The shock of a tiny zap of electricity is all it takes to set things in motion. One after another, the flathooves start to panic and buck like raging bulls. I internally cringe at the sight of the poor things bashing against the walls of the dungeon's upper portion, their hooves cracking stone and smashing whatever happens to be in their way. Maybe this is a bad idea?

  One of the flathooves near the front of the herd starts to charge. It grunts angrily, its bulky body thumping off the walls as it marches right toward the spiral staircase. The stairs look a bit narrow for the flathoof, but it starts to ascend regardless. The others follow with braying calls and irritated huffs.

  Every time a flathoof nearly falls off the stairs I have the urge to chew my nails, even though I'm not in my body at the moment. Their precarious climb is making the ground quake, too. The soldier's encampment up on the surface is starting to feel the effects. Nobody looks sure of what's happening, but they're all scared. Hopefully they'll flee like I planned for them to.

  The lead flathoof stomps its way through the narrow corridors of the upper dungeon entrance. It doesn't even bother slowing down when it gets to the mini maze, instead its horns and broad head smash through the relatively thin rock walls. The spike pits are smashed harmlessly beneath their hooves, rendered useless. The stampede is picking up speed as they shove their way up the final spiral staircase, about to enter the uppermost chamber of the dungeon.

  Wait, how will they cross those little gaps?

  Contrary to my worries, the flathooves easily leap the gap. They're big bodies scrape and thump against the walls, but they make it across just fine. The guards posted outside the dungeon's entrance are beginning to panic. They spot the first flathoof as it charges up the passage.

  Chaos is spreading throughout the camp like wildfire! I'm not sure if this is going according to plan or not, but most of the soldiers are fleeing the flathooves. The charging flathoof stampede is causing serious damage. They're knocking over tents, destroying makeshift structures, and nearly killing people as they charge out of the dungeon.

  This doesn't look good...

  The surge of mana going into my core alerts me to the death of a soldier. I have trouble stomaching the sight of him, crushed beneath an irate flathoof. This isn't going the way I hoped. Another gush of mana brings my attention to a corpse, their tent covering the gore. I feel a bit numb watching the flathooves trample everything.

  Luckily, the soldiers do leave. They do their best to get far from the entrance and herd of flathooves. I have to take the opportunity to renovate my dungeon's entrance. That's why I did this, and I'd rather not have to try and do something like this again.

  It takes a fair amount of willpower to ignore the flow of mana I keep feeling from the people on the surface dying. I mentally grit my teeth, and start to change the tunnels of my dungeon entrance. The spike pits, the chambers, the staircases, and even the cathedral all start to melt back into solid natural rock. I already moved the bullhead geckos down to Green Valley, so nothing was affected by this part.

  Another gush of mana from the death of a soldier.

  Ignoring it as best I can, I start to create a door at the mouth of my dungeon. Now there's a carved door identical to the one that was in my cathedral on the surface. It's linked with magic to Green Valley's entry tunnel. One of the biggest differences is in how the door opens. It's not some solid slab that must be pushed aside. Instead, it moves as if it has working hinges, but the weight of the door is enough to challenge any single person to make it budge.

  The sound of those hooves thundering around me is overwhelming. There's still shouting and screaming, despite everyone having fled the immediate area.

  I ensure the door to Green Valley is left open. It's more spectacular to see a door into a world that doesn't belong there. The way I bent space is more obvious now. I should feel proud of myself, but instead I feel hollow.

  My dungeon's entrance feels much more appropriate now.

  People died for this? For some unimportant sense of aesthetics?

  For the first time since I got here, I feel truly angry. I've felt threatened, frustrated, sad, scared, and many other emotions. But never have I felt rage. I'm pissed at myself for this stupid idea. I'm furious I could do something as stupid and reckless as this.

  Before I forget, I ring the large bell I prepared for this exact purpose.

  Like magic, the stampede stops thumping around. Their attention is caught, and the herd turns toward the sound of the tolling bell. With a flick of my mana I divert the dungeon's door to lead to Flathoof Haven. One by one the flathooves shuffle their way into the door. Once I can no longer see any sign of the flathooves I released, I switch the door back to leading into Green Valley, so as to accommodate any... visitors.

  A few long moments pass as I watch the soldiers above do their best to recuperate. It's heartbreaking to see them mourn those that were lost in the chaos of the stampede. Some of them are crying. Others are cursing at my dungeon, and by extension, at me.

  Who wouldn't swear at someone who killed your friends? Your family?

  To them I must seem like a natural disaster, or perhaps a demon of some kind. Making glowing rocks, weird creatures, and doing impossible things. Impossible... things...

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Wait a minute. Why haven't I tried this yet?

  ~

  The city has never looked so dreary. The people are gathered in the city square, every man, woman, and child. The remaining guards are keeping the peace, with a large portion of the men protecting Prince Theobald. He stands atop a makeshift stage constructed from timber brought from the surrounding wood.

