Ponies and faculty scattered.

University students recognized Sunset Shimmer and trotted the other direction. The imperious pony stomped in as if she owned the place. She had terrorized both Celestia's School and the adjunct Canterlot University because she felt that being Celestia's first protégé (and smarter than you) meant she was Celestia's daughter and thus a princess in her own right. She commanded respect, or fear— if that was what it took—as we entered the building.

Prince Blueblood, who had his own life in Canterlot outside the castle as a peerage power broker, wasn't recognized. He gently pushed ponies with Levitate, clearing the travertine entrance hall as my entourage clattered and rolled on through. Once on the basement level, we entered a restricted zone. Firefall shouted she was a royal guard; ponies jumped.

It wasn't the Highly Restricted Zone, however.

Two burly Clydesdale ponies in gold-appointed brass armor guarded that, and stood in challenge. Each chomped a mouth hilt, drawing a scythe-shaped sword with a metal swish; they leveled them at the noisy Firefall who'd taken the lead.

"This is the Crown Princess of Equestria!" she roared, pointing back at me.

I waved from my wheelchair and grinned sweetly. The pink pony mare on the left gulped. Her Appaloosa companion swished his brown tail and continued to glare.

"Stand down and stand aside," Firefall added.

"Do you have a pass?" asked the mare, her lips moving around the hilt.

"Does a Crown Princess need—?"

"Yes," growled her companion, almost losing his grip saying so. Only his hold on the weapon prevented him from spitting. Bearing weapons couldn't be normal protocol, could it? They stood firm, ears forward.

I cleared my throat. Eyes and ears focused on me. "Think about it, quickly. We are coming through whether you let us or not."

They nodded, unfazed. I looked at the door; it was brass filigreed with spiral motifs inlaid in black antiqued silver. It showed no visible lock; no keys hung from the guards' armor. Latched from within?

I got out of the chair, the blue blanket plopping to the floor. For the sake of those behind the doors, I bellowed (something I'd gotten quite good at since being crowned a princess), "This is Ms. Glimmer. For any pony who didn't get the memo, that's Starlight Glimmer Regina Aurora Midnight, the Crown Princess of Equestria, the Princess of Marks, the Earl of Grin Having, and the Captain of the Third Army of Equestria. Open this door and back away. I am coming through on the count of ten..."

I counted.

"...zero." I motioned to Broomhill Dare.

A pink aura flattened the guards against the wall to either side of the arched doorway. I'd seen janitorial push brooms as we marched through a classroom area, and so had my former teammate. Brooms flew up the corridor behind us like giant bees to bang across the two guards, pushing them up the wall, shocking both to lose their swords, which clattered to the floor.

Firefall kicked away the swords, pushed me back into my chair, and rolled me to the side of the anteroom. Citron cast Force. A golden beam splashed out with a boom and a hot thud at the center of the door. The metal ticked and groaned as the spot turned dull red, then brightened, smoking as the metal clanked and deformed. He grinned wildly. Whilst the former arsonist was good at the spell, my pyro-pony especially enjoyed seeing structures set ablaze.

I prepared to cast Shield. He looked to Sunset, who nodded. Casting his beam over a shoulder, they backed toward the door.

He mouthed silently, "Three, two, one."

They bucked the door in tandem. On the fourth attempt, the doors burst open. Pretty good, considering he bucked with only one front leg to steady him.

His spell quit.

Of course it did. Unicorn magic judged if it would hurt ponies.

As the doors bounced back, the blue-green apparition of my Shield brightened to bar the door. Citron and Sunset dodged for cover. A good idea, since I immediately tired. Beyond, two pegasi guard flapped, javelins in their wings at ready. Each had a full quiver that jutted over their backs so they could throw rapidly and non-stop.

The light blue stallions made no pronouncements, but looked worried. A pale pink unicorn beyond, behind a normal green wired glass door, ducked out of view, having seen plenty.

"Stand down, stand aside!" I commanded.

The magenta-eyed one with the minty mane said, "Princess Celestia's orders—"

He got no further. Shield was good only for kinetic mass attacks, but the Shield reassured the pegasi for a critical moment, enough for Citron to step into their view and blip a Force spell through. It set the left one's quiver of javelins afire. The tips. Calculated not to hurt the pony toting them so his spell would work; it proved effective.

A javelin stuck in my Shield, quivering, while the pegasus dumped his burning quiver load. He did it so frantically, the other pegasus dodged the pointy flung-away weapons and struck the wall, then slid down. His javelins scattered also.

I dropped the spell, panting. Broomhill Dare dropped the two scythe-bearing guards by shoving upward past the lift limit of the spell, where she might hurt somepony if they fell. They landed with a clangor and grunts as she hefting their curved swords. Also brandishing the brooms her cutie mark magic gave her superior control over, she said, "Act like intelligent ponies. All of you. 'kay?"

An everyday straw broom inside the guard room walloped a window, turning parts of the glass to snow. Ponies whinnied beyond.

