The afternoon sun slid across the marble tiles of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, filling the pensive, silence-bound halls with the resigned touch of a fading day. Sunset Shimmer paid it no mind, however, because she was on a mission.
Her objective? Homework.
The deadline? Tomorrow morning.
Her outlook? Positive.
Sunset grinned to herself as she dutifully scribbled in the blank sections on her worksheet, orange crayon held firmly in her magic aura. Vocabulary word after vocabulary word was pulled from her memory and bound to the sheet, almost as though she was creating a spell. It certainly felt as easy as casting a spell. She'd only been working on the sheet for ten minutes, and she was already almost done.
Sunset suspected her cutie mark might be homework-related, should it ever appear on her flank. She was so fast at it; nopony else in her magic kindergarten class even came close to finishing at the rate she did.
Soon enough, the final question stared up at Sunset, awaiting her answer.
The Moon is to the Daybreak as the Sun is to the _____.
The filly barely held back a giggle as she scribbled in Sunset. It was too easy, really.
With the assignment complete, Sunset leaned back in her chair and clumsily rolled up the scroll. Around her, the empty classroom seemed to watch approvingly, the textbooks on the bookshelf-lined wall cheering her on as she tried once, twice, thrice to light a candle. Then it was just a matter of waiting for the wax to melt, levitating it over her scroll so that it dripped into a blob of orange-gold on the ivory parchment, and smacking her "S.S." stamp smack-dab in the middle.
The finished product was nothing short of a masterpiece. Nopony else in the class turned in their homework like this, Sunset knew.
Not that anypony does their homework like I do.
It was true! All the other colts and fillies in Ms. Spell Check's magic kindergarten class didn't just treat homework as a chore—they hated it!
Alright, class! Ms. Spell Check would say, adjusting her bright red glasses. I want you each to write one hundred words about a spell you'd like to learn over the weekend, due Monday.
Oh, how they moaned and groaned, grumbled and mumbled! And in the middle of all the irritation sat Sunset, beaming bright as you please.
Really, was it any wonder that she was always the first foal to be "Shining Student Star of the Month," when nopony else loved magic the way she did? She should be Shining Student Star every month, now that she thought of it...
After blowing out the candle, Sunset grabbed her rolled-up homework and scrambled down from her chair. The desks were almost taller than she was—one of the downsides to being in the older foal's class—but that didn't stop her as she wove through the rows towards the teacher's desk.
She didn't need to hop into Ms. Spell Check's deserted chair in order to put her worksheet on the desk, but it was half the fun of doing her homework in the classroom, so Sunset pulled herself into the wheeled chair anyway.
From her vantage point at the front of the room, she could see clear across the sea of desks, all the way to the far reaches of the Time-Out corner. Sunset tossed the homework scroll into the turn-in basket, then reached her hooves out and, grasping the desk for leverage, gave the chair a good, hard spin.
The classroom blurred as it wheeled about her—fast at first, then slower as the world gradually returned to its rightful place. It was a wonder that Ms. Spell Check never did this. It could only be funnier if a bunch of foals suddenly were flying around, their desks seeming to orbit her chair like the room.
Sunset giggled as the chair came to a halt. It was almost like she was the center of the world; everything spun around her after all.
She was about to reach a hoof out and send the room back into orbit when something in the hallway caught her eye. Bright silver it shone—there for only a second, before the deep burgundy of the carpet overtook the doorway once more.
Her curiosity piqued, Sunset slid from the chair and trotted to the open door, poking her head out just in time to see a streak of navy swirl around the corner.
Sunset's ears folded flush against her head, her eyes squinting accordingly.
She had a new mission.
If Hide-and-Seek was a game for foals, Chasing the Mysterious Navy Cloak was an activity for only the most dedicated of fillies. The Halls of Princess Celestia's School were tight and winding at times, and open and airy at others, but the cloak-wearing stranger seemed to prefer only the most roundabout, hidden passageways. Sunset followed it past the older-student laboratories, past the library, and the kitchens, and the massive lecture hall reserved for Elementary Magic Principles and entrance exams, and even onto a thin, narrow bridge that spanned the gap between the Tower of Knowledge and some other tower that looked like it belonged to Canterlot Castle.
Some other foals might have been scared, running across a thin strip of stone that reached from tower to balcony like a thin strand of hair caught in the breeze. Fear would be understandable—only a few inches of gold-laced marble separated one's hooves from the unforgiving streets of Canterlot lurking hundreds of meters below.
But for Sunset Shimmer, straight-A student and possible magic prodigy? The trip was easy. She bounded across the space in seconds, following that cloak like thunder chasing a streak of lightning.
She had a mission, after all.
Determined as she was, her legs were still small, and she was beginning to wonder how much longer she'd be chasing the cloak when she rounded a final corner and nearly barged right into the grand double doors of the Royal Throne Room.
Bright gold in color, with ruby and topaz inlays lining the frame, the closed doors stood in her way. To either side, the guards frowned down at her.
