Rising Flames

A journal entry dated over five years ago, written in cheap pencil. The page is bookmarked with a dog-eared corner.

I flinched as an uncontrolled surge of magic tried to peel itself out of my horn, but it was stopped by the inhibitor ring they’d placed on me. Instead, it rebounded and kept building. The resulting headache was painful, but nothing compared to what I was already feeling.

If only the others had one of these rings. If only they’d tried. If only they’d cared.

As my eyes watered, the icy princess who had thrown me in here stood just outside, accompanied by her guards. Once again, I was deemed fit only for isolation. That hurt, too.

Everything hurt. And no matter what I’d tried, the happiness of my childhood remained elusive. Taking food and riches, buying the services of the most attractive mares, it wasn’t the same. They all left, afraid, or succumbed to the magic I couldn’t stop. I had kept trying anyway, and now look where it got me.

In that moment, I decided. If I couldn’t be happy, then those who so callously cast me out without a second thought couldn’t be happy either.

As the princess leveled her stern gaze through the bars, I met her eyes, brows creased. “There’s something I now know I need to do. Someday, I’ll get out of here.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” she replied imperiously. “I’d advise you to think about what you’ve already done. You’ll be in here for a long, long time, unless you do.”

“I had no control!” I exclaimed, slamming my hoof on the floor. “It just happens!”

“Maybe. But maybe not. Either way, for the safety of the Empire, you’re staying here. Your magic surges are simply too dangerous.”

As the princess and her entourage left, slamming the door shut with an echoing clang, I continued to stew, my anger brewing. With the ring, I couldn’t even go nirik.

She wouldn’t listen to me? Fine. I wouldn’t listen to any of her ponies.

All I had left was to return my pain to my people.

Princess Sunset Shimmer was not having the best day. Which was ironic, considering she was responsible for bringing day about.

Groaning, she slumped over the marble desk in her royal office, staring forlornly at the double-high stacks of critical paperwork to authorize in front of her. She’d already spent most of the morning making sure her new school was up and running properly, only for all these documents to dominate her schedule all the way into the afternoon. With Rarity out on a mission alongside the other Elements, she was left to pick up the slack. It was certainly an important mission, and Sunset wouldn’t shirk her responsibilities, but she could still complain about them, decorum be damned.

“If the old me knew just how much work it was co-ruling an empire, she really would have listened to Princess Celestia more,” Sunset mused, picking her quill back up in her magic and taking the next form off the pile, a resource requisition from the infrastructure ministry.

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t have been the firebrand we needed during our time of crisis, Princess,” said her secretary. Her voice was faint, but still audible through the hardwood door.

“Thanks, Miss Icicle,” she responded, raising her head to glance at the door. She took a deep breath. “And yes,” she continued, doing her best to sound as noble as she didn’t feel, “now that I’m in a position to help far more creatures, I’m going to keep doing everything I can and then some to make sure everyone can live peacefully. Including putting up with all this…” Sunset’s expression twisted slightly, but she admitted, with some effort, “admittedly necessary bureaucracy. I know you and the rest of the staff have even more, but that doesn’t make these forms any less boring. Honestly makes me understand where Rainbow was coming from when she constantly complained about homework.”

“I wouldn’t know about that, Princess,” Icicle replied tactfully.

Sunset smirked at that. “Still, I suppose I appreciate what time I do get to spend with my friends even more, now.”

“Are you implying I’m not a friend of yours?” she asked.

Sunset couldn’t tell if she was joking. “I’d like to think all of my colleagues are my friends, from you to the Empress.”

Icicle did not reply. Perhaps she was smiling.

Shaking her head with a bemused grin of her own, Sunset put her muzzle back to the grindstone, focusing on completing her work properly without compromising speed. Leaving something ponies needed fixed unaddressed for too long was almost as bad as making the wrong call.