The pegasi jumped away as their javelins took flight on their own, the burning ones waving out their own flames, revealing Broomhill Dare's pink aura. One by one, she snapped them, letting them smolder together in a heap.

We proceeded past with no guard displaying further bravery. Firefall approached the guard door, knocking a hoof on the glass, rattling it.

"The Crown Princess of Equestria wishes to pass. Will you let her, without threat or malice?"

"Yes, ma'am," came a squeak.

Nevertheless, a siren wailed. I made a mental note to supervise these guards' training to ensure they'd not make the mistake of waiting to pull the alarm next time.

Firefall flew visual and clearedthe guard station, and beyond. Broomhill Dare and Citron backed her up. Citron melted the red warbling bell, which I supposed he found more fun then toggling the switch. Everypony surrendered their weapons. In the minutes that took, I tore open the wrapper on a soft fudge cookie, redolent of sugar, chocolate, and oil. I'd purchased it from a student vending machine to replenish my energy. The prince and his daughter trotted up; I'd asked them wait until we got in, for their safety.

As I followed through an office space, Broomhill Dare levitated the swords to jam them into the space between a built-in metal filing cabinet and wall to snap them. I shook my head. "At least one of the sensora, a dark one named Facet, is highly dangerous. Who knows what else is jailed here."

I expected a dark and gloomy prison block depicted in the romance novels I read before running away the first time, most likely painted grey-green—or something as smelly and dank as the brig on the Eagle's Swoop. Instead, we found an extension of the palace. Prisons did not often have gold appointments, brass trim, or speckled-grey granite floors. Whilst artfully blackened, the steel in the cell bars looked plenty sturdy.

I wrinkled my nose. It had become sensitive, lately. A mold problem? It wafted on the ventilation draft. From a loo...? Which begged the question as to where the facilities were in the cells—

A couple of guards in royal armor stepped up, eyes respectfully down, weaponless under Firefall's gaze, bowing. "Ms. Glimmer. Princess Celestia specifically barred you by name from HiSec and will be angry if you proceed."

"Too bad." I swallowed the rest of my cookie and washed it down with a carton of oat milk, hoofing over the empty to the closest guard who took it. The crinkling wax paper the way I'd purposely hoofed it over and the guard had to scramble out of my way to get it.

The forward cells—palace guest suites, really, with nice beds, dark wood dressers, cushy chairs, and a bowl (cemented to the table) for fruit—lay empty. The outer walls had frosted glass block "windows" at ceiling level, emitting natural light. Around the corner, the area opened up to a holding area.

I jumped from the chair and dashed to the outside bars of the larger of the two larger cells. They clanked under my hooves. "Thorax!"

Prince Blueblood's sensora impostor pushed his muzzle through the bars, looking me over worriedly. "Starlight! Starlight! You're okay! —well, mostly. I'd have expected you to look better than when I last saw you."

I snorted, then touched my nose to his, sighing as I felt his warmth. I explained briefly my condition, but my eyes were drawn to Ocelli as her ears swiveled where she sat on a bed. Short chains and shackles prevented her from going further. My eyes focused on a giant wrought-iron hex nut epoxied over her horn. Runes glowed hotly orange, though I knew that was only an aural projection of the magic. She had been "ringed," exactly as Running Mead had been by Detective Fellows during the sting operation where I got my cutie mark. It nullified his magic. She grinned wanly at me.

Thorax had been ringed and shackled, too. It so tore at my heart that my eyes burned.

To Ocelli's left, stood a smaller black-sheened sensora. Facet. She glared at me through green metallic goggles that intuition told me were the outside of her eyes. Short chains held her so she could stand or lay in one place. They didn't end in shackles, but instead looped through the bubble cheese holes in her legs. A lighter chain looped around and through her sharp flattened lightning-jag horn. In addition, copper wires threaded through the opening to create a haystack of snipped ends. To defeat her magic, I presumed. She did not look comfortable.

I noted she stood in a looming shadow. The reek... uh oh! In the adjacent holding cell—

Horizontally slit caramel eyes with green prismatic highlights in the pupil regarded me without visible emotion.

Alien. Nightmare.

I jumped back, shocked, heart stuttering. My horse brain and eyes searched for the implied safety of shackles and chains... My heart stuttered, not finding any.

The cell's inmate looked free to wander to the bed, if she so desired. She had a pair of nubbin horns the size of my hooves that looked like they had been carved from walnut. White-dabbled tawny-red fur gave way to snow-white fur on her underbelly and inside legs. Her dainty version of a cattle's black nose pulsed as she breathed. She held her short white flag tail stiffly. Her hooves were cloven and black. Her ears had swiveled to monitor me. Her elongated head looked small in proportion to her body because she was as tall as Celestia but twice her mass, and loomed even at a distance.

Capital-F Fawn, not fawn, not a deer's foal. Member of the Golden Stag.

