The World Without Shadows

Chapters

Chapter 1: Encaged
Chapter 2: Ilvara
Chapter 3: Quaggoth
Chapter 4: Sarith
Chapter 5: Allies
Chapter 6: Derendil
Chapter 7: Contraband
Chapter 8: Asha
Chapter 9: Jorlan's Gambit
Chapter 10: A Flight of Demons, Part I

Chapter 1: Encaged

I woke up with a start. My head throbbed, and my body was stiff and sore. When I opened my eyes, I only saw the same pitch-blackness that greeted me from behind my eyelids.

"Ow, my head…" I groaned and blinked blearily. "Where am I?"

Silence answered me, punctuated by the steady roar of water somewhere nearby. The tangy scent of mildew clung to the air and burned my nostrils—a pebble pressed against my cheek. I was still in the cave, it seemed, though precisely where or for how long I was passed out I wasn't sure. Was there some sort of cave-in? Did I fall and hit my head? These and more questions swam through my jostled brain as I attempted to put my thoughts in order.

The rushing water brought attention to my parched mouth, and I licked my dry lips. If I was this thirsty, I must have been down here for at least a few hours - maybe even a day. My saddlebags were gone, likely fallen off in whatever accident befell me. I channeled magic into my horn for a basic light cantrip so I could find them.

Sharp pain lanced my skull as the spell rebounded, and I winced. I swallowed a wave of panic as the stars faded. Oh Celestia, did I crack my horn in the fall? Lifting a trembling hoof to my head, I carefully felt up the keratin to inspect it for damage. My fear turned to relief and confusion. Though I felt no damage, something was attached to my horn.

A horn ring. My relief evaporated, and my fear returned tenfold. The magic suppression ring clung tightly to my horn; its barbs angled upward into the ridges so that any tampering would cause excruciating pain. It needed a key to be removed safely. I flexed my wings and found them bound tightly to my barrel with chains and some other sturdy material. Then I reached down and finally noticed the cold metal collar that clung tightly to my throat.

I whimpered as the realization settled in: I was captured, ponynapped, and held somewhere underground. My friends and the other princesses would come for me - I knew this - but not even I knew where I was or how long I'd been missing. Could it have been the diamond dogs? Unlikely, not after their experience with Rarity, and they wouldn't dare try to hold an alicorn. Spike knew where I was going, so they would at least be able to pick up the trail there.

Something shuffled in the dark, and I scrambled across the floor to put my back against the wall. There was rattling around my hooves, and in my panic, I half-noticed the chains around my fetlocks. I had no magic, couldn't fly, and only had the foggiest idea of what creatures dwelt here. My heart pounded in my ears, and I thought I could see some shadow moving in the impenetrable darkness.

A voice broke the silence. Someone was whispering, but it was either too quiet for me to hear or a language I didn't know. The voice was soft and punctuated by an occasional yip and growl. Another voice responded, more resounding and despondent - almost bored.

"Hello?" I tentatively called out to the dark. "Is there anypony there?"

I felt something large approaching. The footsteps were soft but had a hefty weight to them, and the rattling of more chains accompanied them. Straining my eyes, I found the cave was not as pitch black as I thought. A small lantern hung from a chain on the ceiling, radiating with an eerie green glow that cast menacing shadows across the walls. One shadow filled my vision, close enough for me to feel its breath on my face, and I laid on my belly to make myself as small as possible.

"Pony," the creature said after a sniff. "You're awake."

This was the first voice I heard. Now that it was closer, I could tell this person was a mare - or whatever their female equivalent was. Her accent was thick and gravelly. The figure stooped beside me and, though I couldn't make out any defining features in the low light, she had a bulky body with thick-muscled arms that hung low. Her face jutted forward in a sharp snout. A diamond dog?

"Who…" I swallowed my nervousness. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"I'm Eldeth, little pony," she replied in what was probably meant to be a reassuring tone. "I am a prisoner, like you and among others, and you smell like you are very far from home."

"A prisoner? Imprisoned by whom, and where are we?"

"Well little pony," Eldeth plopped beside me, her chains clanking loudly. "I'm not entirely sure where, but I've heard the guards call this place Velkynvelve. We're somewhere in the Underdark, being held captive by denevér."

The word immediately rang familiar to me. It was an Old Ponish word of the thestral dialect - their word for themselves, to be precise - and not one used anymore except for old manuscripts and folk tales. My thoughts went back to one of my many lessons with Princess Celestia. When Nightmare Moon was defeated, many of her loyal followers fled into the deep caves scattered across Equestria rather than face capture or surrender. Princess Celestia sent a hooffull of expeditions to root them out, but the thestrals had delved too deep to find them reliably.

Over the centuries, the denevér had become little more than folk tales to scare foals at night, but I knew there was some truth to the legends. On the darkest nights of the new moon, their scouts would venture to the surface to capture innocent ponies and drag them back to their subterranean hideaways. Nopony knew what became of their captives since there was almost no record of anypony ever escaping the denevér, and any patrols sent after them were easily eluded or slaughtered. Officials had written off most of these ponynappings as monster attacks or unsolved missing pony cases, but the truth was there for whoever knew where to look or whom to ask.

And, unfortunately, I was privy to both.

A shiver went up my spine as a foalhood terror suddenly manifested, but I steeled my resolve. This was, after all, not the first time I've faced a myth-turned-reality. Though I've had my friends at my side before, I was sure I could pull through this trial.

"Do you know why they want us?"

Eldeth shrugged. "I'dunno. Slaves? Sacrifices? They also might have their giant spiders hunt us for sport. Some of us have been here longer than others, and we've heard things."

"S-sacrifices?! W-what…" I gulped and pushed the issue aside. "I'm sorry, but how many of you are there? I can barely see in front of my hooves!"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I forgot your pony eyes don't see very well in the dark. There's me and nine more in here."

"How did we get here?" I asked, uncurling my hooves and sitting up straight. The diamond dog sat a good head-and-a-half taller than me. "I remember I was just doing some surveying in the caves outside Ponyville. The local diamond dog pack had been having trouble with some quarry eels, and they asked me for help. I was in the cave, and… I think maybe I took a wrong turn? At some point, I think I hit my head and passed out. It's still a little fuzzy."

"I was part of a scouting party patrolling some of the tunnels on the outskirts of Grafaborg. We got ambushed, and those blasted bats pelted me full of their sleeping darts. I went down like a sack of gold nuggets, and next thing I knew I woke up here with these numbskulls. I'd wager something similar happened to you. Got turned around, went down a wrong tunnel, and stumbled across a scouting party without ever noticing them."

I stared at the ground, fell silent, and ruminated on what Eldeth told me. If what she said was true, then there's no telling how long I'd been captured. They could have brought me here before whatever drug they used wore off, or they might have kept me sedated indefinitely. Being at my captors' mercy for untold days, unconscious, brought a shiver down my spine and nausea in my gut.

"Hé, mutyi," another voice pulled me from my thoughts, "a póni végre felébredt?"

Another creature approached us. This thing walked on four legs but was much smaller than me. The gait made me think of hooves, but the patting of its feet was too silent. Thin, almost gaunt compared to Eldeth, I couldn't begin to guess what manner of creature this was. I would have thought it was a foal, except the voice that belonged to it was much higher pitched, almost squeaky, and with a slight hiss, but tempered by a smooth suavity that probably wouldn't have been too out of place among Canterlot Heights.

"Ő az," Eldeth responded in the same language. "és én elmondtam neki, milyen káoszban találta magát."

"I can only imagine what kind of shock you must be in," he turned to me and replied, this time in an accented Equestrian, drawing out his S's and making a sharp clicking sound at the end of the shock.

"Oh, you can speak Equestrian?" I blinked.

"The pony language is rare down here. I think out of all of us, only Eldeth and I are fluent. Ront over there in the corner, the gryphon, can speak a little. He's also from the surface."

"Oh!" Eldeth turned back to me. "I'm sorry… This is Jimjar. He's a sziklabold, a glitter sprite. They are like ponies, but tinier, and… made of rock, I think?"

"And how did you get in here?"

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," he waved a spindly hoof and leaned against the wall. "I made a few bad bets, pissed off some well-connected people, got caught, and then I was sold to a denevér convoy. I told them I would pay them back… All I needed was one good score. And no, we're not made of rock. Our coats are just a bit more coarse than you sun-dwellers. So what's your name, pony?"

"Twilight," I said, reaching out a hoof. "Twilight Sparkle."

"Üdvözöljük a Alulsötét, Twilight Sparkle." Jimjar shook my hoof and dipped into a bow.

"What does that mean?" I looked back to Eldeth.

"It means 'welcome to the Underdark', Twilight Sparkle."

I could not tell if it was a warm welcome… or a warning.

There was a shout at the barred gate of our holding pen. It was the only sound I'd heard for a couple of hours besides rushing water, which I had learned to be a waterfall somewhere beyond this chamber, and the morose mutterings of my cellmates. I strained my eyes to see, but the dim light of the lone lantern only extended a few feet beyond the bars. All I could discern were four shapes.

The other prisoners clambered to their feet and paws and formed a line at the door. I joined them out of curiosity and a desire not to draw attention to myself. I stood between a grumbling gryphon, whom I guessed to be Ront, and a diminutive diamond dog. As we drew closer, I peered out from behind the gryphon to get a better look at our captors.

The two figures in the center were pony-shaped, though I could see their eyes' slitted, catlike pupils glowing a sickly green from reflecting the light of the lantern. On their flanks were two hulking behemoths that, at first glance, I thought were diamond dogs—but their proportions were off. They were tall enough, but their front limbs were much narrower, giving them a vaguely simian shape.

I glowered and scowled. It was so hard to see in here! If I could access my magic, I could get a good look around with a darkvision spell or a light cantrip. The first thing I needed to do was get this suppression ring off, and then– Oof!

I walked into a face full of feathers. Ront whipped around, glared at me, and snapped his beak in my face.

"Vatch it, pony," he snarled and shoved me aside. I landed on my rump with a grunt and looked up to see the gryphon walking away with a small clay bowl in his talons.

"Ahh, the pretty pony princess is finally awake," one of the denevér snickered, voice dripping with condescension and venom.

"Did you sleep well, your highness?" the other sneered. "I'm so sorry we couldn't have a servant rouse you. Maybe some breakfast will cheer you up?"

I shifted my eyes to the two thestrals, ears flattened and head lowered. They were noticeably taller than me by a hoof, an impressive feat considering the extent of my alicorn growth. While I was lost in thought, I found myself at the front of the line, and now I finally got a good look at my captors.

They were wearing some sort of armor, but I couldn't tell what kind while they were half-submerged in the pitch-blackness of the cave beyond the bars. Whether or not they carried weapons was also a mystery to me, but it was safe to assume that they did. I turned my eyes to the larger creatures. What I thought were some sort of apes were more ursine, except they stood hunched over on their rear legs and had pale white fur covering their bodies. It wasn't white like snow or clouds like Celestia's or Rarity's fur, though; this white reminded me of bone. Large claws and sharp teeth were on full display, and their front-facing eyes gave me a look that made my back hoof tremble.

One of the guards shoved a clay bowl through the bars, breaking me from my trance. I leaned closer to take a closer look and sniffed. It was some sort of broth and smelled earthy. Some mushrooms, maybe?

"What's wrong? Is the food not up to royal standards?" the guard mocked. Do you need help eating? We wouldn't want you to tarnish your hooficure. Well, not yet, at least."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I looked up in confusion as he barked something in their language to the beast to his right.

The bear creature snapped its hand through the bars and grabbed me by the mane. I screamed and tried to twist away, but its grip was like a vice. It yanked and slammed me into the bars. Pain exploded in my face, and I blinked away tears. Oh Celestia, what was happening?! A hoof grabbed my face and forced my jaw open, and the next thing I knew, a lukewarm bitter liquid flooded my mouth.

I sputtered and coughed as something solid lodged in my throat. The flow didn't stop. It spilled across my mouth and down my chin. I couldn't breathe. They were laughing! I tried to scream or call for help, but nothing happened.

Finally, the flow ceased, and the creature violently threw me to the rocky ground. Feet shuffled past me, and no one dared to meet my tear-stricken eyes or offer a hoof—whether out of fear or apathy, it didn't matter.

"Méltó áldozat leszel, hamis istennő," one of the denevér guards spat.

I curled into a ball and sobbed.

The guards eventually left, and the cell grew quiet except for the faint slurping from bowls. I lay on the ground, curled in a ball, and stared at the wall. My face hurt, and I felt a bit of swelling along my gums along with the disgusting taste of copper in my mouth. There was nothing I could use as a mirror, so I hoped that thing didn't make me chip or bend a tooth.

My ear twitched as I heard the padding of feet come towards me. Something touched my back, cold and scaley, and I flinched away. I looked over my shoulder and half-expected to see one of the guards or the bear creature again, but I saw something else entirely. It stood on two legs. The body, though, wasn't like anything I had ever seen before... For one thing, it didn't seem to have a neck, and an enormous glossy eye on the side of its head met mine.

It gurgled at me and reached out with spindly fingers joined at the hand with webbing. I scrambled backward, fearful of another attack, but the thing raised its hands placatingly and backed away a step. The creature croaked and crouched down, meeting me at almost eye level at my prone position.

"What…" I sniffed. "What do you want?"

The thing tilted its head, shrugged, and garbled something else. It reached behind its back and revealed what appeared to be a small cloth, and it held it out for me.

"Is that… for me?"

It croaked and stretched out a hand towards me, palm up.

I tentatively reached out and took its hand. On closer inspection, it reminded me a little of Spike's claws, except these were longer, thinner, and the scales were smoother. It was still so alien; I couldn't recall seeing anything like this creature before. My curiosity peaked as it pulled me into a sitting position.