Sunset screeched to a halt, her hooves slipping a bit against the polished floors.
The guard on the left spoke first. Raising an eyebrow, he peered down at her. "Are you lost, little filly?"
Her balance regained, Sunset drew herself up to her full height (which, admittedly, was only up to about the guard's knee). "No," she replied, tossing her mane back with an air of self-assuredness. Pointing her hoof at the doors, she declared. "I was following the cloaked stranger."
The guards exchanged a glance. On the right, the stallion piped up, "Uh huh. Sure you were. And the Breezie Queen was with the stranger, right?"
Sunset stared at him, "Breezie Queen? You saw a Breezie Queen?"
The first guard chuckled. "Yeah, kid. I think I saw her go that way." He pointed down the corridor. "Why don't you go look for her there?"
"I didn't see a Breezie Queen. I saw a cloak," the filly insisted. "A dark blue pony cloak."
"And it came this way?"
"Through those doors!" Sunset pointed again.
The guards were looking at her with that grown-up stare she hated. She could practically see them calling her a silly little filly in their heads.
Well, she was sure the cloak had gone this way. And at this rate, it would be gone by the time the dumb guards let her through. Desperate times called for desperate measures, Sunset knew, and this certainly qualified as a desperate time.
"Let me through!" she shouted, stomping an angry hoof. She didn't bother using her inside voice, and the shout rang through the corridor, echoing up to the vaulted ceiling to bounce amongst the rafters. Her horn sparked in accompaniment, and a few bright blue sparkles landed on an exposed patch of the guard's hide.
The guard cursed, breaking his bearing to swipe at the magic-spark stuck to his coat. Sunset took advantage of the distraction, levitating the important-looking ring of keys from his belt and jamming a jeweled-encrusted one into the lock.
The door was already unlocked, apparently, so she threw her body and a wall of magic at it, cracking it open just enough to allow her to tumble into the throne room before the other guard could protest.
The first thing Sunset thought was that the throne room was large.
The ceiling towered over her, as far and unreachable as the sky itself. The floor—polished to a near-perfect shine—had no color of its own; it reflected the shadowed ceiling and the stained-glass windows lining the walls. As Sunset tiphoofed down the carpeted aisle, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking between two large pools of nothing—the floor to either side of the runner looked as bottomless and unfathomable as the wells of eternity from which all magic came.
The carpeted runner was nice, though. Fluffy and deep maroon in color, it was pleasantly soft and bouncy beneath her hooves. In no time at all, she found herself looking at a set of steps.
Sunset looked up.
Her mind—quick as it was—could only register a few observations before completely shutting down:
1) The Royal Throne was the prettiest piece of furniture she had ever seen
2) The Princess Celestia was the prettiest pony she had ever seen
3) The navy cloak was nowhere in sight—her Highness wore only an amethyst-studded neckplate
3) The Princess was staring at her with a politely confused expression
4) The Princess was talking and her voice sounded like a chorus of tinkling bells
"Whatever are you doing here, my little filly?"
"I... I..."
"Hmm?"
"A cloak," Sunset managed to say, still staring wide-eyed at the alicorn upon the throne.
Said alicorn chuckled, the sound lovely enough to bring the stars out to play in the young night sky. "A cloak? Have you not your own?"
Sunset shook her head, some of the stunned daze fading away. "No, Highness. I saw a cloak come this way."
At Princess Celestia's frown, she helpfully added, "It was dark blue. With a bit of silver."
The only silvery thing in the throne room was the Princess' laugh, which rang through the air as clear and cheerful as the wind chimes near the playground.
"I haven't had any visitors since lunch, dear filly," Celestia said, rising from her seat. "I've been expecting a farmer for the past hour or so, but he's yet to show."
First the guards, now the Princess? What was going on?
Sunset faltered, her confidence cracked. "But... I saw the cloak come this way. I saw it."
"Perhaps it is a mystery, then!" The Princess winked conspiratorially as she descended the few steps down to where Sunset stood. "This castle is haunted, you know."
"Really?" Sunset asked, the cloak momentarily forgotten.
"It is!" Celestia leaned closer, her undulating mane sweeping behind Sunset. "Sometimes, in the late afternoons, you can see tiny fillies who should be playing with their friends wandering the halls and sneaking into the throne room!"
Sunset gasped, then frowned, her tiny brows crashing together. "Wait a minute..."
Princess Celestia gave her a playful nudge. "Go on, you silly filly. Go home and enjoy the weekend! And tell my guards to come in; I'd like to have a word with them about security."
And so, with a twinkle in her eye and amusement in her voice, Princess Celestia ushered Sunset Shimmer out of the Royal Throne Room, and the mysterious cloak was lost to Sunset.
As the filly trodded back home, she thought that the Princess looked at her with hopeful eyes. But maybe she was just imagining it.
Sunset shoved the textbook away, scowling. Dumb Clover. The spell doesn't even make sense. How can anypony cast it?
