Down the long, empty corridor, the clopping of armored hooves reverberated off the cold stone walls. The heatless flames that clung to the withered wood of the torches dimly painted all that was near them a ghastly shade of blue as they radiated their perpetual light, illuminating the path.
The atmosphere grew more and more claustrophobic with each step, the darkness seeming to
wrap around the pony’s throat in an attempt to strangle the life out of her. Due to the hall’s immense length, this discomfort stretched for what seemed to be eternity.
Just as the world seemed to be closing in on her, the hooded figure noticed the corridor finally coming to an end. She had reached her destination: a cell. Here, the torches were weaker than ever, the magic keeping them alive nearly dissipated as it left little licks of light on the dried resin.
This was deep in the Canterlot Dungeons, underground and away from pony society. The Princesses, when they could not spare enough magical power to send great threats to Tartarus, would instead lock them away here to decay in isolation with an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ mentality.
The darkness of the cell was ominous, seeming to suck away all light and life. Around it were several of the strongest and most long-lasting runes the Runesmiths of the time could conjure, carved into the stone walls surrounding it and some weaved into the cell door itself. Due to being planted centuries ago, however, and with the presence of magic nearly gone altogether, the runes had grown fragile, stiffened and weak as opposed to flexible and sturdy. Breaking these would be child’s play.
The pony stopped short of the entrance, taking a calming breath. She knew what she was about to release as she flared up her horn in a weak purple glow, but she was all out of options at this point. If she wanted to save what she cared for most, she would need to free what should otherwise rot. At least that’s what the Princess told her.
Today she would be reuniting with an old friend.
The mage swiftly destroyed the runes, shattering them in moments, while any other unicorn would have spent hours, perhaps even days, working on just one. Knowing the intricacies of magic through extensive studying coupled with learning from one of the most powerful magic users on the planet certainly had their advantages.
Now all that separated her and the fragments of her country from possible destruction or salvation was a simple iron door. She frowned, taking a deep, steadying breath before taking a hoof and pushing it open, finding more darkness waiting on the other side. Amidst the lightless interior, however, she could just barely make out a silhouette lying motionless against the far wall.
It appeared to be a corpse – its limbs thin and its skeleton visible beneath its pale skin. What little clothing it had were only enough to preserve its decency, tattered as the rags were, though it wasn’t as though decency were of any concern to it.
The mage willed a small luminescent orb into existence, channeling the magic through her horn and outward into the desired object. The brightness wasn’t considerable, but it allowed the pony to see more of the spartan surroundings: a stone floor, windowless walls, and a bucket that was almost certainly not used for drinking or washing.
The orb settled at the low ceiling, acting as a bulb of sorts, shedding light upon the entirety of the room.
It was then that she had noticed the corpse was no longer where it once lied.
A cold sweat broke down the pony’s forehead as she noticed the lack of a body, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she quickly drew her pointed dagger from its sheath with her magic. She looked all around the room, scanning everywhere for any sign of movement. When she turned her focus away from the orb, however, it vanished, leaving her bathed in both blackness and a frigid sense of terror. Left, right, and left again her eyes snapped as she backed ever so slowly to the exit, using the glow from her horn and the grip on her weapon to keep watch for the skulking corpse.
It wasn’t until she bumped into something that was all too alive that she realized she probably was not going to leave this cell with her life. She spun around, but before she could raise her dagger, she was grabbed by the throat and slammed into the ground. The assault left her winded, and her magical grasp on her dagger dissolved as she wrapped her hooves around the hand at her throat, struggling to free herself from its grasp.
She lit her horn once more, preparing a spell that would knock her attacker unconscious, but the creature tightened its grip on her throat, privy to her plan, making her spell in the works fade into oblivion. Spots dotted her vision as she frantically struggled to breathe, and as the world around her dimmed, the creature grabbed her by the head, roughly yanking it to the side in a way that exposed her lavender neck.
Salivating freely above her, the creature’s sunken eyes were focused solely on her neck. The adrenaline that had kicked into her system made a strong return when the pressure around her trachea was lightened, and she harshly coughed as the creature moved its open jaws closer and closer, taking its time with its first meal in centuries. It was then that she caught sight of her knife nearby.
Reaching toward it, she gasped when the creature’s cold breath made contact with her fur, its large, pointed teeth nearing her soft flesh. Just before it could sink its unholy maw into her neck, though, she managed to grab the knife in a hoof, swiftly flipping it so that she could stab it downward into the feral vampire’s shoulder. It screeched as its blood spilled from the wound, the pony sending her hoof crashing into its bony face to keep it out of biting distance.
