"Captain! Captain Shining Armour!"

Growling, Shining Armour turned his head from the armoured wagon his soldiers were currently unloading, a look of aggravation fixed upon his muzzle at the sight of a pack of journalists swarming towards him, quills and note-books at the ready. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the wagon, telekinetically lifting a crate from the interior before setting on the ground, the contents giving off a heavy thud.

The captain and his soldiers were currently situated at the centre of the busy intersection on the main through-fare of Canterlot, unloading weapons and armour from the backs of two armoured wagons, their golden plating shimmering in the glorious sun-light of Celestia's holy sun. They'd barely pulled up, yet already members of the Canterlot Guard were forming a cordon across all four junctions of the cross-road, their imposing forms easily pushing back the aristocratic inhabitants of the city, many of whom watched with a mixture of curiosity and tangible fear; living as luxurious and care-free life as they did, the threat of trouble that was always implied by the presence of the Guard never failed to inspire in them a sense of unease.

Arrogant pigs. Shining thought to himself, pulling out two short-swords with his telekinesis and giving the blades several testing swings, measuring up their weight in his grip. If they'd done even a quarter of my duties...

The first of the journalists had reached him, a young mare with the characteristic look of an inquisitive spirit sparkling in her eyes as her quill, raised like some mighty battle-axe, stood poised to jot down any word that left her target's mouth. "Captain Shining Armour; what is the exact cause of the deployment of the Celestial Guard within the city walls?" Shining Armour didn't dean to instantly reply, deciding to keep the mare on-edge as he inspected one of the blades held in his grip, watching the light gleam across the polished steel.

"Her royal highness has deemed that the Celestial Guard shall perform a sweep of the Canterlot sewer system in search of any remaining changelings from the recent invasion." The reply was blunt, designed to provide an answer without giving away too much detail. In an ideal world, it would have served as sufficient explanation, but unfortunately, journalists were a damnably curious lot. Worse yet, others were now crowding around him.

"How long has the crown suspected the presence of changelings in the sewers?"

"How large is the swarm beneath the city. Should the citizens of Canterlot has cause for concern?"

"Did the crown intentionally keep this information from the public?"

"Are rumours of infiltrators in the city's infrastructure true?"

"What is your response to the allegations that you were a willing pawn of the changeling queen?"

The Celestial Guard suddenly came to a dead halt, armoured heads turning to gaze upon their captain; every warrior aware that a very, very dangerous line had been crossed. Of the events leading up to the changeling invasion of Canterlot on the day of his wedding, Shining Armour spoke very little. Truthfully, no one knew exactly how long Queen Chrysalis had been hidden within the walls of the palace, the lone individual infiltrating dozens of layers of security to take up personal residence within the hallowed walls of the structure. The incident was embarrassing enough for the Celestial Guard as it was, having served their vigil for well over two thousand years as ever-loyal protectors of the royal bloodline. But the fact that their captain, their leader, had been held within the clutches of the very being who had orchestrated the entire event, was a mark of shame upon the Guard that wouldn't soon fade.

For Shining Armour himself, the event had touched on a much more personal note; twisted his pride in a way that had caused a deep instability within his sense of self. Since he was barely a colt, Shining Armour had dreamed of nothing but serving in the ranks of the Celestial Guard, of being one of the elite few warriors who could serve the ancient bloodline of Equestria. From the moment he could walk, he'd practised marching. From the moment he could read, he'd spent days locked within his bedroom, pouring over texts that told of the great victories won by Equestria's armed forces. From the moment he'd be eligible for military service, his whole life had revolved of attaining that rare and singular honour; of being captain of the Celestial Guard. Many were the awards and accolades held by the stallion, and there wasn't a soldier alive who didn't know the name of Shining Armour: he was a hero, an icon, something to aspire to.

And yet that monster, that... thing, had played him like a foal.

On the matter of which transgression was worse, Shining didn't know where to begin. Which sin was the heaviest? The fact that he'd let the queen of an invasive species take up residence within his own chambers? That such a creature had come within an inch of ending the life of the monarch he was sworn to protect? The undeniable truth that under his very muzzle Chrysalis had taken the mare he was preparing to devote his life to, and then occupied her place so perfectly he'd never been able to tell? Or perhaps it was the fact that even when his sister Twilight, a mare he'd been able to trust implicitly for his whole life, had warned him that something wasn't right, he'd shrugged off her warning and rejected her very being?