The creature took the cloth and gently wiped it across my muzzle and the fur on my neck. It felt damp, and the scent of mildew lingered on the fabric. Rarity probably would have had a fit, but it wasn't like there were any other options here, and the glimmer of kindness was a welcome reprieve from the kind of day I'd had.

Rarity. The thought of my friend brought a small smile to my face and a soft ache in my heart. I remembered when diamond dogs captured and enslaved her, but she could turn the tables on them with her wiles. In hindsight, those dogs were either not very bright or were just looking for an easy score. These bat ponies, however… I doubt those same tactics would work on them. Something told me it wouldn't go well if I started complaining about the living conditions.

"Ah, I see you've met Shuushar," Jimjar's voice appeared next to me.

"Ack!" I jumped, turning to face the sziklabold. "By Celestia, you're so quiet!"

"Sorry, heh," he snickered and sat beside me, his manacles clinking. "You need to keep your ears open more. Many things down here can sneak up on you if you aren't paying attention."

The creature, Shuushar, gargled indignantly at me.

"Oh, sorry." I replied and faced him again. "I know a spell that can help me see in the dark. If I didn't have this stupid ring on my horn then I could cast it and actually be able to tell what's going on."

"Ah, but if you didn't have the ring I'm sure you wouldn't be in this mess now would you? I'm sure that being a unicorn, and a winged one at that, you know a lot of very useful magic."

"Oh yes. The spellbook I brought in my saddlebags has a spell for opening locks. It's very useful if I have to get into any sealed tomes without damaging them. I also know a few variations of teleport. Unfortunately, I don't know where my bags went when I was captured."

"Well, if the denevér took your belongings, then they probably have them under lock and key. Yet another obstacle to overcome."

We lapsed into silence for a moment while Shuushar continued his cleaning. He had scrubbed a good portion of my face and neck, but I could only trust that he did his best to wipe away as much of that broth as possible. Sometimes, when the lantern light hit him just right, I saw the outline of a mouth that was far too wide and had far too many teeth. I shivered, and he seemed to clue into my discomfort and clamped his mouth closed.

"Jimjar, what… is he exactly? I don't think I've seen anything like him in Equestria. Same as you, actually."

"Unsurprising. Shuushar is a kuo-toa, one of the fishfolk. They, like my kind, are very sensitive to light and so rarely travel to the surface. The kuo-toa have a reputation for being quite mad, but Shuushar here seems… oddly level-headed, if that makes sense. Downright pleasant to be around compared to other examples of his species."

That was concerning. It seemed a little prejudiced to call an entire species insane. Shuushar seemed odd, yes, but I had never spoken to a fish before. He was very alien. I wouldn't be surprised if we seemed just as strange to him as he was to us.

Shuushar finally finished and then tucked the tattered dingy cloth away. He gurgled, turning his head side-to-side to look at me with one eye and then the other. I smiled and nodded, and he scampered away to a darkened corner of the cell.

"Jimjar…" I trailed off.

"... Yes?"

"Why didn't anyone help me when the guards attacked me?"

"The first rule of the Underdark, Miss Sparkle, is to keep to your own business. If anyone woulda helped ya, they would have been beaten half to death. What they did with you? That was hardly more than a prank, or some light teasing, to them. They don't care too much what we do in here - that's why Shuushar there could get away with giving you a hand - but they do not allow their authority to be questioned."

BANG! BANG!

I jumped. The clang of metal reverberated through the chamber, and our cell burst with activity. The bulbous shadows that clung to the room's corners rose from their resting places, chains clinking, and meandered towards the door. Jimjar sighed, stood up, and gestured to me to follow suit.

"What? What's happening?"

"Work detail," grumbled the muscular wall of Eldeth, who appeared next to me.

"You mean forced labor?"

"Essentially, except far less productive." The diamond dog scoffed. "This is mostly to keep us tired and them entertained. From what I've seen, there isn't much for a bored leatherwing to do around here except harass the prisoners and feed the spiders… Sometimes at the same time."

I stood on shaky legs and took a steadying breath. These thestrals were bullies and villains, yes, but they were still ponies. If there was good in them, I could draw it out. Friendship would win the day.

"Remember," Jimjar whispered behind me. "Stay low. Don't stand out. Do as you're told, and don't look them in the eye."

I was sure of it.

Author's Note

Welcome, dear readers, to The World Without Shadows! Alternately, The Story In Which I Do Hurtful Things To My Waifu. May God have mercy on my soul.

This is my first time writing in first-person, so this will be an interesting gear shift for me. I will also be determining a lot of what happens in this story through a D20 system, using the D&D 5e ruleset. So while I know the general direction this story is heading, things could take some interesting turns that will be a surprise for both of us. If you want to take a peek behind the DM screen and see the various skill checks, I'll post a link to the Google Doc for each chapter in an author's note.

I can't promise regular updates because I have a full-time job that is very physically demanding, and I would like to work on some of my other stories too, but for now, this project has captured my muse.

Behind The DM Screen

Chapter 2: Ilvara

Author's Note

*chases away the warren of dust bunnies*

Hello, readers. I kind of wanted to do a little writing, so enjoy this chapter I had mostly written forever ago and just finished. I also did a minor retcon in the first chapter. The deep gnomes are now a more Equestrian friendly original race.

Chapter 2: Ilvara

The door to our cell opened with a creaky groan, and an authoritative voice barked a command in the denevér language. We moved at a sluggish and disorderly march, our assorted chains and manacles creating a discordant keen that echoed through the cave. My ears twitched at the awful sound as we shuffled towards the gate.

One by one, the shadows vanished beyond the door and the meager lantern light. Eldeth said we were to be given work assignments, but how did I know if she was right? For all I knew, these thestrals and their strange bear creatures could have been leading us to our doom.

"Watch your step," Jimjar whispered as I exited the door. "Rope bridge ahead."

Darkness engulfed me as I left the safety of the lantern's light. All I heard were the rattling of chains and the roar of a waterfall somewhere off to the left… or was it the front? Behind? Sounds bounced chaotically off the rocky walls of whatever cave we were in. If we were about to cross a rope bridge, then the chamber must have been massive and deep.

The ground changed beneath me, and I stumbled. It was smooth and slick. I pressed my hoof into the strange new texture and discovered it had some give or bounce to it, and when I pulled away there was a subtle peeling sensation. Shivers ran down my back.

"Pony, move it!" growled a voice—Ront, I think—from behind me.

I gulped and stepped forward. The bridge swayed beneath me, and I froze. It was one thing to walk across a rope bridge stretching across an unfathomably deep chasm, but it was another thing entirely to do so completely blind! My breathing grew heavy. I couldn't see. The others were waiting behind me. Were the guards getting impatient? How long could I stall like this?!

I took a long, slow, deep breath. Panic was bad. I needed a clear head to get out of this situation. Slowly, tenderly, I stretched my hoof to the side to find the edge. It was uncomfortably close, but it was manageable. Though there was probably a railing of sorts, and I didn't want to risk leaning too far to find it. Instead, I put one hoof before the other and marched forward.

As we walked—and I shuffled—another light peeked out from behind the silhouette of the person in front of me. I leaned over as far as I could without compromising my balance and saw the vague outline of a wall sloping downward at an angle. Something similar was on the other side. We were walking into an enormous stalactite!

We stepped through an open archway, and my hooves landed on solid ground again. The room was small—too small for all of us to occupy. I glanced to the left and saw our procession passing through another door. Another lantern hung from the ceiling, and I assessed my surroundings before we moved on.

A table sat against the far side of the room opposite the door we entered. Three thestrals rested on stools, chatted with one another in their strange language, and held something in their hooves. One of them slid said object to the center of the table with a clack, and another thestral groaned and spat. Some sort of game, perhaps. The only detail I could make out was their eyes glowing in the lantern light, and they cast periodic glances at us as we passed. One of them met my gaze, and it eyed me curiously. It looked almost… hungry.

I looked away, flattening my ears, and the guard barked with laughter. He jeered something at me, and though I didn't understand him, I'm sure it was unpleasant. Jimjar nudged me. We were about to enter another bridge, and I steeled myself before leaving the light again.

I decided to count my steps to distract myself from the overwhelming blackness and the unnerving sway of the bridge. This bridge was longer than the first one, and it felt like we were ascending. The waterfall's roar was overwhelming, resonating on my left, and I felt mist tingle my coat. Every other sound was muted—even the rattling of my chains—and I contemplated leaping off the edge and into the water below.

Only a thought. Just for a moment. There was no telling how high of a jump it was or if I would even land in water and not dash myself on a pile of rocks. If my wings were free, my chances were less slim… but no magic and no source of light? I'd probably fly straight into a wall.

The bridge ended, and we were on solid ground again. On our right, we passed another chimney-like structure that radiated with a dim glow. Before we moved past it, I could just make out some large object in the center of the room. We entered a courtyard down a flight of steps, hugging a wall on my left.

I loosely used the term 'courtyard' here, as I could hardly see anything in front of my hooves. However, several small beacons of light gave a facsimile of definition to my surroundings. Two other structures—now that I could see they were enormous stalactites—hung from an unseen ceiling to the right over a bottomless chasm. Greenish light glowed from windows and doorways on each tower, identifying the existence of two floors. On the left, light emanated from three separate chambers.

Our procession stopped in this courtyard. The other prisoners and I arranged ourselves into four rows. Shadows flitted to and fro, cutting through the meager light of the towers, and I saw large shapes climbing head-first down the cavern walls. Judging by their stature, I recognized these as the bear creatures from earlier who accompanied the thestral guards.

A litany of growls, screeches, and clanging metal filled the courtyard. The noise reverberated off the cavern walls, echoing and amplifying, and I tried to muffle it by pressing my ears against my skull. Behind the noise was a chant—a single word belted out in their language—as the strange ritual built into a crescendo.

A shadow passed over us, and a large shape landed a few paces before our procession. Four hooves touched the stone with a whisper, and the cavern grew silent. Wings, enormous and batlike, stretched between the two towers. Two slitted eyes glowed sickly green, and my breath hitched as I saw the silhouette of a horn atop this thestral's head. An alicorn… here?!

The horn lit, and motes of light flew out and floated like suspended starlight. For the first time since I woke up in my prison cell, I could see my surroundings. We stood on the precipice of a giant chasm overlooking a bottomless void that the light did not reach. Two stalactite towers stretched down from an unseen ceiling and ended somewhere below the ledge. Thestral guards, garbed in chainmail armor, and their bipedal beasts surrounded us, but the towering figure before me drew my gaze.

A thestral mare, lank and graceful, stood with her chin high and eyes burning into us with contempt. The horn, to my relief and curiosity, was a diadem placed on her brow. It glowed silver like moonlight that contrasted the dark miasma seeping from her eyes. She wore a white silken gown that clung to her flanks and wrapped in a crisscross pattern along her legs and neck. Her lips spread in a wicked sneer, revealing a pair of fangs long enough to pierce flesh.

"Greetings, my beloved guests," she purred as she sauntered past the prisoners. I hope you had a lovely meal. It's time for today's activities…"

There was something off about her voice. It warbled in my ear. Magic was involved, I was sure, and looking to my left and right at my fellow inmates confirmed my suspicions. They could understand her! My eyes were drawn to the artificial horn on her head. Was she, a non-unicorn, somehow casting advanced spells through the object? The implications astounded me, but I stowed the thoughts aside as she started speaking again.

"Ah, but we have some newcomers with us today, including a very special guest. A royal has decided to grace us with her presence, hailing from the halls of the Tyrant Sun herself. Please give her a warm welcome."

Several of the lights floated over my head, ruining any chance I had of being inconspicuous. The guards jeered, and a sharp pain shot through my flank from a thrown rock. I winced and saw the thestral mare grin. She approached, sliding through the prisoners' ranks, and stopped before me. Everyone else gave us a wide berth. Many of the other prisoners eyed me strangely as if noticing me for the first time, but my gaze met the eyes of my captor.

"You are a very long way from home, little pony. So very far from your scalding sun and decadent halls." she said, reaching up to brush a lock of matted mane away from my eye.

I flinched away, glaring at her, and I opened my mouth to—

Crack!

My jaw throbbed with white-hot pain, and a high-pitched whine ran in my ears. I was partially kneeling, knocked down by the mare who struck me across my face with her hoof. Biting back a sob of pain, I turned my face back up to her.

"Now, now… None of that. Here's how it's going to be. Here, princess, you are nothing. You are less than nothing. I am Mistress Ilvara of House Myzzrim, but you shall address me as Mistress, or Lady Myzzrim if I am feeling lenient. Accept your fate, learn to obey, and you may survive. If you disobey…?"

Ilvara levitated a rod that had three writhing tentacles sprouting from one end. She reeled back and, with a sickening crack, lashed Eldeth. All three tentacles struck true, and the diamond dog's eyes went wide as she arched her back. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream for what went like an eternity before she uttered a pained gasp and collapsed to the ground.

"Oh, I will so enjoy breaking you…" Ilvara whispered in my ear as I stared in shock. "Perhaps you will provide some much-needed levity for this wretched place. Your ultimate fate is Menzoberranzan and the Mistress of Nightmares. What state you get there, well, that is very much up to you…"

She sauntered away. Turning to one of the thestral guards, she spoke again.

"Shoor, divvy out today's tasks. Make sure to give our VIP something special."

A thestral stallion in studded black armor swaggered forward and held a small scroll. He looked very young, based on the few thestrals I'd encountered in service to Princess Luna, and was probably not any older than I was. A small black wand hung on one side, while a blade and a long, thin wooden pipe hung on the other. The thestral, Shoor, gave Ilvara a smirk as she turned away before unrolling the scroll. He cleared his throat and started barking words I didn't understand.