Rearing back from the impact, but not nearly harmed enough to be discouraged, the ghoul hissed dryly at her before falling to all fours and crawling out of sight, a trail of blackened red faintly noticeable in its tracks. The pony quickly sent out an SOS using a weak magical spell before making a beeline toward the entrance to the cell. A growl was all that was heard from above before down from the ceiling came the corpse, its intent once again lined on its serrated teeth as it honed in on its target.
And to a spectator, one would have seen a spark of light - so quick that if one were to blink they would miss it - followed by a shriek and thud, followed by the sound of something being dragged. Then, silence.
As the horns of both of the guards flared when they received the call for help, they immediately sprang into action. “The Princess is in trouble!” one of them shouted, already storming down the dim corridor with his partner hot on his trail. The two of them found their way to a staircase of stone that led further down into the tomb of a prison, passing room by abandoned room and tearing through errant strands of cobweb as they made way to rescue their leader.
The unicorn at the lead let out a frantic cry. “Hurry! Her magical trail is fading, and fast!” As the duo rounded a corner, sliding atop the shifting grime coating the floor to a stop, they discovered the SOS make one final beat before it completely flatlined, leaving them staring apprehensively down a long, dark hall, the torches on the wall that had been lit for centuries having died. All that could be heard were the shaky breaths of the guards as they stood before what looked to be the entrance to Tartarus itself.
“Princess Twilight, is she…” said one of the guards as he moved to stand beside his Captain.
“Hold your tongue, Private!” hissed the Captain.
“But the creature! If he’s got her, we should be charging in there to save her life! Her endangerment call has faded, so we need to-” the Private cut himself off the moment he heard the banging of a metal door.
“Keep your eyes peeled and your mouth shut, Private. I think we’ll know soon enough exactly what we’re dealing with…” With that, the guards stayed silent, both magically drawing their gladii from their hilts as they vigilantly kept watch over the darkness ahead. What was odd was the fact that it didn’t quite reek of the Miasma like most darkness did, but of something else entirely. Despite this, something on the air still felt… wrong.
An echo danced along the cold walls of the prison. Another followed, parading after the first in a discordant sashay. And another, and another. As the duo raised their ears, they could hear a soft dragging sound between the clatter. Something was headed their way, and whatever it was, it was taking its sweet time as it neared their position.
The Captain felt a trail of sweat run down his forehead, teeth gritted while determined eyes faced the darkness. The Private turned to look behind himself at this time, for the first time in his career entertaining the idea of deserting his post and taking his chances with the Changelings at the west or the Diamond Dogs at the south in order to keep himself alive for at least another day. Light forbid he be captured by Celestia if he were to act on such a blasphemous urge.
The sound was now on top of them, echoing from all around.
Clack. Clack. Swwoosh. Clack. Clack. Swwoosh.
The Private, a chill running down his back as he could have sworn he felt something breathing down his neck, spun around, sword shaking in his magical grasp. The Captain’s eyes shifted this way and that as he tried to triangulate precisely where the noise was coming from, more than a little unease racking his already stressed mind.
“Private,” said the Captain, now turning around to keep watch over their backs as the Private switched his attention to the direction of the cell door. “I need you to light your horn, right this instant.” When no response came, the Captain’s eyes darted back to his partner. “Private! That is an order!” he hissed. When his orders again went ignored, he shifted his focus to his Private, who looked as though he had fallen victim to the stony gaze of a Cockatrice. “Are you hearing me, soldier…?” He, too, had found himself at a loss for words upon seeing what was standing before them. In the murky depths of the shadows, they could make out two shapes, one presumably of their princess, and the other of a thin, lanky creature.
“P-Princess…” said the Captain, his eyes widening as he lowered his gladius. And into view stepped Twilight. a light trail of blood leaking from her lavender neck and a limp in her trot. “A-are you-”
“I am fine, Captain,” she interrupted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Twilight tiredly trotted past her guards, unconscious creature in tow, breathing deeply the dank air into her taxed lungs. She dropped it at their hooves, continuing onward without a word or even a backward glance, leaving the weight of the journey upon their shoulders. And for the long walk out of the musty dungeon, that is exactly where the guards bore it. Resheathing their weapons, the two exchanging a relieved glance at seeing their Princess relatively unharmed before working in tandem to get the creature over their withers.