She made significant progress tackling the stack before she was interrupted. Miss Icicle’s voice emerged from the other side of the door, poking a hole in the balloon of her concentration. “Princess Sunset, Knight Colibri is here to speak with you regarding an urgent matter.”

In Sunset’s experience, “urgent matter” was code for “something has gone terribly wrong and you need to fix it,” though she would’ve wished to help the kind mare even if they weren’t boss and subordinate.

Sunset dropped her quill and rose, stretching her neck before trotting to the door.

The outer office was made to appear far smaller than it was by many filing cabinets. There, across from Miss Icicle, Colibri was indeed waiting for her, wearing her gleaming Resplendent armor over her green coat, brow furrowed in concern. The pegasus’ pale purple mane was slightly more matted than she usually allowed. Sunset glanced briefly at her white-coated secretary, still seated at her own desk with a neutral expression, before addressing her.

“What’s wrong?” Sunset asked.

Colibri got straight to the point. “Last night, someone broke into the castle prison blocks. All of the top brass, including Guard Captain Paragon, are going to be meeting with the Empress. I thought it best to only have to make the report once.”

Well, that definitely qualified as an “urgent matter.” How hadn’t anypony been alerted immediately? The imperial guard was usually on top of things. “Lead the way,” Sunset ordered, standing tall.

Together, they left the office, and out of the administration wing of the castle entirely. Colibri wore her honed mask of professionalism as they cantered briskly past many other creatures with business in the palace. Whatever grim expression was on Sunset’s own face, it prevented them from being intercepted by others who might otherwise want to speak with her.

Sunset was not surprised that the meeting was taking place in the “war room,” a secure space in the middle of the barracks with a great, heavy table. The maps, charts, and schedules lining the walls contrasted with their cheerful pink crystal construction. The two sentries blocking the entrance had let them pass before shutting the door with a note of finality.

Inside, Empress Cadance, wearing her full set of elegantly curved, golden regalia, was already seated, looking pensive. Her well-being was still improving after she’d stopped her continuous spellcasting. Guard Captain Blade Paragon, a square-faced, sturdy crystal stallion with a red coat, short-cut blue mane, and matching five-o-clock shadow, was at the head of the table, multiple file folders set in front of him. The last pony present was Lady Life Flight, her silver-white mane glittering. She turned her bright yellow muzzle to greet Sunset and Colibri with a nod as they arrived.

Once they took their places across from Cadance and Life Flight, Paragon cleared his throat. “Ma’ams, here’s the situation. Last night, a single individual somehow infiltrated the city, and then the palace itself, totally undetected until they reached the dungeons. Additionally, two of the prisoners are missing.”

“Were the guards all asleep at their posts or something?” Life Flight asked, tail flicking behind her. “I thought they were more professional than that.”

“They weren’t sleeping. It was worse,” Paragon explained, hints of fear and anger in his voice. “I debriefed them this morning. One minute they were simply patrolling the halls, and the next they were coming out of unconsciousness. Nopony saw or heard anything until the infiltrator reached the dungeons. No casualties, though, thank Celestia.”

“Who could pull that off?” Sunset questioned, stroking her chin with a hoof. “Spells to dampen sound are easy enough to cast, but full invisibility? That’s advanced magic. Even I would have trouble maintaining that spell for long.” Her curiosity piqued, she made eye contact with Paragon. “Do we have any info on the identity of the perpetrator? And who did they help escape?”

“I’m getting to that, Princess,” Paragon said. “She actually revealed herself to the prisoners, asking if they wanted to leave. No name, but she apparently called herself a Paladin, and said the Saints sent her.”

“I remember the briefing, but… Paladins? The ones from those rumors of returned ‘Saints’ making waves in the Diarchy?” Colibri asked. Life Flight just snorted dismissively.

Cadance inhaled sharply. “The very same.”

“But that’s impossible, right?” Colibri said tentatively, her wings tensed at her sides.

