Phil's wings strained against the iron shackles that bound him, his red fur streaked with grime and blood. The guards shoved him roughly through the door of a bleak, empty room, pressing with their inhuman paws.
Maybe he could have resisted such intense strength, but that would have only prompted greater violence. He could probably take on two guards, but not a whole army of soldiers.
The warden's office was all gray stone and plain walls, marked with a few minor awards, trinkets, and trophies.
"Bow before the warden, Captain Tempest Shadow." The voice was barely audible, a distorted grumble from behind the mask. When he didn't react, the masked guards forced him to his knees before the tall, powerful unicorn. Even up close, there was definitely something wrong with her horn. Why was the tip so different from the rest? It was made of reddish crystal, attached with little gold rings. She noticed his gaze, and her anger intensified. She glared down at him with unbridled fury.
The reason for that was obvious—she still stank faintly of the slime he'd pushed her into. "The king entrusted me with his most valuable prisoners—those who pose the most threat to his kingdom and the peace of its good creatures. Did you really think someone could walk into my prison without my noticing?
"You've caused quite a bit of trouble for the Storm King."
"I'm just doing what I'm told. Said I was sorry about what happened—it was an accident. Didn't see any rules about walking around." Phil stared back, his defiance not dampened by the pain from an array of minor bumps and bruises. If there was a single bright spot in all of it, at least Tempest had taken her anger out on him specifically. The prisoners of this awful place had already suffered enough. His heart raced in his chest, beating faster than any human's ever would. "What do you want from me?"
"Information," she snarled, her voice like ice. "Let's start with your name. The record here says...Grid Iron. There's no such pony anywhere in Storm records."
He shrugged. Phil had given that false name to the guards at intake, rather than reveal the truth. Even with minimal background into his new world, it was obvious how different everyone's names were. Evidently his own attempt at a fiction was less convincing than he had hoped.
He looked down, pawing at the ground. "Grew up in a small town. Not many know about it. And I've never caused any trouble."
Tempest laughed, circling around her desk. At her gesture, the guards departed, backing away through the open door. Both took positions outside it, feet from where they spoke. Too close for him to make a move on the warden, at least not directly. But if she got any nearer, maybe...
"Never caused any trouble. Yet you're on a transport to Stormcage Prison?" Her horn glowed, faintly red. As it did, heat flared around his throat, wrapping tight like an invisible collar. It faded a few seconds later, leaving a shimmer behind— a shackle made of red light, matching the glow of her horn perfectly.
"Tell me your name, Grid Iron. Again."
"It's G—" Light pulled tight around his throat, as unyielding as leather. He coughed and spluttered, dropping flat to the floor.
"I do not know what you do," Tempest continued, circling around him. "And my...accident...makes it impossible to extract it from your mind without killing you. But this spell knows when you try to lie to me. Try to speak words you do not believe, and..."
Invisible force lifted him back to his hooves, like rough hands that gripped him all at once. He stood, facing his assailant. Her horn still glowed, flashes of light that turned into an even light through the crystal attached to it.
"Now, let's try again. Who are you?"
"Phil Adler," he spat. His voice was harsh and rough, his throat raw from a few seconds of strangulation. He would need to be more careful, or that spell might actually kill him.
"Well, that's interesting." She lifted her helmet down onto the desk beside her, shaking out a short mane. Under the helmet, her features were every bit as harsh as her words suggested. Scars broke her coat at several points, poorly healed. Just like the broken horn.
"Phil. You knew where the prison transport would be. Not sure where you got on, but you weren't with them when they left Canterlot. But here you are inside my gates."
He opened his mouth to deny the accusation, and felt the invisible line constricting before he even spoke. So he remained silent, glaring at her.
The unicorn looked increasingly smug. "Very good. The rebellion sent you. What are they planning?" She slammed her hoof on the cold stone floor, sending a tremor through Phil's body.
"Sorry, I'm not much of a conversationalist," he said.
"Resisting won't help you," she hissed. "I have ways of making creatures talk."
"Go ahead," Phil said, his eyes narrowing. He'd faced countless adversaries on the field. This was a different type of game, but he refused to give in without a fight.
"Very well." Tempest's horn crackled with dark energy. "You brought this on yourself."
The first jolt of agony ripped through Phil's body. He spasmed, his wings straining against their bonds with muscular contractions.
The pain intensified, causing Phil to grit his teeth harder and clench his wings tightly against his body. His mind raced, searching for a way to escape this torment. But then it was over. He dropped to the ground, his whole body steaming from the electrical burns.
"This is usually the part where my guest will tell me anything I ask," Tempest said, almost conversationally. How could she so casually torture him? "I suggest you do the same. Be mindful that it's the truth, if you want to keep breathing."
He shuffled slowly to his hooves again. He smelled something burning—himself, starting from the singed tips of his wings. He faced her.
"M-my name is...Phil. The rebellion plans to...rebel. They'll stop you."