The filly suppressed a groan. How was she supposed to get into the School's Advanced Magic Program without a Mage-level spell? Clover's simpler spells were so easy—why did the others have to be so difficult?
With a sigh, she flopped backwards, slumping up against the fountain that dominated the courtyard between the School for Gifted Unicorns and the Royal Palace. Sunset watched idly as the trees painted afternoon shadows upon the castle walls—dappled spots that danced with every passing breeze.
The sound of hoofsteps drew her attention. Looking up from the library's dog-eared copy of Clover's Magic and Mediations, Sunset was met with the sight of a greyed, hunched-over stallion observing her with weary eyes.
His long white beard was tied off at several intervals, with braids and bells interwoven within the shimmering strands, but it was his eyes that truly held Sunset's attention. Clear blue—so light as to almost be transparent—they seemed to glisten with the telltale sparkle of uncast magic.
"Hello," Sunset breathed.
The stallion paused, turning the full force of his glittering, penetrating gaze upon the young filly's head. "Hello, yourself."
Around his body wrapped a magnificent cloak of silver and deep, deep blue.
Sunset's eyes widened. "I saw you."
"Hmm?" He peered closer at the book in her lap. "Is that Clover's work I see?"
Sunset reached for his cloak, then paused, reluctant to touch without permission. After all, he had basically disappeared the last time she saw him. She turned her eyes to meet his.
"Who are you? I saw your cloak before."
He cocked his head, considering her question. At last, he answered, "A messenger."
Now this was interesting. Tossing the book to the side, Sunset leaned forward.
"A messenger? From who?"
The stallion broke eye contact, then, turning instead to the first star peeking out from the twilit sky stretching above the castle walls.
"I'd like to know that, myself," he murmured, almost sadly.
Sunset frowned impatiently. "Well, what's the message, then?"
Her question earned her a humorless chuckle. "Eager little filly, I see. Clover had a voracious appetite for knowledge, too."
It was all Sunset could do to keep from groaning. Would it kill him to get on with it, already? She had a spell to learn, after all!
"But what's the message?" she demanded. He turned those clear-cut eyes back to her, then, brows furrowed together, and she hastily added, "I'd like to hear it please, mister horse sir."
Her manners seemed to put him at ease. Leaning in, his breath washed over her ear, hot as dragonfire as he whispered,
"A Night long past
Will dawn once more
And endless dark
Seek to restore.
But Day will come,
And Night will stay,
If Magic's heart
Goes not astray"
Sunset blinked at him. A second passed, then two, then five, and then she blurted,
"Endless dark? And Magic's heart? But what do you mean?"
The stallion barked a laugh.
"That's just it, isn't it? We'd all like to know. But between you and me, " he pointed up to the night sky. "I think it means that Equestria is about to face a grave danger."
Danger? Like when Sunset didn't tell her parents she was going to the library and got a hearty scolding from both ponies? She frowned. "From who?"
The stallion turned his face to the rising moon. "From an old foe, and an even older friend."
The filly shook her head, scratching her nose as she did so. Nothing was making sense tonight. First Clover's spells, and now this crazy old stallion—ugh! She was never going to get a straight answer out of anypony.
"Okay, well if you aren't gonna tell me, could you please explain how anypony's supposed to beat the monster? Is it Princess Celestia? I bet she could probably take care of it, and I could maybe help. I'm really far ahead in my studies." She puffed her chest out proudly. "Ms. Spell Check says so."
"Is that so?" he said mildly. "Well, little Miss Clever, if you must have the mystery stripped of everything, the prophecy could mean several things: a reunion, a fight, a chance for redemption... Celestia will take it at face value, though, and that means she will be taking a student."
"A royal student?" Sunset didn't bother restraining her excitement.
"Yes, a royal student," he said offhoofedly. "Personal pupil to her Highness. Equal in status to any courtier, second only to the Princess and the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard in rank. Only the best, only the brightest, most talented young pony will be chosen."
"Do you know how she'll choose the student? Will it be a test?" The filly asked, scooting closer to the stallion.
"How does one choose a student?" He shrugged. "How does one choose a successor? A confidant? A friend? She'll be keeping a close eye over that school of hers, I imagine."
Sunset turned back to the discarded book at her side. On the page before her, Clover's dumb spell looked up at her, daring her to try and cast it. She grit her teeth and pushed her mane out of the way.
Mission: learn that spell
Timeline: until the entrance exam
Outlook: promising
She almost didn't notice the cloaked stallion was leaving until the gate to the courtyard creaked open. When the filly glanced up, he was already halfway out the arch, face shrouded in shadow.
"I was wrong," he called over his shoulder. "You remind me more of Platinum than of Clover."
And then he was gone, the stars on his cloak fading into the wide expanse of the night sky.
Clover's spell glittered on the page just as magically.
By the time Sunset's entrance exam to the Advanced Magic Program rolled around, all memory of the mysterious cloaked stranger had curiously slipped from her mind, trickling right out and leaving nothing but an unsettling oddness about the afternoon in the courtyard in its place.