—

I gagged, my eyes watering, as I carefully picked the chamber pot up with my mouth. There was, fortunately, a handle to grab, so I didn't need to place my lips directly on the rim, but the smell. Oh, Celestia, the scent! The mushroom broth they were feeding us wasn't doing us any favors, and I was experiencing the results of our meager rations. If my fellow prisoners were faring any better or worse, they weren't showing it.

We were back in the dark, and I was shuffling my hooves across the floor. Though the dim lanterns gave off enough light to avoid running into a wall or walking off the ledge, it was still difficult to see what I was doing. The other two prisoners I was with were some sort of scrawny hairless diamond dog with abnormally large eyes, and the other was what I could only describe as a walking mushroom that came up to my withers.

The diamond dog muttered incessantly when our assigned guards were too far away to hear him. He dragged the chamber pot across the ground, its contents sloshing onto the stone, before tipping it over the edge to wherever it went below. His gaze landed on me frequently, and I recognized a studious look when I saw one. Our guards—more of the bear creatures—kept one eye on us as we worked.

The fungal creature, however, was having a hard time with it. It didn't seem to have any grasping appendages, only four stubby stalks for legs, so it had devised a clever method of pushing a pot up against the wall and leveraging it onto its back. The process was slow-going and messy, and more than once, it got a sharp rebuttal from the guards after taking too long or spilling.

I set my latest pot into the cleaning pile and shuffled over to the fungal creature as it struggled with its next one.

"Here," I whispered. "Let me help."

I nudged the handle up with my hoof and then, holding my breath, picked it up with my teeth. Careful not to spill, I gingerly set it on the creature's head, but as I pulled away, I heard a spritz like a discharge of compressed air, and a cloud of dust filled my nose and mouth. My throat seized, and I stumbled backward in a coughing fit that ended with a sneeze.

"Oh, sorry," a small voice whispered from nowhere. "I just wanted to say 'thank you' for the help."

"W-what?" I gasped, looking around before my gaze settled on the creature. "Was that you?"

"Yep! Sorry again. I forget that mammals aren't used to my rapport spores. Anyway, thank you for that. The bats like to give me jobs they know are hard for me."

"That doesn't seem very… efficient."

I blinked. This mushroom was speaking to me, and I was responding—the experience ranked in at least the top ten of the strangest things that have happened to me. My attention turned back to the fungus.

"No," it sighed. "No, it's not, but they're just bullies. They don't really care if it's done fast or good. They just want to laugh at me."

"Well I think you're doing a good job. What's your name? And, if I can be so blunt, what exactly are you? I've never seen anything like you before."

"Really? I thought everyone knew what myconids were! Oh, but the bad mare said you were from the surface, and I don't think there are many of us up there. What's it like up there? Is everything on fire? How do you not melt under the sun? Right, my name… Mammals apparently have a hard time saying our names, so you can call me Stool."

"No, nothing's on fire." I laughed. "Well, not always. At least not any more than usual, and the sun is only out about half the time. If it was, then everything probably would catch on fire, but Princess Celestia and Princess Luna keep the day and night on a regular schedule so that doesn't happen."

"Who are they?"

"Celestia is the one who raises and lowers the sun each day, and Luna, her younger sister, does the same with the moon. They rule Equestria together, though that hasn't always been the case."

Stool was very inquisitive for something I wouldn't expect to have a central nervous system, but that might have been my prejudices coming into play. It—or he, I wasn't sure—bombarded me with questions about me, the surface, and anything else he could think of. We passed the rest of the work shift like this. Stool and I assisted each other as best as we could without rousing the ire of the guards, and the diamond dog skulked and mumbled on the other side of the room.

We carried the chamber pots out of our pen, up to the edge, and emptied them. A water basin with thick-bristled brushes sat by the ledge for our use. It was disgusting work, and more than once, the guards shouted something at me before toppling the basin over, splashing filthy water over my hooves, and forcing me to go fill it up again. Once or twice, I had to heave over the ledge because of the stench.

By the time we finished, all three of us were filthy. I tried scrubbing the filth from my fur, but the guard knocked the basin over and took it away. A growl silenced my protests, and we were escorted back to the pen, still reeking of our labor.

Chapter 3: Quaggoth

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 4: Sarith

"There are ten of us," Jimjar said as he sat on my left, "including you. You've already met Eldeth, Topsy, Stool, Sarith, Shuushar, and myself. I think you've also met Buppido."

"Who's Buppido?" I blinked and ran through all the faces I'd met so far.

"Buppido is the shifty yapper skulking in the corner," Eldeth pointed across the room. "He's a derro."

I frowned. The word was familiar as if I had heard it once or twice before, but I couldn't place it.

"Derro… Isn't that a kind of diamond dog?" I looked at Eldeth.

"Once, maybe," she scoffed. "The derro are an offshoot of the mogorva, the dour folk, a breed of dogs that split off from us generations ago to delve deeper into the Underdark. They met something down there that twisted them and drove them mad. Derro are mogorva who were even worse off. Most are entirely insane."

"Oh, is Buppido the small diamond dog I was paired up with yesterday?" I asked. "He didn't seem that bad, though shifty is a good word for him."

"That's him," Jimjar nodded. "He does seem level-headed for a derro. Eccentric, yes, but so far he's been harmless. There's also Ront, the gryphon, and Turvy, Topsy's twin brother."

I nodded back. Ront and I had a brief encounter on the bridge yesterday, and Turvy must have been the other glitter sprite that I saw Topolya–Topsy–looking at earlier today. Though, as I counted the names in my head, I made a realization.

"That was nine, including me. Who was the tenth one?"

Jimjar and Eldeth traded glances, and the diamond dog cleared her throat. "We… Don't actually know his name, since he's using a language no one in here knows, but he's, well, a quaggoth."

The fur on my neck rose, and I snapped my eyes back and forth through the darkness around me. Once a security source, the locked gate suddenly made our cell feel very small. I gulped and took a deep breath.

"Right… Well, I'll deal with him later. In the meantime, can you translate for me? I want to speak with Topolya."

Topolya, who had remained silent through the conversation, perked up at her name. She stepped forward and spoke to Jimjar inquisitively, and he replied with a nod. The roguish glitter sprite turned back to me.

"Topolya," I began while Jimjar translated. "I'm sorry if I got you and Sarith into trouble. I got distracted and messed up. It won't happen again."

She placed a hoof on my shoulder and smiled. Topolya rattled off several words in the denevér tongue, and I turned to Jimjar.

"She said that all is forgiven and that she should have kept a closer eye on you. Fortunately, the denevér guard had intervened soon enough that the quaggoth hadn't gotten around to beating her and Sarith to a pulp after killing you."

I smiled back at her, and some tension left my shoulders. My fetlock still throbbed painfully, but I'm glad the others didn't suffer from my mistake.

"Can you tell me a little about yourself? Where are you from?"

As Jimjar relayed our words, I learned she and her brother were from a village called Blidgenstone to the northwest. They were picking mushrooms in the tunnels near their home when the denevér slavers captured them. Though they were twins, Topolya, or Topsy, as her name translated into Equestrian, generally acted as the big sister to her timid brother Turvy.

"Okay, now I want to speak to Sarith."

Jimjar frowned. "Are you sure? He's not exactly that talkative, and he's a denevér ."

"He's still one of us," I nodded. "We'll need his help to get out of here. I want to know more about his culture; to understand how they think. He might be able to give me some insight into what they're planning, and I also want to know why he's in here with us. I need to know if we can trust him."

"Fine," he sighed. "But don't go whining to me if he bites your head off."

Eldeth helped me to my hooves. I kept my injured one close to my barrel and hobbled forward on three legs. The manacles and chains between my legs made it difficult. My fetlock throbbed, and I swayed to the side as stars filled my vision, but the diamond dog was like a warm slab of granite that kept me steady. We picked up Stool on the way, and I limped to where Sarith brooded on an outcropping of rock.

Our cell was small now that I had a chance to explore it. It was about ninety hooves from the gate to the back and fifty from side to side. All ten of us were scattered throughout the little cave, sitting together alone in the dark, giving us the illusion of privacy.

His ear twitched as we approached. It was too dark to see his face, but the low light glinted off his slitted pupil. I froze, transfixed by the glare he shot me, and it reminded me of all the tribalist folk tales of bat ponies. The image of his teeth ripping into my throat came to me unbidden, and I shoved it away.

He's just a pony, I reminded myself. He might have grown up in a horrible place and did some bad things, but we're still the same.

"Hello, Sarith," I whispered, trying to keep the shudder out of my voice. I wasn't sure if it was from my pain or anticipation.

He tsked and looked at his hooves. Sarith's mane fell over his face, reminding me of a much more muscular and grumpier version of Fluttershy. My mouth twitched, and I cleared my throat.

"Stool, can you come here?"

I wasn't sure if he understood my words, but the little whither-high mushroom wobbled forward between Sarith and me. There was a hiss, and an odd scent tickled my nostrils.

"Hi, Twilight!" Stool's thought-speech echoed in my mind. "Are you okay? I heard what happened."

"Hello, Stool," I said, nuzzling him. "I made a mistake and got hurt, but I'll live. I'm sorry to impose, but I need you to help me talk to some of the other prisoners, starting with Sarith here."

An odd warmth radiated through my thoughts. It smelled like freshly tilled earth or sod after a spring rain.

"I'm happy to help!"

"Hello, Sarith," I directed my thoughts towards the thestral and tried to project friendly and welcoming emotions. He flinched as if struck.

Sarith's thoughts and emotions roiled towards me like boiling swamp water. His mind felt like a jumbled mess, like a cluttered desk in front of an open window or a worn rope holding too much weight. I shivered at the sensation. These rapport spores were very strange. They did not just let somepony share thoughts like you would speaking. You traded emotions and shared a mindscape, even if it was only the surface level. It was far too intimate for my liking, but it was too late to back out.

"What do you want, surfacer?" Sarith hissed.

I stepped back, ears flattened to my skull, but I pressed forward.

"I… wanted to apologize, Sarith, for getting us into trouble today."

"Bah, the quaggoth should have eviscerated you," he sneered. "It would have been a mercy to both of us."

I frowned and struggled to respond. This level of hostility was alien to me. To my knowledge, no one had ever wished for my death except for a few villains like Tirek or Chrysalis. He was a pony, though. A foreign pony, yes, but still a pony. Sighing, I steeled myself to climb a very steep hill.

"Have I ever done anything to you personally, Sarith?" I tilted my head. "This aggression seems… uncalled for. I understand that you might be mad at me. The guard might have hurt you too after it was finished with me. I was reckless, got distracted, and suffered greatly for it. Trust me, it won't happen again."

"Besides your constant prattling? You are a walking abomination, false goddess," he spat at my hooves. "If Mistress Ilvara and the other priestesses did not want you, I would gut you myself. Maybe that would restore my favor to the Mistress of Nightmares."

"Why would the priestesses want me?" I ignored the taunt and dug deeper. "And what do you mean, a 'false goddess'?"

"So many questions from the babbling filly. I'll indulge you this once because the answer is the same. You defile the image of the Mistress," he gestured to my wings and horn, "and make a mockery of her perfection. Lady Myzzrim said so herself yesterday that they will take you to Menzoberanzan. Your fate will likely be the Altar of Nightmares, where they will cut your throat and offer your blood to Her in a silver bowl.

"Maybe the Mistress will decide to purify your body and take it as an avatar," he continued. "Or the matrons will offer you up to a glabrezu, and your offspring will lead us in a new crusade against the Tyrant Sun!"

"Vermin!" Eldeth snarled and clenched her fist.

At some point, Sarith had started speaking out loud while communicating via the spores, but I almost didn't notice. My gut clenched, and bile rose to my throat. Breathes came out heavy as my body shook with tremors. Sarith's words brought forth all manner of vile imagery to my mind. This "Mistress of Nightmares" was obviously Nightmare Moon, who had turned into a mythical goddess in the centuries after her banishment. Things clicked into place for me, and I saw the dominos of their dogma fall into place over generations.

Princess Celestia symbolized absolute evil in their eyes. She scorned, betrayed, and imprisoned their beloved mother and queen and drove them underground. Ever since they had nurtured that hatred in the darkest depths of the Underdark, they still served the mad cruelty of the Nightmare as she slept.

Then I came stumbling into their isolated world, an alicorn that broke the dichotomy of their reality. I was something that should not be – an abomination. So, they would either use me or dispose of me.

I took a deep breath in through my nose and exhaled out my mouth. Then I met Sarith's eyes again.

"And what about you, Sarith? What is your fate?"

"I suppose I will be right behind you, next in line for the slab," he chuckled humorlessly as the fire left him. "They will flay me alive, drain my blood on the altar, and feed my flesh to the spiders."

"What did you do to be thrown in here? From everything I've seen, the denevér reward cruelty and encourage violence. Why did they turn on you?"

"We are cruel only to our lessers, surfacer, and violence is only rewarded if you aren't caught. I have been accused of murdering one of my comrades in a fit of madness, but it's all a setup to discredit me. It was likely one of my underlings vying for my position or a peer trying to curry favor with our commander. Regardless, I, too, am bound to be offered as a sacrifice to the Mistress, to be made an example of."

"Then, perhaps, we can help each other."

Sarith sneered and scoffed. "How could you possibly help me, and why should I help you?"

"It's simple; we can either die together, or we can help each other get out of here. I certainly have no intention of getting sacrificed. I'm working on a plan to enable us all to escape, but I need your help. You know how the denevér tick, how they work, and where they might keep things. We don't have to like each other, but we can use each other for our own ends."