The mare circled around him, until she stood inches from his face. He no longer had the strength to attack her, not how she deserved. "The...rebellion...is going to...rebel."
She smacked his shoulder, hard enough that he stumbled, dropping to one knee. "Truthful, but meaningless. The pony with the strange name, fighting harder than any of Canterlot's pathetic troops—"
She froze, her eyes widening suddenly. There was recognition there, sudden confidence.
"Human?" Tempest's eyes widened, her horn's energy dissipating. "You're from another world? Through the mirror?"
Phil realized his mistake too late, but there was no turning back now. "Yes," he admitted. Granted, he had no idea what “mirror” the pony was talking about. Hopefully, that meant the discovery would be less valuable to her.
"Interesting," Tempest mused, her gaze sharpening with renewed interest. "You are the pony they chose to send. Brave enough to infiltrate my prison. Bold enough to venture here alone, beyond the reach of friendly hooves. Fool enough to face me."
"Maybe," Phil responded. But inside, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread—he was playing a game he wasn't sure he could win. Phil's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to keep his breathing steady.
Tempest Shadow paced around him, her eyes scrutinizing every inch of him, searching for any sign of weakness. Phil had to be careful; he couldn't let her discover the teleportation crystal hidden within his hoof.
"They brought you here against your will, didn't they?" she said. Her voice was softer now than he'd yet heard it, almost compassionate. "The losing side, desperate for some tool to turn back their failures. There's no reason for you to be here."
She touched one hoof against his chin, turning it upward. "Look where you are, pony. Their war was over a long time ago. Equestria’s princesses are frozen in eternal crystal. The Storm King's rule will be eternal. That cannot change, not from any number of brave warriors."
He said nothing. Whether the truth spell would interpret his vain hope as a lie, he couldn't say. But the last thing he needed was more strangulation.
"I have another option," she continued. "You could throw yourself under the millstone for a lost nation. You'll die, eventually—after I'm finished with you. Or—alternatively, you could renounce your ties to the Equestrians."
She circled around him again, her voice dropping low. "They foalnapped you. They sent you here to die. To them, you're disposable. To the Storm King...you could be something more. Live a life of significance, a life of comfort. With a word, I could release you from this prison. I planned to return to Canterlot in the next few days. You could be on my airship, in my company. If I chose."
Without Starlight, he might've accepted. Tempest was right about one thing—the resistance had kidnapped him. He was here as a prisoner, forced to fight for the chance to ever see his home again. Why should he be loyal to people like that?
But Starlight and the other members of the rebellion showed him what life should be like in Equestria: peaceful, compassionate, friendly. No one deserved a miserable existence under the grinding fist of a dictator. The Storm King's own handiwork was far worse than kidnapping.
"You're a pony too," he said. "Why would you work with them? Look at what they're doing to your people. The way they're treated..."
Tempest's face hardened to fury. "Ponies made that decision. They abandoned me. What happened after—this was their fault.”
Before Phil could react, Tempest's horn flared to life, and a surge of magical energy ripped through the air. Force yanked his foreleg upward, turning it towards him. The sensitive flesh underneath screamed in pain, and a little shard of crystal levitated, right into the air between them. He gasped, reaching for the crystal with desperate energy.
The burns were too much, Tempest's magic too fast. She held it high overhead, backing away across the room. "You think because my horn was damaged that I would be oblivious to the presence of such magic? Are you that naive?"
"Give it back!" he gasped, desperate. For the first time since arriving at Stormcage, Phil felt genuine terror. Without that shard, his final lifeline to the outside was gone. He could die in a place like this, and never see the sun again.
She turned it over in one hoof, before setting it gently down on her shelf.
"Did you really think I'd let you keep this?" Tempest asked, her horn still crackling with energy. "You may have been a formidable opponent in your world, but here, you're nothing more than a pawn."
Tempest Shadow's magic crackled like lightning around Phil, causing his coat to stand on end. The air grew heavy with ozone and burnt feathers. With each pulse of her dark power, jolts of pain shot through his body, leaving bruises and welts in their wake.
"Enough!" Tempest snarled, releasing her grip on Phil as he crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.
"Take him back to Maximum Security," she ordered. "And make sure he understands that this is only the beginning if he continues to defy me. You wanted to be in Stormcage so badly? Congratulations, you're invited. I hope you enjoy your stay."
The guards hesitated for a moment, glancing uneasily at Phil's battered form. Then they gripped him, lifting under his forelegs. He no longer had the strength to struggle. They dragged him from the room, steam still rising from the burns across his body.
"Think about our conversation!" Tempest called after him. "Perhaps you'll reconsider which side you want to join."
A few minutes later, the guards reached the ramp into Maximum Security. They heaved, and he tumbled down onto the stone. He slid a few feet, then fell still.
This was it. The key to their escape now sat in the warden's office, behind a dozen armed guards and many locked metal gates. They were trapped.
tf-sential