Sunset could remember the book, and a visitor, but none of the guards reported seeing anypony, and Princess Celestia's schedule book was completely clear that evening, when Sunset snuck into the Grand Antechamber to peek at it. In the end, she figured she'd simply fallen asleep and dreamed about the Princess wanting to take a Royal Pupil. That would certainly explain the dream-like quality of the information, after all.
That doesn't matter now, though, Sunset thought, squaring her shoulders and marching into the examination hall.
"Your name?" droned the stiff-lipped, grey-maned stallion in the center of the judge's panel.
"My name is Sunset Shimmer," the filly whispered, half to herself.
"Speak up!" barked the stern-looking mare on the right.
Sunset lifted her head. Loud and proud, she announced, "My name is Sunset Shimmer!"
The three judges scribbled something on their clipboards. After a minute, the center stallion waved a hoof, and an attendant pushed a wooden cart over to Sunset. In the middle of the cart, nestled into a massive terra cotta pot, rested a large green-and-gold seed.
"You may begin," the mare said abruptly.
Sunset didn't bother trying to cast a sprout spell, or a crack spell, or even the moderately-complicated acceleration charm she'd read about three months ago.
No, she went directly for the spell that had been thwarting her that evening in the courtyard: Clover's famous Listen Jinx.
Sunset took a deep breath and aimed her horn at the seed. It sparked and sputtered, then alit with a familiar teal fire.
Focus... Focus...
The spell took an immense amount of energy—enormous even for a pony who had their cutie mark already. That didn't bother Sunset. She had dreamed of this.
This right here. This right now.
Magic—writhing through the air, pulled into the fluting of her horn as she struggled to muster the energy to perform the spell.
Her heartbeat—drumming through her veins, singing a song of triumph. A song of victory.
A verse sprang to her mind as she focused, entirely unbidden but present all the same.
A Night long past
Will dawn once more—
Sunset clenched her teeth together. Almost there...
And endless dark
Seek to restore.
The mass of magic swirling above her head pulsed suddenly, almost throwing off her concentration and wrecking the whole thing. With a tiny grunt, Sunset willed the power to hold.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the judges watching intently. Good, she thought. They'd better be watching.
Sunset reached deep, down into the depths of her very being. The accompanying surge of magic all but overwhelmed her vision, turning the world around her into a sea of violently-swirling turquoise. She willed the magic towards the awaiting seed.
Listen, the spell sang.
Grow, Sunset willed.
Of course, the seed sighed.
But Day will come,
And Night will stay,
If Magic's heart
Goes not astray.
When Sunset opened her eyes, a massive flower towered above her, sky-blue petals waving gently in the air. It seemed to watch her—perhaps the spell hadn't quite faded yet, and it was still listening.
"My name is Sunset Shimmer," the filly whispered to the plant, as the adults began to frantically scribble upon their clipboards. "And I'll be Princess Celestia's next student."
The flower only bobbed in agreement.
Being the personal student of Princess Celestia had its perks.
For one, Sunset was allowed into all the forbidden sections of the library, where the really cool spells were.
Secondly, she got to attend special afternoon luncheons with Her Highness—just the two of them, seated on the veranda overlooking the lush beauty of the royal gardens. The tea always smelled nice (even if it didn't taste that great until Sunset had dumped half the sugar bowl into it) and the pastries were delicious. And Princess Celestia would listen as Sunset talked and talked about school, her homework—everything.
But thirdly, and perhaps most excitingly, was the fact that Sunset now had her very own personal chambers in the Royal Palace—right down the hall from Princess Celestia's! Even Prince Blueblood lived in a different corridor.
The Princess had promised that Sunset could have an entire tower all to herself—but that was for when she was all grown up. Right now, she still needed to be close to her teacher, but that didn't mean she couldn't have her privacy. Nopony could come into Sunset's room without her permission—not even her parents, when they visited!
So it came as a quite the surprise when Sunset barged into her bedroom one afternoon, lugging her books behind her, and found an elderly stallion in a star-encrusted cloak standing at her window, eyes focused on the distant horizon.
She coughed. "Um... Are you lost?"
The stallion turned around slowly. He had a long, braided beard, and his eyes were a piercing blue in color, as bright as sapphires beneath his bushy white brows.
The eyes swept up and down Sunset, lingering for a moment on the blank patch of hide where her cutie mark should be. When he spoke, his voice rumbled from deep within his chest.
"Sunset Shimmer."
"That's me," she said, shifting uneasily. "What about you? Are you lost?"
The stallion shook his head. "I am exactly where I am supposed to be, young mare."
Sunset looked around. "In my bedroom?"
Maybe she should call for a guard. There would be one right down the hallway, after all.
As if he could tell what she was thinking, the stallion chuckled and shook his head. "I mean you no harm. In fact, I come bearing gifts."
He pointed to her massive four-poster bed. In the very center, wrapped in beautiful pink-and-gold paper, lay a small square box.