Of the many regrets and failures that continuously circled within the mind of the captain, these were but a bare few: grains of sand upon the great beach of self-doubt, walked by a colt with broken pride.

"I have my orders," the captain answered with a calm, well composed voice, pulling two sheaths from the crate he had unloaded and strapping them across his flanks before sliding the two short-swords into them, the well-oiled steel releasing a faint shing. "For any further information regarding the crown's official stance of the threat level presented by the changeling swarm, you should contact the public department of information. That concludes the questions." Raising his voice of over the protests of the journalists, Shining Armour selected two of the Canterlot Guard from the perimeter boundary. "Get these ponies out of here, we've got work to do!"

Waiting several moments before the journalists were pushed back to the opposite side of the boundary, Shining Armour let out a high pitched whistle, nineteen of the Celestial Guard falling in around him. Though a full forty members of the Canterlot guard had been deployed to this specific junction, only ten members of the Celestial Guard, Shining included, were present. Though they wore similar regalia, the ponies forming the barrier against the civilians were only members of the Canterlot Guard, as denoted by the purple trim of their armour. As for the ten Celestial Guard present, they were only a single team, one of dozens spread across the city that were preparing to enter the sewers. Looking about himself, Shining confirmed he had each pony's undivided attention before pulling out a map from the crate behind him and laying it flat out on the ground, his soldiers forming a circle around it.

The map itself, formed of newly printed, crisp paper, and vibrant inks that had yet to fade away, was a depiction of the most up-to-date layout of the Canterlot sewers below them, criss-crossed with dozens of faint, curving lines and foot-notes in spidery script. Main tunnels were marked out by broad strokes of green ink, interconnected with small lines of orange representing tributaries. Cutting across several of the main lines were dashed lines of purple ink representing maintenance corridors, whilst larger reservoirs and filtering stations stood out as large, clearly defined circles amidst the spider's web of rainbow ink.

"Listen up, Celestial Guard," Shining barked in the most authoritive voice he could muster, the ponies instinctually snapping to attention. "Our target is this primary junction station here," Shining pointed to a particularly large circle towards the north-east of the map. "Intel from preliminary scans suggests that the changelings are congregating in this section of the tunnels, and if their aethereal signature is anything to go by, there's a least a few hundred down there. We enter from this access-hatch here." The hoof slid across the map to where several of the larger tunnels met in a octagonal junction, whilst the other pointed beyond the huddled soldiers to the large iron disk in the centre of the cross-roads. "Once in the tunnels we follow the main line until we reach sub-station B. From there we rendezvous with Bravo team and head into this tributary tunnel. We can't take the main routes, as it is more than likely the swarm will have those well scouted. However, if Intel is correct this tributary is all but unguarded, and should give us clear transit straight into the heart of the enemy."

Shining looked from the map to his soldiers, each nodding in confirmation. "Bear in mind, gentlecolts, that this may be our one chance to crush what's left of the swarm. If we mess this up, they'll either disperse again, and we'll never be able to track each one down, or, if we leave them too long, they may elect another queen and grow too large for us to stop. I want complete cohesion and co-operation, and if I see anyone stepping one hoof outta line, there's gonna be more than a court-martial! The Solar Princess has designated the eradication of the swarm as our top priority, and we shall not fail, shall we?"

"Sir, no, Sir!" came the unison reply.

"Good, now, one more thing. Intel has been patchy on this, but we've had several unconfirmed reports from scouts claiming to have sighted Queen Chrysalis within the sewers, and we all know what that means." A rumble went through the assembled soldiers, not a single word spoken, yet the air about them seemed charged with the realisation that they had an opportunity to avenge their damaged pride. "Should we encounter Chrysalis, it is imperative that she be detained and brought in for questioning. Bear in mind that she has incredible physical agility, strength, and hypnotic capabilities, so stay sharp down there. Should she not be encountered, than the operation shall continue as planned, and I don't wanna see anyone going out on a limb because they're jumping shadows. Now, move out!"