She resembled the deer I had seen in drawings during my lessons in how to run the Grin Having estate. Often used in boogiemare stories, secretive, silent, never seen, always assumed present in the wild tracts between towns and farms. They destroyed fields when encroached upon by ponies or by weather they blamed on pegasi. All ponies on the outskirts of civilization knew to stay in the open, to be seen and heard when you had no choice but to enter the woods, and to consider finding deer tracks in a destroyed field as having escaped disappearing. Fair or not, ponies rarely reported sightings. Instead, there were unexplained instances of ponies gone missing. There were their woods and badlands and our farms and towns. My disappearance after running away could have been taken as do with deer, except that Celestia had dissuaded Proper Step from "finding" me—so I could be "broken-in" by the world. She had me reported as foalnapped.

As best we understood, the Golden Stag were an alliance of deer, moose, and elk and the Wild. Those included buffalo and gnu, though not zebras or antelope. Ponies believed the Wild might even include timberwolves.

I smelled... I decided the sharp acidic musk was fawn scent. Unbathed came to mind, eau d'outhouse.

I wondered what she thought of ponies.

The nightmare ungulate regarded me without blinking, except by normal reflex. Not aggressive, but with a fawn, who knew? I wasn't going to ask, but I'd bet she thought ponies stunk.

"I was right that Canterlot was in danger. I wonder how the ensign captured her?"

Citron studied the fawn, looking unaware that his horn glowed yellow as he said, "It's a story and a half, and she'll credit her crew. I'll let her tell it, though."

"Fair enough," I breathed.

I shuddered and forced myself to look away, to look at Thorax. "Are you hurt? Are they torturing you?"

"Other than days of questioning at all hours, no. Even as I gave them clues about how to find all the duplicates—"

Facet whispered in a loud hiss. "Traitor. Cull."

Ocelli groused. "You, Facet, are beyond belief. Can't you see what's changed?"

I stuck my nose between the bars, touching Thorax's fur before inhaling a pure cinnamon and unwashed horse scent. I recognized the scent from our time in bed. To be sure, however, I shoved my cutie mark magic into his flank.

"No cutie mark!" I said, "Actually a blank flank."

He looked to his flank, the one on his right that displayed a compass, not the green one that resembled Ocelli's flank. "Is it more than coloration?"

Ocelli asked, "Do all ponies have one? Will I get one?"

Facet scoffed, raising her right foreleg to her forehead and rattling her chains. "Queen Chrysalis, you assigned me morons! Why oh why?"

I called the prison guards over. When they clattered up, I said, "Release Thorax and Ocelli." I pointed a hoof. "They are under my protection and will follow my directions."

"Ma'am. I refuse. The changelings are here for a reason."

"Do I look like I care?" I turned to Prince Blueblood, who studied Thorax with fascination. "Do I care?"

The Prince waved a hoof, not looking away from the sensora. "She doesn't care. Trust me." The rest of my cohort nodded, vigorously. Firefall sighed and rolled her eyes.

I looked them in the eye. "I don't care."

"I refuse," the spokespony said, backing away, likely imagining the mayhem I might perpetrate on them.

I sighed. We only had to search for the keys. I understood the resistance was for show, or to delay for reinforcements I doubted the princess would throw at us.

The cell door groaned. A pink aura made me look. Broomhill Dare pointed her horn and it glowed as hotly as I'd ever seen. The door clanked as it deformed. Too late to suggest to her it might have vault-like bars dropped into the substratum and shoved into the ceiling that wouldn't break, but no never mind. The mare had to be feeling her oats, because she grunted and moved closer, her magic redoubling and brightening.

The door thunked as if striking the cement. The metal edges crinkled, and the whole thing rattled ominously. In bangs and jerks, the door deformed over and over again over the next five minutes, until something broke with a terrifying bang that made everypony neigh, followed by metal shattering, spraying flakes to bounce away with a fizz like spilled sand.

The big mare did a little filly's dance, then stepped back, pulling the entire heavy steel door frame with her, bits of cement and steel filings glittering and skittering after her, caught at the edges of her apparitional field. She set the door leaning against a wall.

Citron stomped his hooves. "Woohoo! Saddle Ranger, you go filly!" A comic book reference, knowing him.

Broomhill Dare bowed, then knelt, veritably lathered with white flecks in her ruff and across her broom-emblazoned flank, in a pool of her own perspiration. She smiled at me wanly and I nodded. Her eyes flickered, she rolled sideways, legs folding out, and closed her eyes. A faint whistling snore ensued.

A distant howl got my attention—everypony's! I shuddered, chills running down my spine as I faced the entrance to the HiSec prison around the corner. I saw the exit to the office area through the cell bars. Notably, the prison guards had startled also.

Firefall took point in the hall beyond the holding area, wings flared in a snap of fluffy feathers, forequarters crouched. "What monster is this?" she breathed, pawing the floor. "Not a wolf, nor a timberwolf. I've harried both in my time."

What was Celestia thinking?

Author's Note

For readers during serialization. Some technical bottlenecks in final proofing may make the final four chapters more spaced out than usual. Please have patience. Thanks!