“It is,” Sunset said, nodding. “But the alternative explanations were troubling enough to get the Elements to head over and investigate themselves.” She trusted their wits and ability to support each other enough that they’d be okay no matter the truth they uncovered.

Captain Paragon cleared his throat, a gravelly sound, before resuming. “So, this Paladin. The descriptions shared with us by the cooperative inmates are incomplete, as it was the middle of the night, but the major details are consistent. She’s supposedly bipedal, but thinner in shape than a diamond dog or minotaur, and probably wearing armor. Our best guess is that she’s an Abysinnian, but they haven’t been known to use magic, so it’s inconclusive.”

Sunset’s forehead creased in thought. That sounded awfully similar to what a human looked like. But the mirror portal had been destroyed long ago, and nopony had yet created a successful replacement. Moreover, they’d turn into ponies if they crossed through. What exactly was going on here?

She brought her attention back to the present as Life Flight spoke up. “I feel like the prison break is the issue we need to focus on, for the moment,” she noted. “Does it especially matter who did the breaking, as opposed to the identities of those two prisoners she helped escape? Who were they?” she asked.

“Ah. Yes, of course,” Colibri said. “Please, continue, Captain Paragon.”

“The Paladin technically assisted only the one. But yes, twocreatures are now missing,” Paragon clarified, indicating the folders in front of himself - personal files, Sunset noticed, though she could not read the names from where she sat.

“Oh no,” whispered Cadance, worry lines forming beside her eyes. “Were the guards…?”

Paragon shook his head, pursing his lips. “No, the guards are all largely unharmed, thank the stars. Minor injuries at most. Whether the Paladin could or couldn’t have killed them we can’t say, but whatever her capabilities, she only knocked them unconscious.”

Sunset’s emotions twisted at the news, her ears slumping. On one hoof, that could simply mean the Paladin - and by extension, the “Saints” who gave them orders - didn’t wish to cause unnecessary harm. The other possibility was that this mysterious group felt so utterly confident in their superiority that it didn’t matter how many creatures stood in their path.

Sunset very much hoped it was the former.

The five ponies at the table were silent for a few seconds more as they processed the news. Cadance, posture rigid and voice strained, finally broke it. “What about the prisoners? Who did the Paladin take?” By the sound of it, even the Empress’ patience was wearing thin; this was not the first time that question had been asked.

In lieu of a verbal response, Paragon nudged one of the folders forwards and flipped it open. Sunset didn’t recognise the mare in the mugshot, but apparently Cadance did, and she eyed the file with pity. “Turquoise,” the Empress murmured sadly, “one of the ponies who tried to kill me.”

Eyes widened all around, Sunset’s included.

“Is she a Knight?” Colibri asked.

“Yes. Jubilant,” Life Flight answered, already skimming over Turquoise’s file. “Certainly problematic, but less so than the Paladin who broke her out. Especially with that spinal injury.”

“I agree,” Sunset said.

This pointed to the sole mystery remaining.

Mentally bracing herself, Sunset sighed. “While this situation as described so far is bad, obviously, you wouldn’t need two alicorns and a Grand Master for a prison break, unless we have reason to believe the Paladin is coming back. That tells me the real problem is the second escapee.”

“And you would be spot on in your assessment, Princess,” Paragon said. He hoofed her the third folder. “This is what we’re dealing with.”

With trepidation, Sunset opened the folder, Colibri peeking over her shoulder. The first thing she noticed was that the prisoner was a kirin. Sunset had never even met a kirin before. She’d heard a few have moved to the Empire recently, but Sunset hadn’t run into any of them yet.

The prisoner’s coat was deep blue, their bushy mane white, and the scales beneath their sweeping horn a vivid violet. The look in their matching violet eyes was both outraged and full of deep sorrow. Also notable was their lack of any horn markings. From what she recalled, those served as the kirin equivalent of Cutie Marks, so for an adult kirin not to have any implied much.