Breaking their huddle, the soldiers had the large access-hatch open within moments, two members of the Celestial Guard descending into the depths. For several long seconds, the soldiers top-side waited with baited breath before a flare of pink light from the bottom of the access-shaft signalled that the coast was clear. One by one, the Celestial Guard mounted the iron rungs of the ladder and began their descent, until only Shining Armour remained. Taking a brief moment before he to descended into the darkness, Shining Armour took one final, deep breath of fresh air; savouring the slight summer fragrance of wild-flowers before donning his helmet and swinging out onto the ladder, the rusted rungs clanging lightly beneath the weight of his armour, flakes of red metal hail coming loose with each step. Looking up, Shining Armour could just make out the blurred silhouettes of several guards up on the surface, the intense radiance of the holy sun behind them, before, with an action that seemed to take an eternity, they slid the access-hatch back into place.

Then, there was nothing but darkness.

Reaching the bottom of the ladder, Shining Armour flared his horn, sending a dull cyan illumination across everything within a two meter radius around him. The sewers were dark and foreboding, the rank stench of sewage much stronger within the depths of the subterranean network then when they had been at the top of the shaft. Save for the dim, aethereal glow of Shining Armour's horn and those of his soldiers, no light penetrated the depths; shadows draped across every surface, jealously guarding the detail of the tunnel's interior with a cover of dark obscurity. All about was silence; save for the faint movements of the armour plating worn by the soldiers who scanned about themselves warily, senses heightened by years of training to perform the hardest and most adverse operations. For a few moments none moved, each pony straining to hear even the slightest sounds from the encircling shadows, some sign that the enemy was nearby; watching and waiting.

When none came, the squad drew their blades, and by the silent command of their captain, began the mission.

They were making their way along a wide ledge on what seemed to be the left side of a large sewage tunnel, the landing beneath them big enough for five ponies to walk abreast. Though everything beyond the thin aura of light that surrounded them lay hidden in shadows, what the dim glow of the soldiers horns revealed did much to change the squads initial impression of their operating environment.

Canterlot had always been created with the expressed purpose of serving as the capital city of Equestria, an accolade that no mere conglomeration of urban zones could suffice. Following the tragic events of the Nightmare Heresy, and the subsequent abandonment of the Ancient Palace that had serviced the royal bloodline for close to four thousand years, the Solar Princess had commissioned the construction of a new city, a new capital, with expressed purpose of showcasing to the citizens of Equestria, and the rulers of the foreign nations, that theirs was still a nation of strength and pride. Built on the side of one of Equestria's most iconic peaks, Canterlot was a place of refinement, a place where everything from the access-hatches to the sewers, to the gas lamps that lined the boulevards, to even the public balconies on the city's rim, was to be considered a work of art in its own right. Truly the surface city was an incredibly beautiful place, but it wasn't only the sun-lit lands that the architects had seen fit to beatify.

Beneath the surface of Canterlot, the sewer system of the great city was a cavernous place; the tunnels and junction stations more akin to the great vaulted halls of a cathedral than any mere waste-removal system. At least fifteen meters above the squad, thick pillars supported a heavy, vaulted covering; gargoyles, sculpted in such a way that they seemed to be carrying the weight of the roof upon their backs, twisted faces leering down upon those who passed below. Beneath them, even the ledge they walked upon was yet another piece of ornamentation, blunt, angular geometrics carved into the stone's surface. The whole place seemed possessed of a much dark aura than the city above, a gothic mirror-image of darkness and containment in comparison to the light, airy city above.

The journey towards the rendezvous point with Bravo team went without incident, nought emerging from the shadows save for the occasional scurrying rat. None-the-less, the lack of the enemies presence didn't serve to dissuade the mounting tension that hung over the squad. Though each member of the Celestial Guard was a warrior honed by years, possibly decades, of intense training and heroic conflict, there seemed to be something that just wasn't... right, about this place, something that seemed to rouse a sense of dread in one's soul. Shining could feel it rising with each step he took, a strange sense of foreboding that simply refused to dissipate. Feeling fear wasn't something to be ashamed of, all soldiers knew that, but this was something different, something... artificial, as if it was being actively induced within him by something that didn't want him to pierce any deeper into the network.

Shining let a grim expression pass across his muzzle, such a thing could only mean one thing: the changelings were watching them.

"Tighten formation," he ordered, the squad pulling together a little closer, ears perked and listening. Though he knew that for now it was more than likely the swarm was simply monitoring his squad, Shining could tell by the warrior's instinct within him that it was simply a matter of time before the changelings realised that his squad was merely one team in a co-ordinated assault against the new hive, and that when such a realisation was reached by the swarm's hive-like consciousness, the changelings would not hesitate to launch their own desperate attack before the Celestial Guard became a threat to their new home. Though a full thirty minutes had passed since they'd initially entered the tunnel, there was still no sign of enemy activity; and yet still Shining Armour could feel the fur on his nape bristle with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched.