Sarith did not reply for a long moment. His wings shuffled beneath his bonds, and he clicked his tongue in thought. Finally, he flicked his mane back, and the batpony met my eyes.

"We will be severely punished for trying to escape. We will surely die."

"I have no intention of dying, but it's no worse than our current course. We have nowhere to go but up."

I held out my uninjured hoof, using Eldeth's frame to support my weight, and smiled at Sarith. The denevér stallion eyed the appendage for a moment and smirked.

"I won't stand in your way, surfacer," he replied, "but your path is folly. If you manage to break our bonds, open the door, and put a blade in my hoof, then I may consider cutting my way to freedom and not stab you in the back. Until then, I will wait and see."

Author's Note

Well, Twilight wasn't able to fully convince Sarith to join her cause, but maybe she'll have better luck with the others.

For those who don't know or haven't caught on, I'm treating this story as a D&D campaign with Twilight taking the place of the player character. I've adapted D&D 5e rules to fit the medium, and there are lots of rolls that go on in the background.

Not even I know exactly what will happen.

Chapter 5: Allies

Sarith's rejection was disappointing but expected. Still, at least he wouldn't actively hinder me. That was a start, and I could sway him over to my side in the future. Scholars had known for a long time that ponies were herd creatures. We needed each other to survive, so as long as I could provide a clear path forward, the survival instinct would win out in the end.

I sighed as I limped away from the gloomy thestral. There were other prisoners here that I knew would help me, like Jimjar, Eldeth, Topsy, and Shuushar. Then there was Ront, Turvy, Buppido, and… the quaggoth. Turvy would likely join his sister, and I was confident I could convince Ront. Buppido and the quaggoth were wildcards.

Jimjar and Topsy were small and agile, so I'd need to rely on them for information gathering. Though, with how knowledgable Jimjar was, I wouldn't have been surprised if he knew every inch of this prison and hadn't bothered to mention anything yet, but I'd deal with that eventually. Eldeth was strong and would be handy in a fight if it came down to it, but I couldn't expect her to fight off all the guards on her own.

"Eldeth, bring me to Ront, please," I decided.

"Are you sure? You're not looking so good… Maybe it's best if you lie down for a bit. I could bring him to you, but it isn't a good idea. He's a gryphon, after all."

"No," I shook my head and fought back a wave of nausea. "The fact that he's a gryphon is why I need to go to him. His pride won't let him come to me before I've earned his respect. Gryphons are tough, so he'll be a big help if we need to fight our way out of here."

I did feel the need to lie down, though. The pain in my fetlock sent angry throbs through my leg despite my best efforts to avoid jostling it. However, some things needed doing, and I didn't know when I would get the chance.

Ront lounged like a bobcat atop a large rock. His silhouette shifted as we approached, tail lashing and bound wings ruffling. The gryphon's beak turned away, and I saw his eye glint like flint on steel in the gloom. He rumbled with a deep growl from his chest.

"Vhat you vant, pony?" He huffed in accented Equestrian.

"Hello, Ront," I replied in Griffish. "I just wanted to talk."

"You speak Griffish?" He leaned back, surprised. "Interesting. I've never met pony who bothered to learn."

"I grew up in Canterlot," I explained, "and met few gryphons that either immigrated or were traveling for official business."

"Ah, that's right. Princess. Wings and horn, like Celestia. Smaller though. News travels slow in Gryphon Empire. Did Sun Princess have daughter?"

"Haha, no. Princess Celestia is my mentor, and I studied under her for many years before my ascension."

Ront sat up and stretched out his front legs. He twisted his head from side to side as he inspected me closely. Most ponies would quake under the gaze of a predator, sizing them up like a piece of meat, but I had been around enough gryphons to recognize their body language. This one was simply curious.

"You're tougher than you look. I can smell pain on you. And blood. Most ponies would break like twigs when fighting quaggoth, but you still live. Bruised, but not broken."

"Honestly, it hurts lot. My fetlock is probably broken, or at least it's bad sprain. We bandaged it up best we could, but without painkillers, I'm barely staying on my hooves right now."

"Hard to work with three hooves," Ront nodded. "You hide pain well, though. Well enough from batponies? I don't know."

"How did you get here, Ront?" I slid down next to him. "I don't know how far away we are from Equestria, but I imagine we're much further from your home."

"I fell down stupid hole, that's what," he growled. "I am soldier. My team and I were patrolling trade route when we were attacked by bandits. I was separated and fell into pit. Walls were too narrow to fly out, so I wandered in dark for two days before batponies found me. Cowards put me to sleep with blowdarts, and I woke up in cage."

Eldeth watched us out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't see her face, but her posture made her seem agitated or nervous. Ront continued telling me his story, and though my knowledge of Griffish was rusty, something about his tone piqued my interest. There was a hint of shame there, and I felt like he was leaving something out, but I chose to set that aside for now.

"Say Ront, are you pretty strong?"

"Da," he nodded.

"If you really needed, could you break these manacles? How many guards could you fight?"

He tilted his head and hummed in thought. "If I had time, yes. I did it once, but guards whipped me and didn't give me food for three days. Then they gave me new ones. I could fight one or two bat ponies, or maybe one quaggoth, without weapon, but there are many."

"How about with help?"

"What are you planning, pony?" He leaned closer.

"I don't know precisely what the denevér plan to do with us, but it can't be good. I will get out of here and return to the surface, but I need your help. You're strong, and we might need to fight our way out. I'm working on a plan, but I'm just one pony. Are you in?"

"I have no desire to die here, little pony princess," Ront replied, nodding, "at least not while imprisoned by bat ponies far away from mountains and open sky. You seem to have good heart and strong spirit. Put axe in my claws, and I will follow you until we see sun again."

I released some tension in my shoulders and smiled.

"Thank you, Ront. I won't let you down."

I struggled to my hooves once again and sought out the derro. Pain lanced through my leg as my manacle pinched me, and spots filled my already darkened vision. Bile rose in my throat, and I leaned against a rock to steady myself. I felt Ront's eyes drilling into the back of my head, so I gritted through the agony and fought the wave of nausea before steading myself. Eldeth offered an arm to lean on, but I shook my head.

My pace was slow, one hoof in front of the other, but I followed a low muttering to find the small diamond dog scrawling in the dirt. I hadn't seen him this close yesterday, but Buppido was thin – almost emaciated. His ears twitched at my approach as he went silent and turned to look over his shoulder.

"Ahh, Princess Sparkle," his voice whispered in my mind, and I stepped back. "I knew you would be visiting me."

While Sarith's mind felt sour and turbulent, Buppido's was cold and dark like a deep lake, but his words brushed over me like a warm breeze. He must have been close enough for Stool's rapport spores to affect him, but I never noticed him. It was too dark in here. How many eyes watched me at any given time? Did somepony lurk behind me, dogging my steps, even now?

"Come hither," he said. "Sit. Parley with me, surfacer. I have looked forward to your arrival."

"What do you mean?" I asked as I sat down a dozen hooves away from him. "You knew I was coming here, as in to talk to you?"

"It was only a matter of time. You are the Twilight, the union of night and day, a bridge between sun and moon. I have seen it written in the stones and heard it whispered in the drip drip drip of the water. The denevér are mad, yes, mad in their wickedness and devotion to a goddess that watches them writhe and squeal like rats. It was only a matter of time until the avatar of their folly wandered into their pits. Pits of spiders. Pits of vipers. Pits of gnawing and gnashing and…"

Buppido halted his tirade with a hacking cough. There was a peculiar glint in his eye that vanished like a doused fire. He blinked and met my gaze, and a shiver went down my spine.

"Forgive me, my lady. This imprisonment has not done my temperament any favors. Allow me to start over. My name is Buppido, and I have been hoping for the arrival of one such as you for a long time."

I nodded in return, wary, but I chose to be cordial. "Nice to meet you, Buppido, and I'm Twilight… but I suppose you knew that already. Can you tell me a bit about yourself? I've met diamond dogs before, but I've never seen a derro."

He stood to his full height, which might have been close to my chin if I stood up, and folded himself in a courtly bow. I could picture an imaginary top hat tucked under his elbow or a dapper cane in one paw, and I wondered what kind of life he had before he found his way to this cage.

"We derro are a sorry folk. My ancestors delved too deep into the bowels of the Underdark, lured by riches and dreams of glory, but we found only pain and torment."

"What happened?"

"We did not know at the time, but something lured us. Our love for gold and gems blinded us until it was too late to see the trap. As the tale goes, the first dogs to become the mogorva broke through the rock to find a hive of changelings. They captured and enslaved us, and they twisted our minds as they fed on us for generations.

"It was many years before we broke free. Most became the mogorva, dogs stripped of all creativity and passion after decades of changeling feeding, but some of us… simply broke. Most derro, my kind, are thoroughly mad and twisted by what the changelings did to us. We subsist on the pity of our kin as we wallow in our filth and scream at the phantoms in our minds."

I adjusted my manacle, pushing it off my bandaged fetlock, and pondered what it would have been like to have been enthralled by changelings my entire life. It wasn't something I could comprehend. Cadance told me a few times that Shiny still woke up from the nightmares, even years later, and he had only been under Chrysalis's sway for a couple of weeks. To live my entire life under her thrall and know my grandfoals would do the same… My mind couldn't grasp something that horrific.

"I'm… so sorry that happened to your people. That's awful," I replied, my ears drooping. "I have family that were victims of changelings for a time, but I can't imagine your whole society being subjugated by them for Celestia knows how long."

"We've had our revenge," Buppido spat to the side. "We freed ourselves many generations before my time, but we still hunt the changelings down when we come across them. Most fled deeper into the Underdark, further than even the denevér will tread."

"Back to something you said earlier, though… You said you were waiting for somepony like me. Can you elaborate on that?"

"Yes, yes… It's all according to plan, you see. I have been under the denevér's yoke for over a fortnight now, but they have played into my paws. I knew at some point they would capture someone they could not hold. Their arrogance would be their undoing, and the wrath of the gods would come upon them. Now here you are, just as I predicted. You are the avatar of their folly, a 'false goddess' that makes them foam at the mouth in fury. An alicorn of twilight, the union of day and night, is something they cannot tolerate… or resist. They plan to offer you up to the Nightmare, but they did not account for me. No. Now that you are here, I can return to my work."

I leaned away from him and glanced nervously at Eldeth. She tilted her head at me, and I bit my lip in apprehension. Eldeth hadn't heard any of this conversation, I realized, and telepathy via the rapport spores was entirely selective.

Buppido was unhinged, but besides a streak of egomania, he didn't seem outright dangerous. Still, it was best that I watched what I said around him…

"Then…" I gulped, "Perhaps we can assist each other. I need information about the prison, and I would like your help when we try to escape."

"Of course, of course. Believe me, Princess, you cannot escape without my aid. I hear things. I see things. Nobody minds Buppido, the humble derro that he is. They say I am mad and treat me like any of my other pitiful kin. Seen but not heard, and given the tasks unworthy for even the lowliest of the denevér slaves."

"And what have you heard?" I leaned forward, eyes wide.

"A weak link. Shoor, the task master, is new to his post. He took it from Jorlan, who you will know from the hideous scars on his face and wing. Once he was favored by Ilvara as her lieutenant and lover, but once the wretched stallion was disfigured… she lost interest."

I had yet to see Jorlan, but if what Buppido said was true, I could appeal to him for help. It sounded like there were some precarious power dynamics among the denevér. If there was a chance to exploit them, I'd take it, but it wasn't likely. Communication, or the lack thereof, was still the primary issue. I couldn't understand them, and if I walked up to a guard and tried to strike up a conversation, I'd probably get hit again. Given time, I could quickly learn their language, but not now…

"Thank you, Buppido. I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, keep an ear out and see if you can get a hold of anything that might help us."

"Of course, my lady," he sneered.

I eased myself to three hooves and hobbled to my corner of the cell. Eldeth helped me sit, bid me goodnight, and lumbered a couple of dozen hooves away to her spot on the cavern floor. With my back to the wall, I cradled my injured hoof and seethed silently. I let a few tears wet my cheeks now that I was alone. My fetlock under the bandages felt hot to the touch due to the inflammation, and I struggled to control my breathing.

I learned many things after my ascension. Becoming an alicorn didn't just give me a crown but also three new sources of magic from which I could draw. My pool of unicorn mana was centered at the base of my horn and the frontal cortex of my brain. Pegasus magic flowed in rhythm with my breaths, starting from my lungs and stretching to the tips of my feathers before being sucked back in again. Earth mana, sure as stone, pulsed from my heart and through my entire body.

The fourth mana was nebulous, and not even the Royal Sisters fully understood it. Alicorn magic had no known physical source in the equine body. It wasn't even a mixture of the other three tribes' magic, as many thought, but something more. The power of an alicorn stretched beyond the body and into the metaphysical. It wasn't something I could tap into very often, and it was only in my battle with Tirek that I could sense it due to being overfilled with the Princesses' magic. That source of power slumbered deep inside me, unresponsive and stubborn like a napping manticore.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. The dripping of cave water and the dull roar of the waterfall faded away, and I felt my mana channels pulse with each breath and heartbeat. My perception narrowed, and I focused on synchronizing the mana streams in my body.

Breathe in, thu-thump. Breathe out, thu-thump.

Earth magic pulsed like a drum and felt like a cold balm on my fetlock. It wouldn't heal me completely, but it would at least dull the pain and allow my body to begin healing. This was a trick Applejack taught me after a long day of helping her during Cider Season one year. Earth ponies could dull physical pain and exhaustion with their magic, allowing them to work harder and longer. A stronger heart and body, and thus a deeper well, protected them from injuries. I was a long way from being able to knock a tree down without breaking my hoof, but I could at least do this.