She read through the first page of the file:

Crystal Empire Inmate Record

Prisoner ID: K013

Name: Gravetide

Race: Kirin

Gender: Male

Detention Category: Maximum Security - Magic Nullification Containment

Release Date: N/A – To Be Reviewed

Convictions:

21 confirmed counts theft

16 confirmed counts assault

9 confirmed counts unethical magic use

5 confirmed counts second degree ponyslaughter

Sunset stiffened. A thief and a killer. And that name certainly wasn’t doing him any favors.

But all of the counts were second degree, she realized. That meant none were premeditated.

“It’s Gravetide,” Paragon said, for the others’ benefit. Sunset’s head whipped around when she actually heard Cadance openly utter a curse.

To inspire such a reaction out of the Empress… this was serious. “Who is he?” Sunset asked. All eyes were now on Cadance. “And how did he wind up imprisoned here?”

Cadance turned away, staring off at nothing, carefully considering her words “Gravetide is perhaps one of the single most dangerous creature the Empire has encountered since Sombra. He isn’t malicious, though, merely unstable. Even as an adult, he has uncontrollable magic surges, and his specific talent makes them incredibly dangerous.”

Sunset’s lips pursed. He couldn’t control his magic? That was tragic, especially since that could theoretically be fixed with the right training! Taking a deep breath, she looked to Cadance. “Okay, so he’s extremely hazardous, but not through his own volition. Was he given any psychiatric help or magical tutelage?”

Cadance sighed, perhaps with regret. “Gravetide wouldn’t cooperate with a psychiatrist, instructor, or any other creature for long. He stubbornly refused to connect with them on any notable level. So we just kept him isolated with extreme caution and inhibited his magic.”

Life Flight frowned at Cadance in disapproval. “Still,” she said sourly, “it sounds like he should have been in a mental hospital, then, not a prison.”

Cadance looked ashamed to hear that. “And normally I’d agree with you, Life Flight. But hospital staff couldn’t handle the kind of violence Gravetide is capable of, accidental though it may have been.”

Here, Paragon cut in. “Gravetide’s magic manifests in a most dire fashion: it tears out souls. Sometimes minds too, in the worst cases.”

Life Flight blinked twice. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to ask you to repeat that,” Sunset said. “Because it sounded like you said he could tear out souls.”

With utter seriousness, Paragon dipped his head. “You did not mishear. He conjures metaphysical fire that sears the bonds holding the spirit to the flesh.”

“I saw each of his victims, Sunset,” Cadance elaborated, her tail pressed tightly against her body. “The best cases were those who got completely severed, in mind and soul, turned into vegetables. But in the worst, only the creature’s soul was gone, leaving their memories intact. Those victims become emotionless machines, uncanny mockeries of their old selves. For their loved ones, it’s… agony.”

“Sweet Celestia…” Colibri murmured, covering her mouth with her hooves.

Sunset reeled. Holy shit, this guy was a problem. Turning creatures into vegetables was one thing, but permanently warping someone currently alive into an empty husk of the creature they once were? She shuddered to imagine that. It was a fate she would never wish on even her worst enemies.

Actually, wasn’t this sort of thing exactly what the Windigoes had done to Steadfast? But Sunset shook her head; that wasn’t entirely a fair comparison. The Windigoes had been unrepentant monsters, devouring the souls of any and everyone.

Meanwhile, the report didn’t paint Gravetide as evil. It gave the impression his magic was like a wildfire. Without ill intent, spreading harm was simply the result of its nature. But controlling fire was difficult, so creatures inevitably feared him all the same. No points for guessing that lack of control was probably what got him exiled, which explained his presence in the Empire.

But exile - if that was what had happened - hadn’t been a solution, and they needed a real one.

“This brings us to the matter at hoof: how to stop him from severing anyone else,” said Paragon, crossing his forelegs. “Because the method we used to bring him in before is no longer an option.”

“H-How’d you catch him the first time?” Colibri sounded thoroughly spooked.