Of course, there was more than just changelings down here in the darkness; there wasn't any guarantee that the creature's watching them were the same enemies Shining and his soldiers had been deployed to eliminate. Many were the tales of wide-eyed sewer workers recounting terrifying beasts and unnatural life-forms that were said to dwell in the filth beneath the city, and though the aristocrats above continued to sneer at such stories, brushing them off and the ramblings of drunks and swindlers, Shining Armour knew that for every ten lies that made it to the surface, there was one nugget of truth. More than a few times he'd had the duty of de-briefing terrified workers returned from the depths, listening with a keen ear to stuttered claims of beasts bigger than ponies who walked on ten legs, or leviathans who dove beneath the filth of the sewage channels, simply waiting for the right moment to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Once or twice he'd even been given accounts of spirits drifting through the tunnels, aethereal, incorporeal beings who were said to hunger for the warmth and vitality of living flesh, doomed to an eternal limbo of soulless existence within the black labyrinth of the Under-City.

Most of the stories that reached the captain's ears he knew to be lies, but there always those rare few accounts who seemed genuine in their claims, and it was on those whispered warnings that Shining's mind dwelt.

They came upon Sub-Station B roughly five-hundred meters later, the sewage tunnel they were following suddenly opening up into a cavernous octagonal chamber at least fifty meters wide. At each corner rose a fat-bodied pillar, more leering gargoyles perched atop each peak, whilst in the very centre of the chamber, where the eight inflows met, a dais rose above the centre-point allowing anypony travelling the network to cross the streams and select a new path. Thankfully the thick miasma of the sewers seemed a little thinner here, the foul air fractionally more tolerable. As they entered, Shining Armour's gaze swept across the hall, taking in each detail within seconds, analysing and noting everything he saw, and everything he didn't.

There was no sign of Bravo Squad.

Perhaps if Shining Armour had been performing the operation with a unit of provisional garrison soldiers, the lateness of Bravo Squad wouldn't have surprised him given the sub-par standards he would have had to use. But he wasn't working with provisional garrison soldiers, he was working with the Celestial Guard, and the absence of Bravo squad instantly put him and his soldiers into a state of alert. In the Celestial Guard, there was no such thing being second-rate. The products of intense training, each member of the Celestial Guard was conditioned to be but a single cog in the engine of the Guard, each piece working together with those around it to ensure that every operation occurred with slick precision. That meant that everything worked in accordance with a strict time-table, each and every warrior knowing where he needed to be and when down to the last centimetre and millisecond. In the operations assigned to the Celestial Guard, there was no room for error, no cushion-zone for a slight miscalculation, either everything worked with stopwatch perfection, or nothing worked at all.

In such a state of affairs, the absence of Bravo Squad could only mean bad news. Second only to Shining Armour's own soldiers, Bravo Squad was headed by a strong willed stallion named Tiberius, a pony Shining almost attributed paternal pride too. Tiberius had been by Shining Armour's side since their induction into the guard, and had always served well as second in command, whether in the heat of battle or in the creation of new strategies, and was a pony Shining Armour knew to trust, which only served to make his absence even more worrying. The survivors of over twenty engagements, it was highly unlikely that Bravo Squad's absence was due to their leader's map reading ability, and unless nearly every single horror story he'd ever heard about the sewers proved to be true, Shining also doubted that something else was the cause behind their disappearance. That left only one explanation left, one that Shining hoped against hope wasn't true.

Bravo Squad had already fallen to the enemy.

"Listen up!" Shining Armour called out, the soldiers of his squad snapping to attention as they recognised the tone of his command, one he only ever used when he required absolute attention. "Given Bravo Squad's absence, we can only conclude that the soldiers of the unit have already fallen to the enemy, and as we can all guess, that changes thing." Turning, Shining Armour pointed down the tunnel directly opposite the one they had just left, its large entrance arch like the maw of some epic stone beast in the half-light of the shadowed chamber. "As of this moment, the operation is compromised. We shall continue onwards to the tributary tunnel and through it until we reach the perimeter of the hive, where we will regroup with the others and commence a withdrawal of the area. From this moment on, each and every one of us is to be considered within hostile territory, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes Sir!"