Sunset eyed it suspiciously. "Did Princess Celestia say it was okay?"
"She didn't need to," he said dismissively. "You're her student, aren't you? Not her pet?"
Sunset nodded.
"Very well, then. Celestia was once my student, you know," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.
"What?
He nodded. "But enough about me. Go on, open your present."
Obligingly, Sunset trotted across the floor and pulled herself onto the bed. The ripping of paper filled the room, but eventually a solid mahogany box lay before her.
The stallion sat back on his hooves, watching her intently.
Carefully, hesitantly, Sunset lifted the lid.
Slowly, steadily, the room was filled with wavering tendrils of gold-and-crimson light, as though the sun were shining through a rippling pool of liquid sunsets.
"Do you know what they say about you?" the stallion asked, a hard glimmer in his eyes. "What they say about Princess Celestia's prized pupil?"
Sunset shook her head to either side, wide-eyed gaze locked on the item in the box.
The stallion rose to his feet with catlike elegance. "They say she's gifted. She’s brilliant. She casts spells that grown mares find confusing. She's the brightest student of her age, and she doesn't even have a cutie mark yet."
In the box, upon a silken silver pillow, lay a glowing tiara made of sunfire.
"But above all, they say she's destined for greatness."
It's true, whispered something inside Sunset. It has to be true.
She could only watch, awestruck, as the stallion lifted the tiara and nestled its flickering form into her sun-streaked tresses.
"The Princess of Prophecy."
There it was, that word. Princess.
Sunset looked up at him, then, opening her mouth to ask him if she would truly be a princess, but her voice died in her throat because his eyes were burning. Bright blue flames leapt from his irises, writhing through the air like hungry vines.
They reached out for her, and then Sunset was lost.
She watched as the stars wheeled and turned, seemingly before her very eyes, finally slowing long enough for her to catch a glimpse a night when the moon glowed like a spotlight in the sky. She saw a shadow, creeping low and silent across the Equestrian countryside. It snuck into Canterlot Castle, sweeping across Princess Celestia's abandoned chambers.
She saw the shadow slide into the eyes and hearts of her fellow ponies, freezing them in place as they screamed in terror. She looked on as it extinguished the stars, one by one.
But then, a spark.
Sunset watched as a unicorn mare stepped up to the shadow, horn alight with a shimmering rainbow of colors, and the shadow faltered. It shied away from her, growing greyer and weaker until at last it vanished altogether, and the mare stood triumphant in the morning light.
The mare didn't stop there, though. The vision swirled and churned, and soon Sunset was watching as the mare fought monster after monster, each foe becoming fuzzier and harder to distinguish. A bear that sparkled like the stars, a massive snake that laughed maniacally, a tall figure with reptilian eyes and gangly limbs bedridden with holes...
Eventually, the visions lost all coherence, and simply became a swirl of emotions: fear, danger, hopelessness, despair, emptiness.
And in the middle of it all, a unicorn-shaped blaze of triumph surveyed the destruction with her horn held aloft and wings flared. Around her boiled a sea of love, respect, and admiration.
Six glittering gems shone bright in a night without stars, five forming a ring around the brightest sixth, and in the center of it all...
A Princess.
When stone turns to friend
And the Nightmare is free
The Princess' student
Will royalty be.
Sunset caught a brief glimpse of a shining castle, a golden crown, and then she was simply staring at the stallion's brilliant blue eyes, mouth agape and heart fluttering.
"Who are you?" she gasped.
"A courier," was the serene reply. "But the real question is: who are you?"
Before Sunset could form a response, before she could demand a proper explanation, before she could even begin to process all that she had seen, the stallion was gone.
On the bed before her lay a package wrapped in gold and crimson paper.
How odd. Sunset shook her head, but she couldn't recall anypony giving it to her. She searched the wrapping for any sign of a tag, but there was nothing to be found; no label betrayed the sender's identity.
It's probably from the Princess, Sunset thought with a thrill of excitement. Without further ado, she ripped the paper off, revealing the gift beneath.
A leather-bound book rested upon the coverlet before her, a quill and ink pot by its side. Flipping through the pages revealed that it was blank—a journal, then.
Sunset grinned as she scooted down from the bed and trotted over to place the journal on her desk. It would be perfect for keeping track of her activities.
As she trotted back to bed—it was kind of funny how late it had suddenly become—Sunset paused before her mirror. Her flank stared back at her, blank as ever, but her eyes were fixed on her slightly-ruffled mane, right behind her horn.
Almost tentatively, Sunset wondered what a tiara would look like, nestled amongst her fiery hair.
That night, she dreamt of jewels and prophecies.
"I want my cutie mark," Sunset announced to nopony in particular. In the gardens around her, the animals continued about their business. Sunset groaned and flopped to the ground. In her awaiting journal, she scribbled,
Mission: get my cutie mark
Timeline: before bedtime
Outlook: maybe
Ugh! She hadn't really minded not having a cutie mark before—it didn't keep her from becoming Princess Celestia's student, after all—but Sunset kept seeing her classmates from magic kindergarten around the city, and they all had cutie marks.