I fell into a deep meditation, and I dreamed.

Author's Note

Twilight be like:

Chapter 6: Derendil

Darkness choked me.

I walked forward and tenderly scraped my hooves across the ground so I wouldn't trip. My wings were stretched out to my sides, and I felt the rocky walls brush against my feathers. I tried lighting my horn, but the magic was snuffed out like a match in a breeze.

Breathing. Something cold touched my neck, and I jolted forward. There was no light, but I felt the shadows churn around me. A wing. An eye. Teeth and claws. I broke into a gallop, but my legs were sluggish.

I pumped my legs with all my might, but I was swimming through mud. My hooves were numb from the chill that gripped my heart. There was something behind me. I needed to get away. Shadows clung to me like chains.

"Help!" I screamed.

My voice warbled with a distorted echo like I was underwater. It resonated through the tunnel as I struggled forward. Then left. Right. I tripped, falling down a shaft and bashing my chin, but I scrambled to my hooves and scurried through the maze like a rat.

The tunnel narrowed, and the rock squeezed against my barrel like a hundred tiny teeth. I gasped, breaths coming in short bursts as the walls and ceiling pressed down on me. Trapped. It was still coming. I needed to get away. Think. No, not think. Run. I had to run.

I pushed through the narrow opening with all my might, screaming in desperation, and I popped loose. There was a tearing sound and something wet flopped at my hooves, but I ignored it and galloped forward. Mushrooms the size of trees towered above me, and motes of light flickered between them like fireflies. I stopped, transfixed by the sight.

What was I doing? There was something important happening. I needed to be somewhere… to be doing something. What was it?

Where was I?

… Who was I?

I stumbled through the mushroom forest's underbrush. A spore cloud drifted past me, and the putrid scent of rotting eggs, cabbage, and fruit caressed my nose. Something pony-shaped tripped me, and I caught myself on the trunk of a fungal tree. I looked back, and wormy eyes stared at me, pleading.

"Sorry, sir… or ma'am?" I rasped. "I'm sorry, but I'm very busy."

I continued my stroll through the woods, marveling at the strange life around me. If only I had a sketchbook to record some of these new species. My mind whirled at the possibilities. A whole volume could be published on my findings alone in this grove. I couldn't wait to show Princess…

Princess… something. I blinked. It was hard to think. What was I doing? Fog clouded my mind, and thoughts drifted away like vapor.

Snap! A twig broke beyond the treeline, and I whirled around. Shapes, dark and shadowy shapes, flowed through the mushrooms toward me, and I remembered. Something was chasing me, and I was running. I spread my wings to take flight and jumped…

And I crashed into the ground. The floor was spongy and smelled of musty mothballs. I looked behind me, and my back was drenched in blood. Two bony stubs twitched where my wings once were, and I gasped in silent horror. Even as I watched, green and yellow fungus sprouted from the wounds and crawled up my back. Mushrooms, dressed in fine gossamer-like filaments, split through the skin and fur where my wings used to be. I flapped, and they moved like wings, but the fungal infection spread with every motion.

I broke into another gallop. Puffs of spores followed my wake, and strange shapes emerged from the forest floor. They were shaped like ponies, but their bodies were covered in pulsating growths and mushrooms that twitched like antennae. The fungal zomponies shambled after me, gasping raspy groans, and my scream came out as a gargled wail.

Mushrooms zipped past me as I scrambled through the forest. Everywhere I turned, more zomponies waited for me. They reached out, begging and pleading or with hateful hunger. I couldn't tell which, but I knew I couldn't let them touch me, or it would all be over.

A chasm yawned before me, and I skidded to a stop. Fungal death was behind me; hungry darkness was before me. The jump wasn't too far—a mere dozen hooves. I could make it.

I sprung forward like a cat, but my hoof slipped at the last moment, and the leap came short. The forest disappeared as I fell into the darkness. Down, down, I fell. A buzz droned in my ears. It was like a horde of flies churned outside of my vision. The blackness swallowed me, and I landed in a heap.

The ground was soft and yielded to my weight. I stood, though getting my hooves underneath me was a challenge. They sunk into the ground with a wet squelch, and a shiver went up my spine as I lit my horn. I saw an endless expanse, no walls or ceiling – just an empty void. Bile rose to my throat as I looked down. The ground was… moving. It undulated and rippled. A sea of maggots writhed beneath my hooves, and it was rising.

I screamed, and my horn burst into lavender flames. The fire spread before me like a maelstrom and burned away the churning tide. My magic cleansed away the rot and decay and lit up the darkness, but something else reached out in turn.

An oily tentacle wrapped around my hoof, and I lashed out with a bolt of lightning. It flexed and crushed my leg with a splintering snap, and the agony snuffed out my magic. Another tentacle curled around my horn, threatening to snap it off, and I sobbed as more of the slimy appendages coiled around me like snakes. They dragged me to the ground, immobilizing me, and I sank further into something that felt like tar.

My hooves disappeared, then my barrel, and I strained my neck to keep my head above whatever was swallowing me. Cold and oily tendrils slithered along my chin and ear as I sobbed.

Princess Celestia… Spike, girls… I'm so sorry.

Greasy tar pooled into my ears and over my eyes. I clenched them shut and coughed as it pooled in my mouth. Then, as I sucked in a last gulp of air through my nostrils, something clicked.

"LUNA! HELP!" I screamed.

A deep pool of magic exploded within me. It was icy, like a mountain spring, but I did not feel cold. The magic washed over me like an autumn breeze or a bucket of water after a hot day. Tar evaporated from my lungs, and the tentacles turned to ash around me as the dream–the nightmare–fell apart.

I sat alone in a cavern. A small fire blazed in front of me that kept away the darkness. I still felt something lurking beyond the light, hiding in the tunnel, but it seemed content to prowl outside the reach of my campfire. There was an angry buzzing in the distance like a swarm of insects, and the stench of decay licked at my nose.

"Princess Luna?" I called out, but there was no answer.

I strained my neck to look up, and high above me was a hole in the ceiling that exposed the night sky. A twinkle of starlight peeked out from behind the rock, but directly overhead was a crescent moon shrouded by clouds.

I took a moment to examine myself. My hoof and leg were undamaged, and my wings were free and intact behind me. Sighing in relief, I scooted closer to the fire and pulled a blanket tighter over my body. The nightmare was banished, but I was still dreaming. Where was Luna?

The magic surge I felt seemed like hers, but it had originated from myself. It had always washed over the dreamscape like a tidal wave or a gale, but this time, it exploded outward from within me. Somehow, I had tapped into Princess Luna's dream magic. Now that I knew what to look for, I closed my eyes and felt the distant tether to the cosmic forces I had once shared with her.

When Celestia, Luna, and Cadance gave me their magic before my battle with Tirek, the power also came with a tenuous connection to the forces they were bonded with. The power of the sun and moon rested on my horn, including authority over dreams. I had thought that connection severed when I lost the magic, but perhaps it was still there, just lying dormant. My alicorn magic roiled within me, but I felt it returning to its placid state as I grew calmer.

This wasn't something I could do very often, but I was glad that it was an option available to me. If I could get my horn free, I could draw on a sliver of energy from the sun or moon. I wasn't sure what to do with it when I had it, but I knew I could think of something when the time came.

I settled down in front of the fire and thought. The shadows writhed and churned at the edge of my vision, and the strange sounds continued for the rest of the night.

I awoke in the cell. The first thing I noticed was the deep soreness that permeated my body, but the second was that the stabbing pain in my fetlock had faded to a dull ache. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by the same darkness, illuminated by a single dim lantern, that had been my companion for the last three days.

Three days of consciousness with Celestia knew how many days prior in a drug-induced coma. Three days of seeing neither the sun nor my friends. Approximately one hour from now, the guards will bring us our daily ration of cold mushroom broth, which would barely fill me under normal circumstances. Then came the work – work designed to tire and humiliate us.

I took a shaky breath, wiped away a tear, and wondered what tasks they would give me today. Hopefully, I could explore more of the compound. If I was going to escape, I needed to gain a better lay of the land. We needed supplies, food, water, and something to carry it in, but most importantly, I needed a way to remove this horn ring. Access to my magic was a game changer. After that, I needed my saddlebags. They had my spellbook and my copy of Dawnfinder's Promptuary of the Dark. Hopefully, the thestrals had kept them…

I set the thought aside and stretched out my hooves. A twinge of pain shot up my injured leg, and I winced. It wasn't debilitating, but my fetlock was still tender. I needed to be careful walking on it for the next couple of days, though I had expected it to hurt a lot more than it did. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought?

Claws scraped against stone, and something moved to my right. I whipped my head around and saw a large shape sitting beside me. The creature was nearly twice my height, even in a sitting position. Long arms, ending in clawed hands, rested lazily on its knees. Manacles and chains, similar to my own, hung from its wrists and clinked as the creature shifted. An ursine head tilted to look at me, and as I saw the lantern light blazing in one of its vast, dark pupils, I knew the darkness held no hindrance to it.

The creature, the quaggoth, rose to its feet. Chains clattered as it moved, and its head brushed the ceiling. I trembled as I found myself standing, ready to bolt, but my legs didn't obey me. Frozen in fear, my heart pounding, I stared at the creature. How long had it been there, watching me? How did it sneak up so close?

It moved, and I flinched away, ready for a blow, but it never came. I opened my eyes, blinked, and stared. The quaggoth had dropped to both knees and prostrated on the ground before me with its forehead in the dirt. A long moment passed, and the creature climbed into a crouching position.

Something moved behind the quaggoth, and I blinked as Stool's diminutive frame shuffled from behind him. The myconid sprout stepped between us, spraying a cloud of rapport spores that tickled my nose and made my head buzz, before saddling up beside me.

"Sorry, Twilight." Stool hung his stalk. "He just kind of picked me up and carried me over here. I think he wanted to talk to you."

I shifted my gaze from Sprout to the quaggoth. It sat there silently and watched me with an eerie calmness. My throat clenched, and I steeled myself with a slow breath before meeting the creature's eyes.

"Who are you?"

"I am Prince Derendil, Your Highness," the quaggoth replied. His mind felt strange as it brushed against my consciousness. It felt like a calm meadow, but the silence that filled it was the hush before a stampede or a thunderstorm. "I regret coming before you in this crude form, but I humbly beseech thee for aid. You see, I hail from the Kingdom of Nelrindenvane, and I was afflicted by a terrible curse that has stolen both my body and my home."

I frowned and tilted my head in confusion. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I've ever heard of this 'Nelrindenvane.' It sounds deerish, though. Can you elaborate on this curse?"

"Wise indeed, Your Highness," Derendil nodded. "It is, in fact, deerish. I was once the crowned prince of Nelrindenvane in the High Forest, a distant land from Equestria. I was, in fact, a deer, but my crown was usurped by an evil wizard who cursed me into the monstrous form you see before you now. He exiled me, and in my wanderings I was enslaved to these denevér."

The quaggoth, this Prince Derendil, slumped dejectedly and covered his face with his giant paws. This was the first I had heard of this Nelrindenvane or the High Forest, but Equis was a massive place, and ponies knew aggravatingly little of things beyond Equestria. I wasn't an expert in quaggoth body language, or of deer, for that matter. The Everfree deer rarely left their forest, and I had only interacted with them once. However, I couldn't sense any lie from the deer-turned-quaggoth.

I lifted a hoof, hesitated, and patted Derendil's leg.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, but what do you need me for?"

Derendil wiped a tear from his eye, sniffed, and sat straight.

"Ponies are well known for their magical abilities. I would petition you for your aid in removing this curse. I, and my kingdom, would forever be indebted to you, Your Highness."

[Twilight makes an Arcana check: 18+9=27]

"Well…" I paused and thought. "It would depend on the nature of your curse. There are multiple ways to transform somepony, or somedeer in this case, into something else, though it's rarely permanent. Your soul remembers who you are and what your body looks like, and it will generally fight against transmutation magic like that. Permanent transmutation is very powerful magic and is very rare, and breaking a spell like that is out of my power… at least, here and now."

"What must be done?!" Derendil almost shouted his thoughts as he brought himself to my eye level. There was a desperate eagerness in those wide pupils. I leaned away from his overwhelming presence, ears splayed back.

"W-well, right now I don't have access to the kind of magic to break that kind of transmutation, but I know where I can find it. The other Princesses would know how to do it, I'm sure, or one of the Master Arcanists at the Tower of Magic in Canterlot."

"So we must…?"

"Yes. I would need to take you to Equestria and have you looked at."

"Which means," he leaned back and clenched his jaw. I heard a low growl and grinding teeth that set my fur prickling. "We must escape from this prison, and I must endure this wretched form for a while longer until I see the sun-kissed land of Equestria. Very well, then I propose an alliance between your House and mine, Your Highness. Swear to me that you will break my curse, and I shall be your sword and shield in this cursed land."

I blinked, surprised, and chewed on the offer. Fortune or Harmony smiled on me today, but I was wary. Derendil was trapped in an alien body that possessed very aggressive instincts if my experience with quaggoths had been indicative of the species so far. I knew that violence was most likely inevitable to escape this place, but I was loathe to resort to bloodshed. The denevér might have been misguided or evil, but they were still ponies. They were still living, breathing creatures.

However, I was just one mare surrounded by enemies in a strange land. Though I hated the idea and didn't want to dwell on it, I might be forced to make some hard decisions to get home. No, I decided. It wouldn't come to that. I needed friends and allies, but I needed to keep my hooves unstained.