Despite its emaciated appearance, it being abundantly clear that the ghoul had not been properly fed since it had been contained, the creature still managed to exhaust from them a large amount of their combined stamina as they carried it. The two kept this grievance private, however, following the purple alicorn at their lead as they all passed torch by torch, cell by cell, before finally again ascending the stairs and escaping the damnable crypt under the guise of a containment sector.
The guards tried not to focus on just how large and mazelike the prison was, or on just how old and decrepit it appeared to be, not so much out of any mustered sympathy for the criminals who were contained there as for their own peace of mind; they instead kept their attention firmly set on the exit and the ghoul, particularly how such an ancient creature in such a poor condition could lend any form of help to them or their Princesses in their plans.
All they did know was that things would only grow more complicated than they already were.
Silence reigned, Princess Celestia mulling over the information she had just received from one of her Celestial Guards. The moonlight poured into the throne room, illuminating the floors as well as some of the Perennial Guards, but casting shadow over the Princess, making her expression impossible to judge. “So you mean to say that your entire squadron has been taken prisoner by the Diamond Dogs?”
“Y-yes, Princess,” responded the shaking stallion as he bowed. He had taken his helmet off in respect to her before bowing, exposing his close-cropped blue hair.
“And the artefact they had managed to retrieve was too taken?” she further questioned, no emotion in her words to allow anyone to identify what exactly she had been thinking about the news.
If Platinum Mist could have grown any more pale, he would have appeared ghostly. “You must understand, Princess Celestia, we were outnumbered. They took us by surprise!”
“Was the artefact taken, First Lieutenant Platinum Mist?” she repeated.
The stallion pressed his nose to the floor, quaking in terror. “I-I’m sorry, Princess Celestia…”
The Solar Monarch rose from her throne, gracefully moving down the steps toward the soldier who looked as though he was going to burst into tears at any moment. Her expressionless face held as she loomed over him. “You may rise, my subject.” she said authoritatively. When he did not move, her voice became more forceful. “Rise.” The stallion did as she ordered, still shaking as he tried and failed to make eye contact. Platinum Mist sniffled, and Princess Celestia allowed herself to adopt a concerned frown as she reached down to cup his chin, raising his head so that he would look her eye to eye. “There is no need for tears, Platinum,” she assured, drying his face with a hoof. “You will not be punished for your failure. Now, tell me how it is that you escaped the clutches of the Dogs.”
Platinum Mist swallowed dryly, wiping away any errant droplets before answering. “They let me go.”
“Why?”
The stallion gulped. “To deliver a message. They wanted me to tell you ‘the Dens are never to be defiled by filthy pony hooves’.
Taken aback, the Princess’s eyes widened before narrowing. “They have gone too far this time. I was hoping democracy would work for once, but it appears that my efforts have been for naught.” She turned and ascended the stairs to rest once more upon her throne. “You may leave, First Lieutenant; you have earned your rest for the night. I will prepare an extraction team to ensure the safe return of both my ponies and my artefact.”
Platinum Mist gave a final low bow, uttering a quick and relieved “Thank you, Princess,” before he turned to exit the throne room.
As he left, in rushed a Royal Guard. He gave a hasty bow, not speaking until the princess granted him permission. “Your Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle wishes to speak with you. Her personal guards have some… they have a creature of some sort, and she does not know what should be done with it.”
“Collect three Runesmiths and have them confine him within one of the guest rooms. Be sure that he is shackled from head to foot and keep two Perennials at his door at all times, just to be safe. I will be there to personally check on him after my business here is complete.”
“And concerning Princess Twilight?” the guard inquired.
“Tell her we may speak. I am certain that she has quite a number of questions for me in light of this change of circumstances.”
The guard saluted before trotting back out.
It has been over three hundred years… Celestia thought to herself. What is one day more?
The throne room doors creaked as the Royal Guards held them open for their less recognized princess, Twilight Sparkle trotting toward Princess Celestia with a purpose as determination burned in her eyes. She gave her former student a nod.
“Princess Celestia,” greeted Twilight in her usual unemotive tone of voice.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” responded the Solar Monarch. “It has been a while since we have spoken vis-a-vis. What brings you here today?”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed as her lips curled into a frown. “We have to talk.”
Celestia’s smile never wavered as she maintained her stately disposition. “Indeed we do, Twilight. We have much to discuss.”
Surrounded by enemies on all sides, with a rescue in the works. Pushed past desperation and in need of… Him. Twilight at my throne and eager to cross-examine my methods and plans. I certainly have my hooves full this time around. Despite everything, a small smile, a rarity in today’s age, made its way onto the princess’s face. This would prove interesting.