"Then let's move it, you colts!"

They crossed the chamber swiftly, the squad shifting to a brisk jogging pace. Originally, the plan had been to rendezvous with Bravo Squad in the Sub-Station before pushing onwards to the perimeter of the hive, where the combined might of two of the Celestial Guard's units would then be used to penetrate into the heart of the swarm, whilst the remaining units maintained the perimeter and purged anything that attempted to escape. Now, without Bravo Squad, it could only be assumed that the enemy had already mobilised, and it wasn't beyond consideration that the same could have also occurred with the other units already. For all they knew, the soldiers of Shining Armour's squad could have been the only living ponies in the whole damn network, the last remaining souls preyed upon by un-equine enemies. Shining cursed bitterly to himself.

Bloody Changelings.

If the operation was already comprised, Shining didn't even want to consider what implications such a situation implied. To begin with, the best case scenario was that Bravo Squad either really had only gotten lost, or they were the only casualties of the operation; worst case scenario was that they were the only ponies left alive, and they would never see the light of Celestia's holy sun ever again. An image came to Shining Armour's mind: that of himself and his squad as they fought wave upon wave of changelings, backs to the wall as they were slowly drowned through weight of numbers before their corpses were set upon by ravenous beasts seeking nourishment. The very idea that such a death awaited him sent shivers up the captains back, along with a strong resolve that he would not die down here, that he would return to the surface and make passionate love to his wife in celebration of his survival.

Yes, that was a much more preferable image than that of the changeling swarm.

The squad had moved roughly six-hundred meters down the new tunnel before Shining Armour's ears perked, the stallion's warrior instincts subconsciously identifying that something was amiss. His squad-mate's must have felt the same instinct, as the group came to a stop of unanimous accord, each warrior present straining to detect some sign of an enemy presence. At first Shining Armour could make out nothing; the rank air was stagnant, save for the faint trickling of the filthy stream beside the walk-way, and the baited breath of his companions. Tuning his instincts yet further, Shining felt his sensory awareness expand. Gradually, his auditory comprehension pushed outwards, his olfactory senses piercing the miasma of filth and muck of the sewer to pick out a greater variety of scents. As he pushed further and further outwards, Shining suddenly came across something that made his ears twitch: a bizarre cross between clicking and rustling, as if someone were knocking ceramic tiles together, a lot of them.

Instantly, Shining Armour felt the hairs on his nape rise as he spun back the way they had just come; his horn lowered and ready to unleash aethereal death. By reflex, the stallions of his squad copied the move exactly, presenting the darkness with an additional nine horns of magically charged ivory. For several painfully long seconds, the time seemed still, as if the whole universe was waiting with baited breath for whatever came next; even the strange rustling seemed to have stopped. Growling from the back of his throat, Shining Armour gazed into the darkness before charging his horn.

"Flare out."

A pulsing ball of cyan light leapt from his horn, streaming away into the darkness with a contrail of sparkling cyan particles. As it moved down the length of the tunnel it bathed everything in a five meter radius with cold, frigid light; painting the length of the tunnel with stark, anatomical clarity. For a good hundred or so meters the tunnel was empty, the sphere's light falling upon nothing save the bare, gothic ornamented walls, and the disgusting green filth of the open sewage channel. Briefly, as the sphere drew closer and closer to the entrance to the tunnel, Shining Armour allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, admonishing himself for jumping at shadows. It must have been the air of the sewers filling him with dread; the dark, claustrophobic confines of the tunnel stirring his mind alive with images of dark creatures and vicious killers.

Then, the illusion of safety was shattered.

One moment the tunnel was empty and deserted, the next, the cyan sphere of light was sailing over the heads of a thick swarm of changelings. In the cold light of the small orb, their large, green eyes glinted like dull emeralds; the spheres devoid of any visible structures such as pupils of retina. There must have been dozens of the creatures, easily a hundred or more, the swarm of armoured beasts creeping forwards with uniform precision, as if driven by a collective consciousness unfathomable to the equine mind. As the cyan orb continued to reveal more changelings as it travelled onwards, Shining Armour felt something in his resolve gradually slip; the discipline instilled in him from years of training becoming lost beneath the weight of primal fear. As the first rank of changelings was revealed, the swarm came to a complete halt; empty eyes staring with unnerving intensity towards the small squad of ponies. The orb made it another twenty meters before dying, and the shadows leapt forwards to reclaim their realm.