Grief washed across Cadance’s features. “It was Princess Flurry Heart. My daughter was always far better at the old techniques for resisting mental magic than I. With her strength, she was able to fend Gravetide’s attacks off long enough to incapacitate him.”

The silence that followed was both awkward and solemn. Even a year later, the death of the Princess, despite having not even met her, was like a knife in Sunset's heart. She found herself unable to meet Cadance’s eyes. No one else could either.

Sunset broke the silence. “That makes sense,” she confirmed, doing her best to bring the conversation back on track. “You need emotional independence. I was able to master that under Celestia pretty quickly.”

“Yes,” said Cadance, softly. “My heart is too naturally open to others for that.” She peered over her shoulder at her flank.

Sunset nodded, and found herself left to her thoughts. They were low on options and pressed for time. She had a pretty good idea of what needed to be done here, but the others weren’t going to like it.

In this moment, the weight of her crown sat heavily upon her head.

“First, let me ask you a few more questions, Captain,” Sunset began. “Did Gravetide escape on his own, taking advantage of the disabled guards, or did the Paladin take him along with Turquoise?”

“It’s likely he escaped on his own, afterwards,” Paragon said, tapping his hoof. “The other prisoners testified they heard galloping from the maximum security cells, but not until at least ten minutes after the Paladin took her. And none of them had a real reason to lie to my guards, especially since they elected to stay.”

“But how?” Colibri asked. “Wasn’t he inhibited?”

“It’s possible he still is inhibited. The Paladin could have unlocked the doors before asking if he wanted to go with them and then left them open afterwards,” Paragon explained.

“Do we have any idea where he is now?” Sunset continued.

Paragon shook his head. “No, Princess. But we know where he’s going.”

“Where?” Life Flight pressed, her wings tense.

In lieu of a reply, Paragon pulled out a threadbare journal, open to a dog-eared page. “He left this in his cell.”

Leaning forwards, Sunset and Life Flight both leaned forward to read it.

Sunset muttered to herself as she read. “If I couldn’t be happy, then those who so callously cast me out without a second thought couldn’t be happy either… All I had left was to return my pain to my people.”

When she finished, Sunset faced the others. “So Gravetide is out to get revenge on those he sees as most responsible for his situation: the kirin from where he grew up. To get there, he has to go by ship. Did you—”

“We already sent word to lock down the ports,” Captain Paragon explained. “The merchants will be annoyed, but they’ll live.”

“Good thinking,” said Life Flight.

Sunset nodded, continuing. “Yes, that’s great. But if Gravetide is smart, he’ll have thought of that too. Which means he has only one other option left: south, into the Diarchy, where we don’t have jurisdiction and they aren’t expecting him. And the Diarchy has enough problems to address already without adding surges of soul-severing magic onto the pile.”

“Sunset, where are you going with this?” Cadance asked, concerned.

At this, Sunset stood. “Simple. I’m going after him.”

“What?” snapped Colibri, also jumping to her hooves.

Cadance stared, her lips tightening into a line. Life Flight pressed a hoof to her brow in exasperation, leaning over the table. Guard Captain Paragon just folded his hooves atop the table and waited for Sunset to speak.

Sunset reached over to Colibri and gently rested a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. “I understand your reservations, Colibri. But teaching somepony else the spell to wall their minds off from magic like Gravetide’s would take too much time; it’s pretty advanced, and they’ll only have one chance. Who knows how many ponies could die in the meantime, even if we only spent a day practicing?”

“Are there really no other unicorns in the Empire who could help?” Paragon asked, scratching his stubble. “None of your students who might already know the spell?”

“Unfortunately, not yet,” Sunset replied. “Rarity is out, and we already established Empress Cadance can’t do it. So unless there’s another master wizard hiding in a hole somewhere around here, it’s got to be me.”

Colibri shut her eyes with resigned acceptance.