I'm the Princess' student, she grumbled. I should have had my cutie mark before them.
The journal stared at her unhelpfully, its pages as blank as her flank.
I wonder...
Sunset sat up, chewing on her lip. Maybe, just maybe, she could trick her cutie mark into appearing. Her mark had to be magic-related, right?
She eyed her journal, already charging up her horn. It knew her better than she knew herself, probably. It knew her goals and fears, her dreams and troubles—she told it everything. So maybe...
Clover the Clever's Listen spell was a bit easier to cast the second time, but not much. Sunset's forehead glistened with sweat by the time the magic took hold of the journal.
Listen, the spell said.
I want to see my cutie mark, Sunset stated.
As you wish, the journal replied.
With a blinding flash of light, the spell dissipated.
The page before her was still blank, so Sunset flipped to the next one, hardly daring to breathe. And then the next, and the one after that, and then she slammed the book shut with a thump, because there was no sign of a cutie mark in any of them.
When she removed her hoof from the cover of the journal, a newly-embossed red-and-gold sun stared up at her—a perfect match for the mark on her flank.
"Oh, my," Princess Celestia exclaimed, bending down to examine Sunset's cutie mark. "And you really just asked to see it? Using your entrance exam spell?"
"Yes, Princess!" Sunset responded primly.
Princess Celestia let out a low whistle. "You really are something else, Miss Shimmer. My gifted, gifted student."
Sunset beamed as the words settled upon her heart.
My gifted, gifted student.
Sunset heard those words three more times before she fled Equestria.
|||
Two years after Sunset got her cutie mark, she found a filly sitting in the courtyard outside the School for Gifted Unicorns, hiccuping and sniffing and making a general mess of herself.
"Why are you crying?" Sunset asked curiously, trotting up to the filly. The foal looked up at her with big, watery eyes.
"Princess -hic- Princess Flufferpants is gone and I -hic- can't find her anywhere!" she blubbered, throwing herself onto the ground and bursting into a fresh round of tears.
Sunset watched the exhibition with a bewildered expression. "What's Princess Flufferpants?"
The filly stopped crying long enough to sniff, "My kitty."
"Oh." A moment later, Sunset frowned. "I wonder if..."
She trailed off. Clover's listen spell might work, but it would better if it was just a tiny bit different... Screwing up her face, Sunset charged her horn and hoped for the best.
Tell, said the spell.
Where is the cat? demanded Sunset.
In the gardens, whispered the cobblestones beneath her feet.
"In here!" Sunset exclaimed, bursting through the bushes with the foal hot on her hooves. The two fillies quickly came to a screeching halt. "Oh, sorry Princess Celestia. We didn't mean to disturb you."
"She was helping me find Princess Flufferpants," the filly added hastily.
The Princess smiled at them from her spot on the bench. Beside her regal form, the cat in question stretched out lazily.
After the filly had scooped up her cat and scurried away, Princess Celestia gestured for Sunset to join her on the bench.
"That was a lovely thing you just did, Sunset. It brings me joy to see you using your talents as such."
Sunset raised her chin proudly. "I didn't even use a finding charm, either! I just changed Clover's listen spell so it told me where the cat was!"
Princess Celestia laughed. The sound of it tinkled through the air like music, feeding Sunset's smile until she beamed brightly.
"Of course you did. Why use a simple charm, when you can reshuffle a more complicated one to do the same thing?" She shook her head. "Only you, Sunset. My gifted, gifted student."
Years passed
||
"What are you doing?" Sunset asked, wrinkling her nose at the elderly gardener as he patted down the soil with his bare hooves.
He squinted up at her. "Eh?"
"I said what are you doing?"
"Oh! That's easy." He turned back to the ground and gave it a decisive pat. "I'm a-pattin the ground to make sure the flowers know they're good to come out. Planted 'em last fall, and now we're good n'done with winter, so I gotta lure em out. Old trick my granmare taught me."
Sunset looked around the gardens. The other flowerbeds held tall, leafy stalks and heavily-budded bushes, the gardeners around them brandishing watering cans and bags of fertilizer.
Over the next two weeks, Sunset watched as the stallion faithfully came out and patted the dirt each morning. The other gardeners paid him no mind, but continued to tend to their own charges. Soon, the royal gardens were in full bloom—all except for the five measly stalks poking up from the elderly gardner's plot of soil.
It wasn't the first time Sunset had told a plant to grow.
It was the first time she had been met with a lukewarm response, though. She watched from the veranda with Princess Celestia as the stallion leaned in suspiciously, sniffing at the glorious bunch of flowers blooming up at him.
"It seems your friend doesn't quite know what to make of your gift," the Princess observed, taking a sip of tea.
