The Room of the Cookie table smelled like vanilla and fire.
Walls made of layered wafer bricks creaked softly under the shifting weight of the Egg Tree above. Sugarglass windows let in pale starlight through marshmallow panes. A round cookie table, wide and caramel-edged, stood at the center—its center seat, the largest one.
Celeste sat alone inside it.
Her blue knight armor caught the warm, flickering light of a nearby jelly-lantern. Her scarf—light blue, frayed at the edges—twisted gently as a breeze swept through the ancient roots of their home. Crumbs and dust clung to her boots. She hadn’t taken the armor off in days.
And atop her head, tilted just so, sat her faded blue newsboy hat—the one with two gold stars stitched at the side and soft wing patches on either side. It was old, battered, the brim a little torn—but lucky. She’d worn it since the beginning. Through storms. Through fire. Through the dark.
Celeste reached up and touched it now, briefly, as if to remind herself she was still here.
The Nommipedia sat open in front of her.
A heavy, gold-trimmed book that listed every creature they had ever faced, vanquished, or mourned. Pages bloomed with sketched diagrams and poetic warnings.
Gumdrop Revenants. Taffy Sirens. The Candy Dragon.
She ran her fingers over the names. Softly. As if touching the dead.
Beside her, a half-packed cookie tin rattled as she shifted. Inside it: a stitched plush of Chip, a cracked card from Skye’s deck, a splintered wand from Lumina, a guitar pick carved with lightning bolts. A group photo with frosting smudges.
At the bottom of the tin—an old, crumpled comic convention ticket, marked with a smeared green paw print.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she reached for a small voice recorder sitting near her tea mug. She picked it up, exhaled—and hit record.
Click.
“…Hey. This is Celeste Astallan. I guess… I guess this could be the last time I get to talk like this.”
Her voice cracked. She wiped at her eye. It only made the tears fall faster.
She stopped the recording. Breathed in. Tried again.
Click. Whirr. Click.
“…This is Celeste Astallan. Flame Ragdoll. Hybrid. Knight Commander of the Knights of Clawdiff. We’re about to head into the final battle. And this time, there’s no next phase. No act two. This is it.”
She reached down and carefully opened her journal. Old. Soft from months of clutching it in fear, in hope.
“I don’t know if I’m ready. But I know they are. They’ve come so far. Ray, Topsy, Pitch, Arcade, Skye, Lumina… Silver…”
Her hand hesitated on the last name.
“…And even Mezzo.”
She smiled sadly.
“I want to remember what we were. Not just what we’re fighting. And maybe… if I tell the story, it’ll make more sense. To someone. Someday. Because even now, after all of it… I still can’t believe how it began.”
She opened the tin again, picked up the convention ticket. Turned it over. That paw print had stained her sleeve the first time she’d touched it.
She gave a small, tearful laugh.
“It started with a comic convention.”
Her eyes lifted to the great ceiling of the Cookie Room—carved with candy knight crests and ancient battle scenes.
“…And an invitation.”
Outside, the Egg Tree groaned as wind curled through the branches.
And below it, one spark readied for the end—by remembering the beginning.
Chapter 1 : Starlight & Second Chances
The line outside Meowtroplex Convention Center shimmered like a rainbow river of wigs, wands, and the occasional flapping cape.
Vinyl banners snapped in the breeze overhead, each one boasting glittery mascots and pastel explosions of text.
The sky was clear, too bright for the soft lighting Celeste preferred, but today was not about comfort—it was about showing up.
She shifted her weight from one paw to the other, trying not to fidget with her wand. It wasn’t real, of course—just carefully painted foam and plastic, with a star at the tip that glowed faintly when tapped. Still, holding it made her feel a little more like Star Enchantress Elira, the magical girl whose courage she envied but hadn’t quite found for herself yet.
“Stop squishing your tail. You’ll wreck the ribbon,” Lumina said, voice light but distant, like she was reporting from the far end of a telescope. She hummed a little tune under her breath as she said it, almost absentmindedly.
Celeste glanced down. Sure enough, the looped blue satin tied around her tail had gotten crumpled beneath her nervous shuffling.