“If that’s what you think is best,” said Paragon, without judgment. “Empress?”

Cadance met Sunset’s eyes, testing what resolve she could find in them. After a long moment, the Empress spoke. “She can go. I’ll handle the Empire by myself, for now. I’ve done it before, after all.”

“Thank you, Cadance,” Sunset said.

Life Flight let out an exasperated huff, but didn’t argue. “Of course she’s charging right after him. Couldn’t have expected anything else.” She just smied at the others and shook her head.

“I suppose not,” Cadance mused.

“Still, I agree that going by myself is a bad idea,” Sunset said, pulling away from Colibri. “What I’m not experienced in is tracking down rogue creatures over long distances. I don’t know the first thing about scouting. So we need to find someone with talent there.” Her eyebrows scrunched up in thought. “But at the same time they need to be okay with putting themselves in a huge amount of danger if we actually do find Gravetide.”

“Hmm,” went Cadance, blinking. “Do you have anyone trustworthy in mind, Sunset?”

“As a matter of fact…”

The house was small, simple, and unassuming, fitting in nicely alongside the dozens of other suburban, crystal-grown homes on this street. The lawn was kept well-manicured by the occupant, and the mailbox in front was painted a cheerful orange, perhaps alluding to his past in the Resplendent.

From where they had been playing, small colts and fillies now watched from a respectful distance with their parents. Curious as to why one of their princesses was here, Sunset had said hello and wished them well before politely asked them for privacy.

Navigating a short trail of stepping stones, she knocked on the door before stepping back. “Hello in there; it’s Sunset Shimmer. Can I come in?”

The door swung outwards almost instantly. He must have heard the excited cries of the kids and already been close. Sunset managed a smile as she greeted him. “Long time no see, eh?”

Oak Chips, in the chitin, feigned shock, holding a hoof in front of his mouth. “Why, if it isn’t the Princess! To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you’d seen enough of me, given you allowed me to semi-retire until the new Grand Master could be sworn in, but please, come in, come in,” he insisted, ushering her inside.

“Gladly, but I’m afraid this is business,” said Sunset.

Oak Chips nodded in resignation. Once he’d shut the door behind them, creating a modicum of privacy in his living room, the changeling sighed. Meeting Sunset’s eyes, he studied her expression in silence. Clearly not liking what he found, he frowned. “You know I’m retired, right? I don’t care how serious this is; I’m a brittle old bug.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Sunset said. “A razor with a bit of rust is still sharper than a butter knife.”

He circled around to lean against the back of a wicker chair. “But I’m still rusty. Why not ask my replacement? She’s more than capable. I’ve earned my rest after a lifetime of hard work.”

Sunset put on her Princess Face. “This mission requires special skills, Oak, and you have them.”

“So? You have other changeling Knights, and Knights with more energy than myself. Unless you need someone with the guts to argue with you, you have better options,” he insisted.

“Probably,” Sunset admitted. “But given the extreme danger involved, I thought I’d come to you first. You… always said it would be better if the young didn’t need to put their lives on the line first,” she added, melancholy.

She didn’t have to spell it out for her old Grand Master; a slump in posture made it clear he understood. She knew Oak still bore regrets over what had happened to his nephew. If given the chance to spare someone else with a long future ahead of them that fate, she knew he’d take it.

“Low blow, princess.” He shapeshifted a pair of eyebrows onto himself just so he could crease them for effect.

The display lightened her mood a little, but Sunset nonetheless could not afford to be idle. “I can’t command you anymore, so you’re free to decline if you wish, but at least let me tell you what we’re dealing with and the sort of assistance I’m looking for. At that point I have a feeling you’ll accept.”

At this, Oak Chips sighed, waving a hoof. “Fine, go ahead.”

So, she told him, abridging greatly but omitting nothing.

When she’d finished, Oak Chips paused, stood fully, and turned away. “I’ll pack light,” he declared.

And the hunt was on.