Sunset finished chewing her crumpet and swallowed. "He's probably shocked at how beautiful the flowers turned out. I dunno. He could be amazed that I saved him all that patting."
"Do you think perhaps the patting might have been something he enjoyed about gardening?" Princess Celestia's tone was light and airy as ever, but there was a warmth missing from it, and her eyes were untouched by the smile on her lips.
Sunset looked from her to the stallion a ways away, and then back to her mentor. The message was clear enough: Princess Celestia wasn't impressed.
"But I cast the spell perfectly! And now he has the prettiest flowers in the entire garden! I even told the plant to come up as soon as it feels the first pat, so he'll save even more time next winter!"
Princess Celestia merely shook her head, smiling sadly. "My gifted, gifted student. You still have so much to learn."
Years passed.
"Do you know why I called you here, Sunset?" Princess Celestia asked wearily from behind her desk.
Sunset stood stiffly before her like a mare on trial.
"Because I cast a restricted spell without the teacher's permission," she stated dully, eyes fixed straight ahead.
"And?"
"And?" Sunset echoed, breaking her bearing to frown at the Princess. "And I didn't ask permission?"
"You ignored your classmate when she protested, Sunset," Princess Celestia said pointedly. "Did she not try to stop you?"
"Maybe," Sunset grumbled in an undertone to the floor.
"What was that, Sunset?"
"Yes, Princess Celestia," Sunset corrected, heaving a sigh.
The Princess accepted her admission with a graceful nod. "And did you not think that your classmate's concerns were worth listening to? Especially when they aligned with your teacher's instructions? Madam Straight Edge tells me you ignored yesterday's assignment in favor of playing with volatile warspells."
Sunset's face reddened to match her mane. "I figured it out, though! I fixed the flaw in the Stormfire incantation! If I had listened to Sugar Pill, we'd still be fooling around with color-changing charms. It's not my fault I wanted to do something useful."
Celestia sighed. It was becoming a familiar sound. "There’s no need for this obsession with productivity. You're young, my dear student.. Life doesn't have to be a race to master the next spell. Spend some time with your classmates, visit your parents—take a road trip, even; I'll write you a pass from school. Please, Sunset. Leave some space for youth in your life."
"We're running out of time and I can't afford to goof off" Sunset snapped, before she could stop herself.
Princess Celestia became very, very still. "What?"
Sunset gulped. "I mean, we just, it's my duty to... I..." She grit her teeth.
The Princess stared at her, silently waiting for her to continue.
"I dream of war," she admitted at last.
Her mentor’s voice sounded oddly strained. "Go on."
"I dream of fire, and of shadows, and of angry wings buzzing in the night—the specifics change, but in all of them, Equestria is in danger and I'm the only pony with enough magic to save it." She looked up at Princess Celestia with fierce determination written on her face. "I have to be ready to protect Equestria," she whispered. "It's going to be my duty."
"Sunset," Princess Celestia began, closing her eyes. "You cannot hope to save the country if you care not for its citizens."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sunset spat. "You just admitted it—Equestria's going to be in danger! I'm not about to waste my time with coloring charms, when it's a Princess' duty to—"
"Sunset Shimmer," the Princess snapped, rising to her hooves. "I appreciate your concern, but you do not have to remind me my own duties. I am quite aware of what it means to be a Princess."
Sunset bit her tongue and bowed her head obediently. To the floor, she muttered, "Yes, Princess Celestia. Sorry. I just..."
The alicorn stepped around her desk, then, bending down to lift Sunset's chin with a hoof. "What is it, Sunset?"
Sunset pulled away, unable to maintain eye contact. "Sometimes I dream that I have wings. I dream that I'm meant to be more than just your pupil."
"Oh, my gifted, gifted student," the Princess sighed, sorrow evident in her voice. "How high you long to fly."
Sunset didn't know why the Princess said that like it was a bad thing.
Princess Celestia,
Sorry it's taken me so long to report on this—I still think I should be allowed to withdraw from the School for Gifted Unicorns to focus on magic full-time (I could learn so much, really!) but I promise I haven't been ignoring your special assignment.
Here's what I've learned from my increased effort to interact with others (I would like to politely repeat that this task was unnecessary and a waste of time that I could have spent perfecting my magic missle):
Parents:
-always happy to see me. "You're doing so well!" They cry. "We're so proud of the young mare you've become!"
-they know me better than anypony (except maybe you), and are always supportive of my goals. I know they want me to succeed.
Teachers:
-seem to like that they can rely on me to produce good work. "Exceptional as always, Miss Shimmer," is the common response.
-let me do my own thing in class, I guess because they know my spellcasting is on such a different level.
Friends Classmates:
-"Yeah, good job," they mumble. They're polite, but I can't tell if they're scared of me or just jealous
-I'm sure they would invite me to hang out if I showed interest in it. They recognize a busy mare when they see one
Princess (you):
-Kind of distant lately, I guess because you're giving me some space to become my own pony
-don't ask about my dreams anymore (I still have flying dreams, by the way)
A rustling from the doorway drew Sunset's attention away from her journal. She looked up to see an elderly stallion leaning against her bedroom door, his dark blue cloak hanging off of his bony frame in sheets. Sunset opened her mouth to demand what he was doing here, why he was disturbing her when she was so obviously busy, but their eyes met and she paused.
