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!