Then, the air erupted with a piercing, blood-curdling shriek.

Shining Armour felt himself become locked in place, his mind at war with itself, even though he knew that with each moment spent in thought the swarm drew closer to ending the lives of himself and his squad. On one hoof, his fight reflex screamed at him to attack: to kill the changelings before they could kill him, with his years of experience in the field demanding he do just that. On the other side of the debate, the flight reflex railed against such a notion, knowing that the swarm was far too large for himself and his squad to take on, that if they attempted such a stand his earlier visions of dying beneath the face of the earth would become true, and he would never be able to make sweet love to his darling wife. For what felt like an eternity, the stallion was held on a knife-edge, teetering between suicidal attack and cowardly retreat, before his mind reached a compromise that snapped him out of his self-induced paralysis.

Fight or flight: why not both?

Charging his horn, Shining Armour released a bolt of energy from the ivory protrusion, sending a blinding lance of intense cyan light into the heart of the approaching swarm before turning and running for his life, the stallions of his squad following suit. From behind them came a cacophony of shrill screams and shrieks as the bolts hit home: searing flesh from bone, and vaporising anything that was left. Sprinting onwards, Shining didn't turn to see how much damage their attack had caused, his mind instead focussed on staying alive for as long as possible. Already adrenaline was surging through his body, muscles pumping and heart-rate climbing as millennia of survival instincts began to flood the stallions consciousness. Putting his sprinting legs into auto-pilot, the aloof, calculating portion of Shining's mind took stock of the situation, taking into account every factor and devising a plan for survival.

The squad was approximately five-hundred or so meters from the tributary tunnel that would have allowed them to access the newly-forming hive, had the mission gone to plan, of course. Though others would call taking such a route suicide now that they had roused the anger of the swarm, Shining knew that taking said route would be the best plan for survival. The current tunnel they were in was far too large to mount an effective defence; in order to do so they would have to find somewhere where they could funnel the changelings into an enclosed space, thus negating their clear numerical advantage, and given that the tributary tunnel was the only location for at least three kilometres in any direction where such a thing could be accomplished, Shining knew they didn't have any choice in the matter. It was either the tributary tunnel, or death. Glancing over his shoulder, Shining squinted into the darkness, trying to make out any sign of their pursuers.

Though the darkness was heavy, and unyielding, Shining could still make out the strange, alien vocalisations of the swarm that chased them. The noises were beyond strange; a bizarre conglomeration of clicking, chittering, and shrill squeals that seemed to act as the changelings substitute for cohesive language. The unnerving sounds echoed and re-echoed off the confining walls of the sewer, growing louder and louder until it seemed as if the ponies were surrounded by an endless swarm of unthinking beasts, simply running for an eternity through foul darkness. Behind them, the captain could make out not trace of the enemy, the faintest flitter of relief running through him as he realised they were out-running the swarm.

From the shadows, a changeling leapt from the darkness behind them, its chitinous body gleaming in the dim light of the squad's still-lit horns. Chittering with victory, the changelings armoured hooves grasped at the gold-plated form of Titus, a young guard bringing up the very rear of the squad's retreat. For a few moments the pegasus used his wings to successfully bat away the changelings attempts to seize him, before, with a sharp yelp, the changeling managed to sink its fangs into the soft, feathered flesh of the pony's wings. A look of almost surreal disbelief seemed to cross the guards muzzle, as if he couldn't quite believe that this was how he would die, before his hooves caught on the floor and brought him toppling to the ground, his cry for help swiftly drowned beneath the chittering cries of the swarm.

There was nothing that could be done for him, the squad pushed onwards.

For what seemed an age they simply ran, pushing further onwards into the darkness whilst their pursuers kept pace. Following Titus' loss, a further two members of the squad had gone down, brought low by the changelings and dragged to the ground to provide a feast of flesh for the ravenous hunters. The shame of knowing that three of his soldiers had died down here, in the cold, unforgiving darkness of the sewers, burnt within Shining Armour's soul, only made worse by the fact that in the frenzy of the squads escape he'd been unable to make out exactly who was gone, the missing ponies no more than faceless blurs as he fled for his life. No pony could fault him for what had happened: the changelings had them out-manoeuvred, and out-numbered, plus, every soldier knew the risks entailed with military service, yet still Shining Armour couldn't help but feel shame at his inability to protect his squad; the soldiers who'd looked to him for guidance and leadership.