"I will do what I can, but I ask that you avoid killing anypony when we try to escape."

"That will be difficult," Derendil tilted his head, "and if any creature deserved death it would be these foul denevér."

"They're still ponies!" I stomped my good hoof. "If we are to work together, there won't be any killing."

"We might not be able to help it," he growled.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but it's my job as a Princess - as an alicorn - to look after all ponykind, and that includes these misguided thestrals. I won't come back to Equestria a murderer!"

"Fine! I will do my best to avoid killing any of these vermin, but I will do what I must to survive if we're cornered."

"I suppose that's all I can ask." I sighed. "Very well. I, Princess Twilight Sparkle, promise to help you break your curse in exchange for you help escaping the Underdark; cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my ey-Owe!"

I rubbed my eye and cursed my lack of depth perception as Derendil tilted his head inquisitively at the ritual. I was sure I'd see a raised eyebrow if there was more light.

"It's a custom from my home in Ponyville," I explained, "called a Pinkie Promise. No one breaks a Pinkie Promise lightily."

Derendil nodded solemnly and repeated the motions. We ended the ritual with a hoofbump, or rather his fist against my hoof, and I smiled at my new unlikely friend. The moment was spoiled by a knocking at our cell door. Breakfast had come a bit early today, it seemed, or I had slept longer than I thought.

We shuffled our way towards the line by the door, and I did it with a new life in my step. I had the beginnings of a plan in my mind and new friends to help me accomplish it. If nothing unexpected happened, we'd be out of this Tartarus hole.

Author's Note

I got flex that Horror tag a bit in this chapter, but Twilight now has a new and unlikely ally. Remember to upvote and leave a comment below!

Chapter 7: Contraband

Author's Note

My work schedule changed to some more reasonable hours (back to 40 hours a week, yay!) so I've got the time to do some writing again.

Here's a chapter, and I've got another one loaded that I'll publish next week. I also did some small edits in existing chapters, so you might see some shenanigans in your feed.

Chapter 7: Contraband

One week later…

My stomach clenched as I gripped the broom in my mouth. The wood was coarse and fibrous against my tongue, and I was careful not to bite too hard lest I get a splinter in my gums. My belly growled with a low rumble that broke the silence of the barracks. Shuushar, the kuo-toa, stood on the opposite end of the room with his own broom. He tilted his head and gargled in a sympathetic tone. I sighed and continued my route.

Six hammocks hung from this chamber–three on each side–and one was occupied. A denevér guard swung lazily from his perch, and though I couldn't tell if his eyes were open, I saw his ear occasionally twitch. Each hammock had a small wooden chest and a side table beside it for what I assumed were personal effects. Metallic hooks were set in the wall. A coil of rope here, a cloak there, and one lit lantern bathed the room in the dim glow of phosphorescent fungi.

I limped forward and swept underneath one of the unoccupied hammocks. My fetlock was still sore, but it was hard to tell whether it was from the lingering injury or the deep weariness that had settled into my bones. The tremble in my legs had faded into the background, but if I took a moment to consider it, all I would think about was the gnawing hunger in my abdomen and the overwhelming exhaustion.

I scanned the floor and frowned. Hadn't I swept this spot already? Where was my dirt pile? Ah, there it was. I screwed my eyes shut and willed the mental fog away. It was difficult to concentrate, but I had to stay alert. Old and new bruises were well hidden in the dark beneath my purple coat, a testament to my periodic lapse in attention.

My hoof bumped against something, and there was a clatter as the thing rolled behind the hammock. I frowned and squinted at the ground. The object was long and cylindrical, about nine hooves across, and felt stiff and cold against my frog. Leaning down, I gave it an experimental sniff. Metallic, probably iron.

I glanced up at the resting guard. He hadn't moved from his perch or given any outward sign of scrutiny, but I bit my lip apprehensively. This was something we could use. A long iron rod could open a door, wedge something shut, or—Celestia forbid—make a decent improvised weapon. If I gave it to Ront or Derendil, they would have options beyond using their claws, which could seriously injure somepony. The tricky part was hiding it.

My wings were still bound. A piece of canvas or leather secured by straps and chains kept me from moving my wings beyond some light fidgeting. The first few days were torture of itchy feathers and cramping muscles, but the discomfort faded into the background amidst all the other indignities. Muscular atrophy and infection were a serious danger, but that was a problem for later.

The bar might be able to slide underneath the binds so I could hide it under my wing, but that was a tight fit. Shoving a piece of metal down my side wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and I had to assume the guard was more alert than he looked. Could Shuushar help me? No, that was even more suspicious. He could cause a distraction, but I wasn't sure how to relay that to him. I was picking up Undercommon quickly, but not enough to be subtle.

I had to risk doing it myself.

After glancing at the guard again, I grabbed the iron rod with my mouth. I grimaced at the rusty metallic tanginess and wondered if Ilvara would bother treating me if I caught tetanus. Shoving the thought aside, I kept my ears angled behind me and maneuvered the rod so one end was braced against the bottom of the wall and the other near the fold of my wing.

I flexed my wing as far as possible, biting my lip to ignore the rising cramp in the underused limb, and gently slid the rod tip underneath the feathers. My legs ached as I held my body in an awkward half-kneeling position to push it in at the right angle. The rod scraped my fur and poked my ribs, and I fought to keep my breathing level.

Several agonizing moments passed as I hid the rod under my wing. Any moment, I expected the guard to stir from his perch, snatch the rod, and then beat me into unconsciousness with it. The hardest part was getting it around my barrel, and the sharpened tip, combined with my starvation, gave me the mournful mental image of my matted fur and torn skin stretched tight over a too-thin frame. I wasn't sure how long it took for the outward physical symptoms of malnourishment to show, but I clung to the bitter irony that the denevér starving me allowed for just enough wiggle room in my restraints to hide this valuable tool.

I glanced at the guard. He hadn't moved, and I afforded myself the luxury of a sigh. Turning back to Shuushar, who watched me closely, I kept my right side facing away from the guard lest he notice the metal sticking out from under my wing.

"Done?" I whispered in Undercommon.

Shuushar nodded and held up a small piece of wood that he used as a dustpan. He tilted his head and glanced at my side before he smiled and patted me on the shoulder. I cleaned up my dirt pile and stepped out of the room. Shuushar stood on my right flank for me to lean on while I walked with an exaggerated limp.

We returned to the cell a minute later, and the door slammed shut behind us. The guards jeered at us as they left, and I thanked Celestia that I still hadn't learned enough of the language to tell what they were saying. Their tone alone made my skin crawl.

Shuushar and I found the other prisoners huddled near the back of the chamber. Everyone except Sarith had come, and I saw him lounging near the entrance. He was either acting as a lookout or trying to maintain distance from us. I had hoped he had warmed up to helping us escape during the last week, but he remained stubborn and belligerent. Sarith retained this air of smug and hostile indifference whenever I spoke with him.

I shook my head and cleared my thoughts as I heard the tell-tale sound of Stool expelling his spores.

"Okay, what did we find?" I asked as I pulled the iron rod from under my wing.

"Could have been better," Jimjar replied and gestured at the pile of stuff in the center of the huddle. "Could have been worse. Eldeth, Buppido, and I swiped a few gemstones. They won't be immediately helpful, but we can sell them and buy supplies at the first place we find when we get out of here."

"I guess it's too much to hope that we could bribe the guards with them," I frowned.

"Hah!" Eldeth scoffed. "They'll just take the gems, search you for anything else, and then beat you for the trouble."

Shuushar placed a single gold coin in the pile with a satisfied gurgle.

"Okay…" I sighed. "It's a start. At least we'll have something to trade with once we get to relative safety. What else do we have?"

"My brother and I," Topsy perked up, crossing her hooves proudly, "found a some pieces of flint a couple of days ago. We've been chipping at them in our spare time. They should be able to cut a rope easily, or even a guard in a pinch."

"Da. Better than nothing," Ront nodded. "Speaking of such, I and mushroom cub find bits of leftover rope. Not much, maybe one wing-span, or how you say… Thirty hooves?"

"I'm sure we'll find a use for it," I nodded. "You can probably use this iron rod I found, Ront, or maybe you Derendil. Did we find anything else?"

The deer-turned-quaggoth scratched his chin and hummed thoughtfully. Then, reaching behind his back, he pulled out a dark shape that filled his palm. I squinted, leaned forward to look, and bit down a scream as the shape moved.

"I appear to have bonded with one of the local fauna, Your Highness," Derendil growled. "I stumbled upon this beast while performing my labors and attempted one of the old deerish rites, and behold! At first I wasn't sure if it was going to work and… I'm unsure how well it will help, but I have heard friendship and bonding with 'critters' are both things well-respected in the pony lands!"

Once my panic had settled, I leaned closer to see what Derendil had acquired. A large spider, about the size of a tarantula, crawled across the quaggoth's hand. He turned his wrist and passed it from one hand to another to keep it right-side-up. It turned its eyes—so many eyes—towards me, and I shivered.

"Okay," I gulped. "Duly noted. It's not a lot, but these are all things we can work with. We might be able to grab some other things on our way out, too. What about information? Over the last week I've identified nineteen thestrals here. That includes our host, Ilvara, and her enforcers Shoor and Jorlan. There's also another priestess I've seen with her sometimes. I think her name is Asha? They also have a dozen quaggoths and several giant spiders, most of which are kept below. These… aren't great odds."

"Three of those bats keep an eye on us from the guard tower across the bridge," Topsy nodded. "You can see them from the gate and I've been keeping track of their rotations. There's always at least one, even during shift changes."

"Poor Buppido has watched the denevér officers," the derro sneered. "As I've told Her Highness, the one called Jorlan suffered a horrible injury. Disfigured. Scarred. Shamed. Shoor holds his position now, both among the soldiers… and in Ilvara's bed. The boy is young and arrogant. But… I've seen Asha lurking in Jorlan's shadow. Whispering venoms in his ear, no doubt. Fanning hate and envy."

"Did Jorlan not carry a wand once?" Derendil tilted his head and looked at the derro. "It unleashed these globs of sticky green substance that could bind and trap someone. Now I have seen Shoor carrying it."

"It could be a badge of office, and that would confirm the pack's new pecking order." Eldeth grunted.

"It sounds like there's a lot of internal conflict and politics going on," I rubbed my chin. "If we had the time and I understood the language better, we could exploit that. Did you find anything out on that front, Jimjar?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. I was eavesdropping on some guards that were gossiping yesterday, and it might be a matter of days or tendays before a contingent from Menzoberranzan arrives to take us all back to the city."

"So, as I thought, we're on a deadline," I grimaced.

"That's not all… Some of them were complaining of shortages. Little things. Comforts. That contingent should've been here already, from the sounds of it. It would've brought supplies here and us back, but it's a few days overdue. Good for us, but it is… concerning."

After that, we all stood in silence, and I pondered the implications. It meant we had time, but how long? Was something going on outside these walls? It might have been anything, from war to a monster attack or the caravan getting lost. Regardless, this meant we had to act quickly. They could arrive any day.

"Okay, everyone. The odds are aren't great, but I've gotten out of worse scrapes before. We just have to work together and we'll be able to pull through. Here's the plan…"

Chapter 8: Asha

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 9: Jorlan's Gambit

"If I could give you a means to escape from here, would you take it?" He muttered.

The question stopped me cold as I reached to grab the bowl through the cell door. I looked up and met Jorlan's deformed face and one functional eye. His other eye—the right one—was pale and milky, and the horrendous scarring covered much of what I saw on that side of his body. Half of Jorlan's right wing was missing and cut off after the second digit, and small holes littered the remaining part of the membrane.

His left side told me that this stallion was once very handsome with a chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones, but the other half of his face… It looked melted. I had dabbled with using concentrated acids for delicate experiments while in school, and the professors always showed us photos of what could happen if we did not follow proper safety protocols. The hoof holding the bowl, an empty bowl I had now noticed, had part of its keratin missing. It was more burns or maybe a partial amputation that hadn't grown back in yet; I wasn't sure.

Jorlan was also an older stallion, perhaps my father's age, but the injuries made it hard to tell. His singular eye locked me in his gaze as his lips peeled back in a contemptuous snarl, and the glint of fangs knocked me out of my shock.

"What…" I almost shouted but lowered my voice to a whisper. "What did you say?"

"Hülye felszínlakó," he growled and spoke in a heavily accented Equestrian. "If I could give you a means to escape from here, would you take it?"

I frowned and eyed him suspiciously. From what I'd gathered, Jorlan was one of the higher-ranked lieutenants of the outpost, and he was once second-in-command directly beneath Ilvara. Buppido said he had lost his position to Shoor after some awful accident. Based on the injuries I could see, he would have been medically retired if he were in the Royal Guard, yet here he was, delivering food to prisoners.

Why would he help me? Jealousy and revenge were likely motives if he was trying to discredit his replacement. The blame would likely fall on the inexperienced officer preemptively given command if we escaped. Then again, this might be a trap or a ploy to provide us with false hope. These denever were cruel for the sake of cruelty, and that kind of irrationality was challenging to plan around.

Then again, an inside agent was invaluable. We only knew and could only do so much from our limited observation. And… what else did I have to lose? I and the rest of the prisoners were dead anyway if we didn't escape. That is, if they didn't have some other horrible fate in store for us when we reached their capital.

"... Yes," I finally answered. "But why would you help us?"

"I merely wish to create an embarrassing incident for Mistress Ilvara and Lieutenant Shoor," he said quickly and quietly, confirming my theory. "I can leave the gate to the slave pen unlocked and create a distraction during the shift change. That will give you a few minutes.