  Everyone is looking to the--admittedly handsome--prince, hoping he'll explain what's going on. Rumors have already spread through the city like wildfire. Nobody specific is at fault for the leakage of information. Soldiers returning to their families inevitably let some of yesterday's events slip. The quaking of the ground reached even Daywark itself, so speculation is bound to occur. All of this is to say everyone wants answers.

  Finally, Prince Theobald takes the stand. He has to speak with great volume for everyone to hear him in the back. His voice projects remarkably well for someone considered a weak link in the royal line.

  "People of Daywark, hear me!"

  The crowd's voices quiet as they hear him call for their attention. Faces stained with dirt and a life spent working for very little look up to the pampered prince. The contrast is mediated only by the fact some of these people are family and friends of the guards protecting Prince Theobald on stage.

  "Your city's ruler, Lord Fredrick, has unfortunately passed on."

  Prince Theobald's words cut through the crowd like a knife. Several gasps of shock and confused murmurs erupt amongst the people. He could have blunted that reveal a bit more, but I'm sure I would have phrased it similarly, if it had been me up on that stage.

  "Please, hold your questions! I will explain everything!"

  That only gets some people to quiet down. The crowd is less calm now.

  "Firstly, I will be acting as the city lord of Daywark temporarily."

  Outrage and hostility marks the faces of many people in the crowd. Understandably so. Prince Theobald isn't someone any of these folk are familiar with, as he's from the capital. Taking a trip to such a bustling city is a matter of weeks, not days. Angry retorts come from the crowd.

  "You're not our lord!"

  "Get out of our city, you lout!"

  The prince's face twitches as he struggles to remain stoic in the face of open disdain. To his credit, he manages not to get verbally angry with the crowd.

  "We will be conducting a regular transfer of power once a candidate is available!"

  While many in the crowd of townspeople don't fully understand what he means by that statement, others fully understand. Those who get what is happening are quick to mention it to those around them. The crowd is noisy as people talk amongst themselves, but the shouting has stopped entirely.

  "Now, as my first order as city lord, I'm forbidding entry to the western forest."

  The tentative calm starts to crumble all over again. Whispers are exchanged as people begin to doubt the intentions of Prince Theobald. Men and women alike start to voice their questions.

  "Why can't we go to the forest?!"

  "I hunt there, I have to go into the west wood!"

  "Who gives you the right?!"

  Prince Theobald clenches his jaw as if holding back from simply swearing at the people beneath his stage. I sigh, leaning against the wall of a building on the edge of the crowd. Lord Fredrick would never be in this kind of situation. He may have been an odd man, but he was capable of handling the people's attention without fail.

  The stage rattles as Prince Theobald slams his fist upon the hardwood surface. His voice is raw and angry as he yells out at those gathered in the square.

  "You are not to go there, because that is where Lord Fredrick perished!"

  Silence envelopes the square in a suffocating embrace. The people gathered give one another uncertain looks, their questions dying in their throats as they consider what Prince Theobald means by this. Theories of a murder scene in the woods and a great disaster striking the late Lord Fredrick are tossed around as the silence is broken. One particularly brave man shouts up at Prince Theobald.

  "Was it the quakes?!"

  Prince Theobald's personal guard leans in to whisper something to him. Likely warning the prince about revealing too much information on something very lucrative and dangerous. Lord Fredrick had a similar policy about the dungeon. He didn't want anyone unqualified to know of its existence. Unfortunately, people have already got some idea from the rumors.

  "The quakes are... related to the passing of Lord Fredrick."

  The crowd grows noisier as they talk about what this could mean. Ideas of dragons waking up from their slumber, or a great chasm opening to swallow Lord Fredrick. Most of these ideas are dismissed as fantastical nonsense. One person calmly announces their theory, her voice ringing out over the din of the crowd.

  "What about the door?"

  Questions are muttered by the people as Prince Theobald visibly tenses. It's clear he isn't well trained in the practice of public speaking. He's giving away that the door is something important, and the common folk of Daywark are noticing.

  My eyes narrow as I try to see exactly who just mentioned the door. She's wearing a hooded cloak, so I can't quite tell. What I can say is that she looks irritatingly familiar.

  "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

  The prince's lame reply is enough to drive the curiosity of the crowd higher. The woman in the cloak instigates further, her voice raising in volume as she presses Prince Theobald on details no one should know for certain.

  "Tell us about the door in the forest!"

  Recognition strikes me as I listen to her call out to Prince Theobald. This doesn't make any sense to me, as she has been at Prince Theobald's side, and was in close contact with Lord Fredrick. Why would Miss Hawthorne be trying to rile up the people and get the information about the dungeon out? What could the merchant gain from this?

  People are shouting now. They're demanding Prince Theobald explain.

  "What is she saying?!"

  "Door? What's a door have to do with this?!"

  Swallowing his fear, Prince Theobald gives the people what they want to hear. The guards look shocked to hear him speak. I'm not surprised, as it was obvious he would crack under the pressure.

  "There is a door in the woods!"

  The people quiet down, listening to his words with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.

  "I-I cannot say what it leads to, I'm not sure if it is the door to heaven or hell."