His eyes were dark, the iris and pupil blending together to the point where he had no eye color, only twin pools of shadow that looked at her with an unfathomable expression. Sunset fidgeted.
In the end, only one question seemed to matter.
"Who are you?" she asked, hesitantly.
He bowed his head. "My name is Starswirl," he replied, and in that moment the memories came rushing back, one after another.
Sunset remembered the courtyard, and the prophecy, and the tiara—words and promises bubbled up from within her mind, filling in the gaps that her dreams had floundered in for so long.
I was supposed to be a Princess.
The thought must have shown on her face, because the stallion closed his eyes.
"I was wrong," he said, and his voice sounded as though the words weighed a million pounds. "I read the prophecy wrong."
Sunset stared at him, unblinking.
At last, she asked, "What do you mean?"
"I read it wrong," he wheezed. "I thought it was you."
Sunset barely noticed as her journal dropped to the floor. “What’s ‘it’? What did you mean you thought it was me?”
Starswirl shook his head mournfully. "I could have sworn it was you. I could have sworn it! The stars said—"
"What did they say?" Sunset breathed, sliding down from the mattress. Surely this was a mistake. Surely he was simply confused.
"They said there would be a filly, born with magical powers the likes of which we'd never seen. She would be the heart of magic, the Princess of Prophecy.” He waved a hoof helplessly. “The time was right. We thought it was you. We could have sworn it was you."
She was destined for greatness. Of course it was her.
"But it wasn't you, Sunset Shimmer."
Sunset stepped towards him. "No."
"I'm afraid so. I was confident. I was careless. And I was wrong."
Sunset was running towards the door. "No!"
"You aren't meant to be Princess, Sunset," he sighed. "There's another—"
She didn't hear him, not over the anguished, wordless scream that burst from her mouth. Sunset charged past the wizard, running out into the hallway without sparing him a second glance.
Objective: Get out.
Deadline: Go go go
Outlook: Just go just go
The stars twinkled at Sunset when she burst onto the roof of the Northernmost Tower. Cold and distant, they watched dispassionately as she aimed her horn at them.
Furiously blinking back tears, Sunset charged her horn one last time.
Tell, said the spell.
Who is the filly of prophecy? Who will be Princess? Sunset demanded.
When the stars spoke, the force of their voices sent Sunset reeling. Quite suddenly, she felt silly for disturbing them.
It is not you, they thundered. It was never you, Sunset Shimmer.
It was never you.
It rang in her ears as she staggered down the stairs. Sunset supposed she ought to feel something, but she barely registered her own hoofsteps as she passed through the halls of Princess Celestia's castle.
Princess.
It was never you.
A pair of guards galloped past Sunset, shouting urgently. They didn't seem to notice her. She stared after them, dazed, then noticed that her horn was sparking and glowing. Such a pretty, regal blue it was.
It was never you.
The air around her turned cold. Damp. Musky.
The chill cleared some of the haze from her mind, just enough for Sunset to notice that she stood in a darkened stone corridor. The walls to either side of her—devoid of any ornamentation—were lined with shelf after shelf of treasure.
Silver necklaces, golden goblets, a platinum crown that could only have belonged to the Princess herself—a fortune of treasure caught the glow of her horn and reflected it back to her in a dizzying cascade of blue rays.
Sunset didn't notice she had reached for the crown until it pressed down gently upon her brow. It felt good. It felt right.
It was never you.
At the end of the hallway stood a mirror. Sunset moved towards it, eager to see how she looked with the crown.
She looked like a Princess.
The mare that stared back at Sunset was both unsettlingly familiar and breathtakingly exotic. Her golden coat glittered like stardust, her long legs rising elegantly from their steel-grey horseshoes. Her mane—crimson and yellow and every shade of orange in between—wound through the air sharply, undulating above a pair of powerful-looking wings.
Sunset stared at herself. This was it. This was who she was.
It was never you, Sunset Shimmer.
Sunset's eyes froze, transfixed by the golden tiara with the star-cut gemstone upon her head.
"It was always me," she whispered to her alicorn counterpart. The princess seemed to nod.
Sunset stepped into the mirror.
In Princess Celestia's study, in a drawer with all of Sunset's fillyhood homework, remained one assignment that the Princess would look at many times in the months following Sunset's disappearance.
It was a simple task, really. Just an exercise in analogies.
The Moon is to the Daybreak as the Sun is to the _____.
Sunset, the filly had scribbled, in large, shaky penmanship.
Princess Celestia would spend many bleary-eyed evenings wondering if it was a sign that Sunset's teacher had marked her student’s answer wrong.
The Moon is to the Daybreak as the Sun is to the Twilight.