"Your best bet will be to jump to the webs below and then into the pool beneath," he explained, glancing furtively to the side. "After that, you can swim to shore and make your way out of the cavern from there. There are three passages you can choose from: north, south, and east."

I nodded and took careful mental notes. "Right. Jump, webs, pool, shore, passages. What about supplies?"

"There is an armory in the guard tower right across from us. As for your belongings, you've already figured that out, yes?"

He sneered, and I paled. Somehow, Jorlan knew we had gone into the chambers beneath the shrine. Yet, he hadn't said anything. Otherwise, there would've been severe consequences besides a few of us missing a meal. I gulped, and the twinkle in his eyes told me he knew that I knew that he knew.

I nodded and changed the subject. "Do you know how close we are to the surface? How do I get back to Equestria?"

"I have no idea," he laughed. "And neither would I be inclined to tell you if I did. Neither your survival nor success mean anything to me. This is all I can do. Do we have a deal?"

I clenched my teeth and swallowed a growl. For a moment, I forgot that Jorlan was still an enemy. It's that, for this instance, our goals aligned, and we were able to use each other. Still…

He wasn't hiding his contempt from me. Jorlan likely wouldn't bat an eye if any of us died trying to escape, but neither was he being actively malicious. There were likely things he wasn't telling me. I was already grasping at straws, though.

I wanted to discuss this with the others, but I needed to decide here and now. They were counting on my leadership, whether I liked it or not, and I doubt I'd get another opportunity like this again.

"Okay," I said and took the empty bowl.

Jorlan nodded, and I stepped away, allowing the next person in line to get their food. I hobbled to a back corner of the chamber and found Jimjar sipping from his bowl. After I told him about my encounter with Jorlan, he sat silently for several minutes. In the meantime, Shuushar approached me and offered half of his mushroom broth. I declined initially, but I relented after he insisted and the gnawing in my belly reminded me of my hunger.

I needed my strength if we were going to escape soon.

"It's a dangerous gambit," Jimjar said.

"Do you think we can trust him?"

"No, but I think we can trust him to help himself. The fact it seems he didn't rat us out is promising, too."

"How do you think he found out?"

"I'm guessing either Asha or one of those three guards let it slip that they found you in the shrine, and I suppose Jorlan made an… educated guess."

"Buppido said the other day that he saw Jorlan and Asha together a lot. Maybe he found out from her and put the pieces together from that. If so, then he's very clever. Why isn't he still in charge despite his injuries? He would be much more effective in an administrative role."

"The matrons are fickle creatures," Jimjar scoffed, "and their favor is as arbitrary as their goddess. Denevér also value strength, and a denevér stallion who can't fight is barely worth the air he's breathing. I'm sure he's still dangerous, otherwise they would have quietly retired him, but that danger is born out of decades of experience."

"That's so stupid, though!"

"Yes, it is, but right now it is good for us. This has created a wedge that we can exploit."

"Alright," I rubbed my forehead. "We should get everypony together and figure out a plan."

It didn't take long to get everypony into a huddle. Even Sarith begrudgingly joined us, though I suspected it was more out of curiosity and a desire to stay in the loop than actually to help. A generous spray of Stool's spores later, and I retold my encounter with Jorlan to everypony present.

"We shouldn't trust him," Eldeth growled. "He's a bat and probably setting us up."

"I'm not saying that we should trust him," I replied. "But we can still use him. That's why we're here to come up with a plan."

"He mentioned armory, yes?" Ront bobbed his head. "We will need armor and weapons. Journey home will be very dangerous. Though… Not sure if any mail will fit me."

"Don't forget food," Shuushar's thoughts gurgled. His mind felt twisty yet serene, like a gentle snaking river. "We can forage some along the way, but there are many mouths to feed."

"Supplies will be important," I nodded. "Okay… Ront, since you mentioned it, I want you to make your way to the armory. Use your best judgment and try to get something for everypony, and take two others with you to carry everything. That's our first team. The second will hit the main hall and grab as much food as possible. Can you handle that, Shuushar?"

Ront and the kuo-toa nodded, the latter giving an enthusiastic gurgle.

"Great, take two others with you for that. Our last group will hit the big tower so we can get the chest in the lower chamber. It has things I need in there that will help us survive when we leave. I'll take Derendil, Jimjar, and Stool with me. Once we have everything we need, let's meet back up near the bridge leading to the big tower."

"I can always hear skittering when we cross those bridges," Topolya shivered. "The webs down there is probably where they keep all of their giant pet spiders. We'll need to deal with those."

"Right," I nodded. "It'll probably be a good idea to send one or two of our heavy hitters down there first and make sure the spiders don't bother us. Hopefully, since there'll be so many of us, the spiders will stay away. Our next order of business are our restraints."

"I've been thinking about that," Jimjar hummed. "It shouldn't be impossible to either slip out or break the manacles, at least if we partner up. Tomorrow, once we wake up and are rested, we should try to remove the restraints from the diamond dog, gryphon, and quaggoth. Then our more nimble members like myself and the twins here."

"I like it. Then we can distribute some of the things we scavenged. Now… For a more difficult question. Once we're free, where do we go? I'm afraid that I'll be useless at navigating this place. I need to get back to the surface along with Ront and Derendil, but I think the rest of you live down here, right?"

"I'm not familiar with this part of the Underdark either," Eldeth sighed. "My home is far to the west, but I'm sure there are other places that are closer. We should find the nearest non-denevér town so we can rest and resupply."

"My lady…" Buppido hissed. "We should journey to Gracklstugh, the home of my people. I can guide us there from the southern path. It is a wonderous city, well defended, with markets for buying and beds for resting. The denevér do not dare assail us there, so we would be safe."

"I'm not too keen being in a city full of derro and dour folk," Eldeth grimaced. "There's bad blood between mine and theirs."

"If we go north…" Jimjar hummed. "I could guide us to Blidgenstone. It is far, about a month's time, but you'll be able to find someone there that knows a way to the surface."

Topsy turned to her brother Turvy out of the corner of my eye, and a silent conversation passed between them. Their ears flattened at the mention of their home. That was something to unravel later but now wasn't the time. Stool suddenly shifted in my lap.

"I don't really know where to go… or really know anything about where we are, but I really want to go home. If you bring me back to Neverlight Grove, my people will be really grateful and give you help! Sovereign Phylo is very smart, just like you Twilight! He'll know what to do to help you get home, too."

"I know you want to go home, Stool," I replied, hugging the little mushroom creature. "But I don't know how to get there, and I'm not sure anypony here does either."

"That is not entirely accurate," Sarith interrupted.

I tried to hide my surprise at him speaking, but he must have seen it on my face if the mirthful glint in his eyes was any sign. He brushed some of his silver mane away from his face. The denevér stallion shifted his gaze across the group and huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"Is it such a surprise? I am denevér. I could guide us to almost any place in the Underdark, including this foal's grove, and I favor accepting his people's offer of hospitality."

"Why?" Topsy glared. "I would think you'd want to go back to some denevér colony. Why would you want to go hang out with a bunch of mushrooms? Also, how would we know you won't just lead us into an ambush to get us captured again?!"

"Why…" Sarith rolled his eyes. "It's almost as if I am destined for the sacrificial knife as much as you are. Is it so surprising that I'd want to get as far away from my kin as possible? The myconids do not care for politics outside of their groves and would see me as nothing different from the feathered simpleton over there. They prefer to keep to themselves. A decent retirement, I think."

"Sloobludop is close," Shuushar gurgled.

"What was that, Shuushar?" I turned from Sarith and Topsy glaring daggers at each other.

"Sloobludop, my village, is close. Less than a ten-day away, I think? I can guide us there when we get close to the Darklake. They are savages, unenlightened but teachable. You are welcome to stay in my home as long as you need."

[Twilight makes a History check with disadvantage. She rolls 17 + 9, for a total of 26!]

From what I'd read, the Darklake was less of a lake and more of a massive system of underground rivers and water basins that covered hundreds of square miles. It was home to many animal and sapient species, but it was perilous to navigate if you weren't familiar with it. There were many stories of pony adventurers getting lost in its countless twists and turns, drowning in its depths, or being eaten by some monster swimming just beneath the surface.

It didn't surprise me that an aquatic species like Shuushar's probably lived on its banks or that he could navigate it. I wondered if he grew up swimming or sailing on those dangerous rivers in the same way some old frontier ponies lived on the edge of the unexplored wilderness their whole lives and knew it like the backs of their hooves.

"I'm not in too much of a hurry," Jimjar said as he flicked a coin with his hoof and caught it. "I wouldn't mind playing the role of a tourist for a bit while we get some of these other fine people home."

"I can find Gracklstugh from the Darklake if need be," Buppido nodded. "Stopping by the fish village for respite would have merit before moving on."

"I agree," I sighed. "While a lot of the other suggestions have merit, it sounds like… ahem… Sloo-bloo-dop is the closest and would make a great spot for us to get our bearings. I think we should go there first, and then we'll figure out the plan from there. All in favor?"

There was some grumbling, but almost everypony else agreed with my reasoning.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully and with just as much back-breaking and humiliating work as every day before, but there was a new energy in my step as I labored beneath the watchful eyes of the denevér. I lay in my spot as my eyes drooped closed, and I was comforted that we would be free by that time tomorrow.

I might not have been so optimistic if I knew what awaited us in the dark.

Chapter 10: A Flight of Demons, Part I

I flinched awake and found somepony touching my shoulder. Fear lit my brain into full alertness, and I almost threw a kick, but I recognized the large shadow as Eldeth's sturdy frame. She hunched over me with a paw on my shoulder and backed away at my sudden movement.

"Sorry, Princess," she whispered. "But it's time to wake up. The shift change should be in an hour, and we need to get ready."

I nodded and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Looking over, I saw Ront and Derendil's hulking silhouettes standing before each other. Derendil pushed his hands as far apart as possible while Ront gripped the chain between the manacles.

The short chain snapped with a grunt of effort, and the manacles clattered to the ground. Everypony froze at the noise, and after a long moment of tense silence, we sighed in relief. There was no angry shouting, cries of alarm, or harsh beatings punctuated by seething words.

Ront twisted his wrists back and forth, flexing the chain and getting a feel for its construction. I had seen him do this a dozen times in what I thought was a nervous habit, but this time, he seemed to get the links to lock up just right… Snap! Another set was gone.

Jimjar helped Eldeth with her manacles on my left. She twisted her paws and digits with a dexterity that surprised me, and with Jimjar whispering a word of guidance here and there on where to apply leverage—or to not bend her finger that way lest it break, Eldeth's paws slipped free.

[Jimjar makes a Dexterity check with the Help action. He rolls 7 + 3, for a total of 10. Failure!]

Jimjar also attempted to slip free, but no matter what angle he pushed and pulled at, the manacles refused to get past his hooves. Perhaps it was his particular set of manacles, but I supposed it was also a downside of pony anatomy. Our extremities weren't as flexible as those of someone with paws or hands.

One by one, everypony—everyone, rather—tried to either slip or break free of their restraints. Sarith and Turvy managed to squeeze out of their manacles, but everyone else still struggled. Topsy grunted and franticly twisted while Turvy offered soft words of encouragement, and Ront held Stool upside down in an attempt to shake him out of the little chains that tied his legs together. Shuushar pushed and pulled at his chains with no luck, and Buppido hissed and growled expletives under his breath as he flailed fruitlessly.

I looked at my iron manacles. The metal had worn the fur on my fetlocks down to the skin and left blisters that bled and burned for the first few days. They had blended into the background with all my other aches and pains, but I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. There wasn't a smell, and I didn't feel feverish, so I didn't have an infection. Did the blisters scar? Would I carry the marks of this hardship for years or decades to come?

I shuddered to think what I looked like after over a week in this Tartarus-forsaken pit. No doubt, I resembled some kind of wild pony with my unwashed mane and battered body, and I could already hear the whispers that would circulate around me when I got home. What would they think of me? Pity? Disgust? What kind of princess gets herself captured?

Did they think I was already dead? What if they'd already called off the search?! No, no, the girls wouldn't give up that easily, and once Shining Armor found out, he'd send an entire army down here if that's what it took. Princesses Celestia and Luna also wouldn't lose hope.

Only, I wasn't sure if they'd be able to find me down here to begin with. There were countless monsters and hazards down here that would give even Daring Do pause, and there were only a hoof-full of ponies in all of Equestria that had any extensive knowledge of the Underdark. Dawnfinder immediately came to mind, who literally wrote the book on it—the book that sat in my saddlebags locked in a chest barely a stone's throw away.

"Twee-lyat," Topsy's voice broke me from my thoughts. I looked up and found her shadow. Her ears twitched in the dull green light, and she reached out and grabbed my hoof.

"Okay?" She asked in Undercommon, which was one of the few words I had learned.

"Igen," I nodded. "Just… thinking."

"Hadd segítsek," she replied before taking both of my hooves in hers.

I pushed and pulled but knew brute force wouldn't help me. With Topsy holding the manacle in place, I rocked my fetlock back and forth and pulled back. It was slow-going as the metal tore my skin and left a warm wetness that was undoubtedly blood. Finally, after several minutes of agony interspersed with several breaks to catch my breath, the manacle popped free.

I choked back a sob of relief, and Topsy vibrated with excitement. She rubbed my neck encouragingly, and I rested my head on her much-smaller shoulder. Another few minutes passed as I recovered. At last, it was time for the second one. Several deep breaths later, we started the process over again.

The second manacle clattered on the floor, and I blinked away my tears.

I was free.

Looking around, I saw everyone who had failed to remove their shackles lying exhausted on the ground. Jimjar mumbled as he fiddled with the manacle and tried to find a weak spot. Somehow, Buppido had gotten his hind leg pinned against his body and tangled up in his chain.