Princess Celestia trotted down the hallway, two Royal Guards in tow. She had just finished lowering the sun, and her next most pressing task sat chained and immobilized within one of the many rooms of Canterlot Castle. Upon reaching her destination, she spied two Perennials standing still as statues outside of one room in particular. When she approached, they turned their stony gazes to her as they saluted.
“At ease.” The guards lowered their gray hooves back to the marble floor. “Have the Runesmiths done as I asked?” Celestia queried despite already knowing the answer.
“Of course, your Majesty,” responded one of the guards. “Naturally, they have done exceptionally well in their containment procedure. With runes as strong as these, the prisoner will not be going anywhere outside of the room’s four walls in the next millennia.”
“Excellent.” Celestia’s horn then let out a dim light, and in a fraction of a second the runes were shattered. “But as you can tell, they still require work. Come along, now.” In walked the princess, the Perennials following as she pushed open the door. The Royal Guards then replaced the Perennials and stood outside the room, standing vigilant as the door closed behind them.
The room was locked under a blanket of darkness, the only light that seeped into the room shut out by the closed door. On the table sat an unused candle, and Celestia levitated it in front of her before setting it alight, permitting just a tad of visibility to herself and her guards. She didn’t have to search far in the confined bedchamber to discover the creature huddled into a corner, motionless.
Celestia closed the distance between herself and the creature, placing the candle on one of the nightstands, before lowering her head to take in its fragile appearance. She hummed as she gently lifted the white hair that was cascaded about its head to allow herself to see its face. It was gaunt, skeletal in appearance, with a long, flowing beard that extended down past its chest. As her gaze lowered, she took in just how damaged its body was: pale skin that tightly hugged its ribcage; bony arms with hands that ended in chipped and dirtied fingernails; legs that seemed nigh useless in the fact that there was no muscle whatsoever upon them. The list went on and on. One thing that stood out to her in particular, however, was a bandaged wound upon its shoulder.
“Who else was allowed entrance into this room aside from myself?” she asked, still inspecting the bandage.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” answered one of the Perennials. “She stated that the creature had something that belonged to her and, upon retrieving what she was after, decided to patch him up, citing ‘keeping assets alive and relatively unharmed’ as being her cause for doing so.
“What could he have had in his possession that she possibly would have wanted?” Celestia suddenly found herself curious as to why Twilight would willingly bother with him so soon, if their most recent meeting according to her was anything to go by. That reminded her, though, she would need to have a small… ‘discussion’ with Twilight’s personal guards and their duties. The Captain especially.
“A knife.” This response caught Celestia off guard, the Solar Princess raising a brow. So that’s how she fought him off…
Upon hearing a small groan, Celestia lifter her eyes to find them connected to the creature’s own set of clouded orbs. They seemed less like the piercing eyes of the intelligent, calculating being it once was, and more like the aimless eyes of a dying, frightened beast, what with its thousand yard stare holding within it what appeared to be the dark overcast of a storm past.
A flash of light sparked atop her horn, and he let out a pained growl, shutting his eyes tight. As she placed her horn upon its forehead, however, he relaxed, once again falling into a deep sleep. The princess again stood, turning to her guards. “Unshackle him.” They did so without question. When the creature was free of its bounds, Celestia took a seat at one of the tables in the room, magically grasping the candle from the nightstand and floating it over to her.
“You may now return to your original posts, my guards. I am confident I will not come to harm, but stay alert in case that your aid is required. Be sure on your way out to tell the Royal Guards they may rest for the night.” Armored hooves clacked and the door was opened before again closing.
Teleporting a document from her chambers to the table, Celestia made herself comfortable as she read it over, using the small amount of light emitted by the candle to analyze its contents.
“Details concerning the annexation of Equestrian land for the growing Gryphon Empire…” she read. Fantastic, and just when things couldn’t get any worse, in came the Gryphons to strongarm her into another one-sided “deal”. This problem would soon be rectified, however. Celestia now had a trump card. A wild and undeniably unpredictable trump card, but a trump card nonetheless.
In spite of everything, Celestia couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved. Still, a greater sense of dread plagued her mind as her thoughts drifted to Him. He was imprisoned for a reason; his freedom brought with it a threat to her ponies and her nation. She would have left him to rot for the rest of his unnatural life for these reasons, but she was all out of options at this point.
I will not make the same mistake twice. I would not have brought him back without having a surefire way to assure his utter loyalty to myself. Celestia’s eyes hardened as she glanced back toward Him. Rest peacefully, vampire, for this will be the last night of tranquility you shall have in a long while.