Suddenly, the entrance to the tributary tunnel emerged from the shadows, appearing as if it had been hidden from the world until the very moment Shining and his squad stumbled upon it. Turning as he reached entrance, Shining Armour paused long enough to push his surviving soldiers inside the shadowed entrance of the tunnel before diving in himself, telekinetically drawing his swords as he rolled across the hard floor; rising with his blades bared and instincts ready for combat. The tunnel was only two meters wide, the perfect length for his short-swords; as Shining noted when he brought both blades down on the first changeling to try following after him. Thick, greenish-black ichor stained the walls, the dead body dropping with a dull thump as Shining used an aethereal blast of power to send another two of the beasts flying from the tunnel and into the river of filth just beyond the entrance.

Knowing that even with such an advantage he still would be unable to hold off the swarm indefinitely, Shining Armour began to slowly pull back; forcing the changelings to pay for each surrendered inch with yet another of their aberrant lives. In the space of only twenty seconds Shining had already managed to kill thirteen of the creatures, both his blades and the entire front of his body stained with the vicious fluid of changeling blood. Hacking down on a neck with enough force to nearly severe the attached head entirely, Shining Armour felt his ears twitch as cries of surprise and desperation from his soldiers reached him over the din of combat; pausing long enough to repulse the oncoming hoard with another blast of magic, Shining turned and galloped as fast has his hooves would carry him, the swarm not far behind.

He was running through utter darkness, the light from his horn too dim, and his movements too frantic, to allow him to be able to see more than a few meters ahead of him; the world reduced to the black stone-work of the walls, roof, and ceiling. Behind him came the ever-present chittering, ripples of fear and disgust running through the captain's body as he felt fanged maws try to seize at the errant fibres of his tail. Charging straight-ahead, Shining suddenly felt the walls around him disappear, the unicorn emerging into a wide, circular room. Calling out for his brothers, it took Shining Armour's mind several moments to process the scene that was suddenly laid bare before him, so unexpected and shocking was its composition.

His brothers were defeated.

All about the chamber's dusty floor, dotted here-and-there in a discarded fashion, were the armoured forms of his squad-mates, their bodies still, and unresponsive. In the dull light of his horn, Shining Armour couldn't tell if they were dead or alive, his legs locking into place with shock as he tried to rationalise what could have possibly done this. A movement from the very centre of the room caught his attention, drawing the unicorn's eyes towards a black, armoured form that stood, tall and elegant, with its back to him. Held in the creatures telekinetic grip, one of the Celestial Guard, floating within an aura of sickly neon green, struggled feebly, the stallion fighting with every ounce of his strength as the... thing leaned in before sinking two needle sharp fangs into the pony's flesh. The guard squealed like a young colt, legs twitching before falling deathly still; the creature drawing out the pony's essence for several long moments before its aura dissipated, and the stallion fell lifelessly to the ground. With slow, unhurried movement, the creature turned to face Shining Armour, presenting the visage of a being that had haunted his dreams for months.

Chrysalis; hive-queen of the changeling swarm.

The moment she came fully about, Shining Armour felt something with his soul wail in despair, the colt taking a half-step backwards in shock and fear. The hive-queen before him smirked, the expression a terrifying mixture of playfulness and hunger. His mind screamed for him to run, to turn back and die before the encroaching swarm rather than face the terrible beauty stood before him. Yet even as his instincts sought to escape, Shining Armour found himself, unable to move, hopelessly transfixed by the intense, emerald gaze of the hive-queen. Chrysalis took a step towards Shining Armour, then another, then another, until she was so close the captain could feel her breath upon his muzzle, the enticing fragrance causing shivers to run down his spine. Smiling cruelly, Chrysalis leaned in until her muzzle was but inches from Shining Armour's ear, the colt trembling beneath her gaze.

"Hello, my love," she whispered in a perfect imitation of Mi Amore Cadenza. Shining Armour felt something within his resolve come loose, slipping away until it had vanished into oblivion.

And then he was falling, and falling, and falling, and falling.

Author's Notes:

Wow, here we are again.

This is the second round of clop for Shining Armour, but certainly by no means his last. As ever, feel free to leave a comment if there's anything you want to ask or point out about the story.

Erol.