Topsy looked at her restraints and sighed, and I hugged her tightly.

"Thank you, Topolya. I'd love to help you get those off, but I don't think we have much more time."

And, as if the universe had mocked my words, a horrible sound rumbled from outside the door. It was an awful screeching that raked at my inner ears like the sound of a wailing mare who had screamed herself raw. Then the droning started, a low buzz like the hum of electricity.

The droning of insects.

"Something's happening!" Eldeth shouted and ran to the door.

I followed, almost tripping over my numb hooves, and pressed my muzzle through the bars. Shouts of alarm and screams of terror filled the outpost, but I couldn't see anything past the pitch-blackness beyond the door. The terrible buzzing almost drowned out the constant roar of the waterfall, and then the smell hit me.

It was like the odor of rotten eggs—decay, death, disease. Every instinct in my body told me to flee, but there was nowhere to run. The image, a memory of a floor covered in writhing maggots, flashed through my mind. Some kind of itch behind my head made my fur stand on end.

Hooves galloped closer, and Jorlan's scarred face appeared from the shadows, filling my vision. He was pale, and his chest was splattered with something. He withdrew a large key from a pouch on his armor and shoved it into the lock on the door.

"What's happening out there?" I demanded. "Is this your distraction?"

"The demons are not my doing," his voice was remarkably smooth as he trembled. "Fight them at your own risk."

I gaped and stuttered a response, but he swung the door open and vanished into the darkness. Demons? Those were supposed to be old mares tales! There were old legends of demonologists, like Grogar the Terrible, but most historians had dismissed those claims as wartime propaganda.

I once asked Celestia about them. After all, other planes existed, and powerful unicorns could summon elemental spirits from these places for various tasks. Even I could, and legends say that demons resided in some chaotic plane very different from ours. She noted that many dark sorcerers had done terrible things in the ancient past trying to make pacts with evil beings, and such things were better forgotten—legends or not.

It could be a monster attack. A creature or group of creatures had wandered in from the depths and was now causing havoc for the denevér. Regardless, this was our chance.

"Alright, everyone," I shouted. "This isn't what we planned for, but it's now or never. Everyone split off for your assigned tasks and meet at the bridge in five minutes. We don't know how long the guards will be distracted, so let's move!"

I scooped up Stool and placed him on my back. Derendil, Jimjar, and I bolted across the bridge. The netting swayed precariously as I ran across it, trusting in the muscle memory I had developed over the last week to guide my path, and my hooves found the rock floor of the guard tower.

As Jorlan promised, the guards were absent, so our group ran through the next door. I heard Ront's team climb down the ladder behind us. We reached the narrow rocky path in a few seconds, passing the waterfall on my left, and we paused at the foot of the bridge leading to the largest tower.

I was close enough now to hear the whooshing of wings in the dark amidst the screams, but they were still dominated by the incessant droning that drilled deep into my ears. There was something terribly wrong with that sound. My heart palpitated as it awoke some primal terror in me, and I swooned as it reached a crescendo.

Derendil clamped his paws over his ears and howled while Jimjar pinned his ears against his skull. Several screams were silenced, only to be replaced with a wet crunch as something struck the ground a few dozen hooves in front of me. I paled, nauseated, and took a deep breath.

"There is some kind of magic in that buzzing sound," I shouted. "Try to ignore it. Come on!"

We rushed up the walkway and burst through the silk curtain.

Laying before the statue was the still form of Asha. She was still wearing her vestments, and I saw a thin trail of blood dripping from her nose. It looked like she had collapsed there. I placed a hoof on her neck to check for a pulse.

"I can't feel anything," I said as I removed my hoof, "but I'm trembling too much to get an accurate read. Is she… dead?"

Jimjar leaned down and pressed his ear close to her mouth. He closed his eyes, frowned, and hummed.

"It's shallow, but she's breathing. Merely out cold. Should we… do something?"

"No time," I said, shaking my head. "We can't exactly take her with us, and what would be the point? I don't know. Maybe we can… give her a pillow?"

"Not… what I meant," Jimjar scowled, "but fine. You're the boss, apparently."

Jimjar stepped aside to grab one of the many cushions around the room, but I reached out when movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.

"Look out!"

An enormous eight-legged shadow launched across the room. It skittered with unnatural speed, hissing with venomous spittle, as it barrelled towards Jimjar. Eight crimson eyes glimmered with predatory glee. The spider unfurled its legs, stretching nearly from one end of the room to another like a dark cloud. Its form blotted out the lantern as it moved, sending the room into pitch blackness for a moment.

The gargantuan spider landed on Jimjar with a crash, knocking him to the ground. His grunt morphed into a scream as the spider sank its jaws into his leg and shook him like a chew toy.

Stupid, Twilight! Stupid!

I had forgotten about the monster in the back of the room, distracted by Asha's unconscious form. My mind scrambled for a solution as the spider mauled my new friend right in front of me. I instinctively reached for my magic, but a sharp pain shot through my horn.

No spells, I thought and winced. What else was there? What else could I do? I scanned the room frantically. I needed a weapon. Any weapon. There!

I galloped to the altar, where two large silver candlesticks stood on either side of the statue. Low-burning flames burned on the wax candles sitting on top, casting the idol in a menacing glow. Reaching out, I grabbed the candlestick in my mouth and gave it an experimental swing. It was awkward and unwieldy, and the weight made my neck ache, but it had to do.

Meanwhile, Derendil lunged at the spider with claws bared, but the spider twisted its body and launched a wad of webbing from its abdomen at the quaggoth. He collapsed in a tumble, restrained by the sticky webs, and struggled to free himself. I charged forward and took a running leap over Derendil. The spider turned to face me, its multitude of eyes narrowing at the new threat.

With all my might, I swung at the creature and screamed past the candlestick clamped between my teeth. The spider skittered back, its shadows shifting as the flame went dark, but my improvised mace clipped the monster across a mandible. It shrieked, shook the bruised appendage, and glared at me with murderous fury dripping from all eight ruby eyes.

Jimjar clambered to his hooves from underneath me and stumbled somewhere out of sight.

That brief distraction was all the spider needed. It lunged forward, legs the size of tree branches and fangs like daggers. I backpedaled and tried to put the candlestick between me and its jaw, but it shoved past my sloppy guard and sliced into my shoulder with one of its fangs.

I swung in a panic and let out a muffled scream. The wound burned with the shallow stab, but a numbing chill rapidly spread down my leg. My swing went wide as the spider darted to the side, moving with uncanny agility despite its size.

A thunderous roar shook the room as Derendil joined the fray. He leaped straight over me and landed on the beast's back. The deer-turned-quaggoth raked his massive paws across its abdomen, causing the spider to screech and thrash as it tried to dislodge him.

Jimjar appeared from the side, ran forward with the second candlestick in his jaw, and swung at a leg, but he stumbled at the last moment as his injured leg snagged on one of his chains. The swing missed by a mile.

The spider dropped into a roll, limbs flailing, and momentarily crushed Derendil under its weight, but the monster clambered to its feet with the quaggoth finally dislodged. It darted forward and snapped its jaws. Derendil spun, batting the mandibles to the side with a paw. I rushed forward and tried to take out a leg as Jimjar did, but the limb blurred, and I was suddenly on my back several hooves away. The candlestick landed with a clatter somewhere to my right.

As I struggled to catch my breath, Derendil's claws flashed again. The spider jerked once, twice, and I heard something squelch and saw liquid splatter across the ground. It shrieked once more, but it sounded more pitiful this time—a cry of pain rather than rage. I heard Jimjar grunt from somewhere on the other side.

The spider stumbled backward and skittered toward the door, but Derendil snatched one of its legs with both hands and yanked. It flopped to the ground, limbs flailing, as the quaggoth again jumped on top of the spider's thorax. He reached down, grabbed the mandibles and pulled up with a mighty twist. I opened my mouth to scream, tell him to stop, but my voice was drowned out by the awful bestial scream and sickening crunch as the quaggoth ripped the spider's mouth parts apart.

Bile rose in my throat, and I shuddered. Derendil stood on top of the spider's quivering body—its corpse—and heaved with mighty breaths.

We… We killed it.

Intellectually, I knew it was self-defense. I knew that it was it or us, but that didn't change the sickened pit in my stomach. It didn't change the fact that we took the life of an innocent creature that was just trying to defend its home. Oh Celestia, what would Fluttershy think?!

The pungent smell of smoke interrupted my thoughts. I snapped my head to the side and looked in horror as an almost blinding flame sprung to life on the other side of the room amidst the cushions.

The candle!

I jumped to my hooves and limped to where I last saw Jimjar. He leaned against the wall, taking heavy breaths, and I could see his face for the first time since we'd met. The glitter sprite had a short-cropped mane that had once been shaven almost to his natural coat but now stuck out in a Zebra-like mohawk. Said coat was ashen grey like the surrounding stone. His muzzle was large and slightly bent like it had been broken repeatedly and hadn't been set correctly. There was also a large tear in his ear where a piercing might've gone. Jimjar had his eyes squinted shut and wore a pained grimace.

"Can you walk?" I asked frantically. There was an ugly pair of puncture wounds and an alarming amount of blood on his leg.

"... Yes," he hissed. "I won't be happy about it, but I don't exactly have much choice in the matter. Is the sprout alright?"

I gawked and found Stool shivering next to me. I had completely forgotten he was there! He must've fallen off my back when the spider kicked me.

"Oh my gosh, Stool!" I flusteredly checked him over. "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Stool carried his thoughts to me in a cloud of rapport spores. They were quick and disjointed. Fear. Hurt. Bright! Leave now?

[Twilight makes a Nature check with disadvantage. She rolls a 5 + 4 = 9.]

He didn't appear injured, but the little myconid shied away from the light and hid inside my shadow. The light! After over a week of not seeing the sun, the growing fire on the other side of the room nearly blinded me. What was it like for creatures that had lived their entire lives in complete darkness? It must have been like staring into the sun and so very alien.

"He seems alright, but we need to leave. That fire is spreading fast. Derendil!"

The quaggoth flinched, shuddered, and turned to face me. His face was full of sharp angles, exaggerated by the light. Derendil's sunken, black, beady eyes betrayed the haunted look in his gaze as he looked down at the blood drenching his claws.

"Your Highness…?" he asked with a quiver in his voice.

"You're alright, Derendil, but we need to move. Come on, I need you to carry the chest downstairs."

He shook away the stupor and nodded. Derendil and I descended the ladder while Jimjar and Stool stayed topside. The room was empty, of which I was thankful, and I made a beeline for the chest beside Ilvara's bed.

"She must be outside helping fend off the attack. That's the chest there. It should have my books and any other belongings we had that had any value."

Derendil nodded and grunted, heaving his chest onto his shoulder. We immediately climbed back up the ladder to find Jimjar pressed against the wall, with Stool huddled close. In the few seconds we were gone, the fire had spread across half the room. All of the expensive silks and fluffy cushions went up like dried grass. Smoke filled the chamber. My eyes watered, and for a moment, I couldn't find the exit.

Wait!

I stumbled over to where I remembered Asha was lying on the ground. A fine coating of soot marred her otherwise beautiful face. Reaching down, I grabbed a mouthful of her robes in my teeth and dragged her across the floor.

We followed the wall on our right, and for a brief instant, I wondered if we were going in the right direction before we stumbled out of the tower and onto the rope bridge. I hacked and rubbed the soot out of my eyes but didn't stop until we were on solid ground.

The horrible buzzing was still present, but it had greatly diminished. I didn't know if that meant the battle was winding down, but we were running out of time regardless. We still had about three minutes until the rendezvous. Did the others need help?

I looked at my companions. Jimjar seethed as he tied a torn piece of cloth around his leg. Derendil's paws twitched as he carried the large chest, and Stool shivered in fear beside me. Asha, an enemy but still a pony, wheezed heavily at my hooves. Then I still had this stupid horn ring that was making me deadweight.

I had two options. There was a possibility that I could remove the horn ring, but it was risky. The denevér might have underestimated the amount of magic I produced and gave me an insufficient ring, which meant I could theoretically overload the delicate matrices within the device. Still, if I didn't meet that threshold, all that magical energy would backfire directly into my brain. The best-case scenario was a severe migraine. Worst case? A minor stroke.

If I succeeded, I'd have access to my most valuable tool if we encountered anything like that giant spider. Ilvara might also get involved if she saw us fleeing, and I had no idea what kind of magic she could use with that artificial horn. However, if I failed, I might be down for the count. I might even just wake up in the cell again.

The second option was to leave it on until we were safer. I could still plan and direct everyone, but I wouldn't have access to my magic if something went wrong.

We had two and a half minutes until the rendezvous. Did I even have time to remove it? If I wanted to do it safely, now amidst all this chaos certainly wasn't the right moment, but dangerous was better than dead. I've handled magic feedback before, but that was from a misfired spell. If I didn't do this right, every thaum would get lanced into my skull.

It was a gamble.

My thoughts were interrupted by movement in front of us. Shuushar emerged from the darkness with Topsy and Turvy in tow. He carried an overburdened sack that swung heavily over his shoulder, and I nodded approvingly. We had food and supplies now. All that was left was Ront's group, and then we could…

I snapped my focus down to Topsy as she drew closer and into the light of the flames that burned behind me. She trembled, and her eyes were red and puffy from tears, but the thing that drew my eyes the most was all the blood drenching her hooves, neck, and chest.

Oh no!

"What happened?!"

Author's Note

I'll be breaking up this chapter into at least two pieces. Also, remember to leave an upvote and a comment letting me know your thoughts!