“Oh—oh, you’re right. Silly of me, isn’t it? Thank you, love,” she murmured, carefully untucking it.
Lumina gave a tiny shrug and turned half away, fussing with the frilled hem of her cape. “Mhm.” Her hum resumed, this time quieter, though Celeste knew her sister well enough to see the tension in her shoulders.
It had been months since they’d last spent more than an awkward lunch together. And now, here they were—two flame-point ragdoll cats dressed in magical girl costumes that matched in spirit, if not in style, about to step into a whirlwind of fandom, nostalgia, and way too many camera flashes. Celeste wore a flowing blue astral tunic adorned with tiny dangling stars, a constellation come to life, with dark blue shorts underneath for comfort. Beside her, Lumina was in a cherry pink dress with a heart-shaped emblem at the collar and a flared red skirt layered beneath it, every inch the classic magical heroine.
Celeste swallowed hard and looked at the massive glass doors ahead. Fans in feathers, scales, and fur filled the courtyard in dazzling arrays of color and chatter. The buzz was electric—dreams made real for a weekend.
She was nervous. Nervous about the crowd. Nervous about being seen. But mostly nervous about Lumina.
Was this the start of reconnecting… or just a mistake dressed up in glitter and sequins?
“I don’t even know if I belong here,” Celeste murmured, almost to herself, eyes still on the glittering glass doors ahead.
Lumina glanced sideways, her ears twitching beneath her gem-studded headband. “Me neither. But… maybe that’s the whole point.” She pronounced those last two words with deliberate weight, like she’d been saving them up
The queue crept forward, each shuffle of paws and hooves bringing Celeste closer to the security gate—and to the glinting scanner arch just beyond it.
Overhead, a voice crackled through the tannoy, cold and officious: “For the safety of all, the Council has made it clear: only those with Council-approved mana suppressor chips will be admitted. Unless written consent is provided, no exceptions will be permitted. The Eye of the Council is ever watching.”
A murmur rippled down the line—some nodding grimly, others fidgeting with their collars or sleeves where the chips might lie hidden.
Up ahead, a pureblood hamster waddled up with a smug grin, dragging a sparkly suitcase and chatting loudly on her wristband comm. She didn’t even pause at the scanner—just waved and walked through.
“VIP pass, obviously,” she huffed, not even looking at the guards. “Daddy donated to the restoration fund. You’re welcome.”
The scanner lit green. No questions. No hesitation.
Behind Celeste, a voice piped up nervously, “D-do we need to be scanned too?”
Another answered with a scoff, “It’s fine. Purebloods don’t have mana, so they don’t need chips. Different rules.”
A third snorted under their breath, “At least we aren’t hybrids. They’ve got those runes slots burned into the backs of their necks. Look awful, don’t they?”
The words pricked Celeste’s ears, each one heavier than the last.
Celeste swallowed.
Then, the next in line—a tall, teenage phoenix, radiant with flame-kissed feathers and nervous eyes—stepped up. His wings were folded tight, his hands visible, his smile small but hopeful.
The scanner flickered red. A harsh beep.
Two guards stepped forward immediately.
“Sorry,” one said flatly. “We can’t admit unstable mythics without council approval. You’ll need to return with certification.”
“What?” the phoenix stammered, taking a step back. “I’m not unstable! I’ve been cleared—look, I’m not a danger!”
A third guard’s paw hovered near a stun baton. “Sir. Step aside.”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Some looked away. Others muttered.
The phoenix’s feathers dimmed, light curling inward like shame.
“It’s not fair,” he whispered, eyes brimming. “She walked right in.”
“She’s a pureblood,” one guard replied coolly. “You’re not.”
Celeste felt her jaw tighten.
The line moved again.
And yet the weight in her chest stayed exactly where it was.
“Almost there,” Lumina said softly, more to herself than anyone else. She shifted her wand on her hip, humming again, the note wobbling just slightly.
Celeste’s ears flattened. “Mm… I wish I didn’t feel like my stomach was doing somersaults.”
Ahead, a chubby red panda in a mech suit costume stepped into the archway. A flicker of green light swept over his neck, where a glimmer of silver marked the embedded microchip. The scanner chirped, a polite tone, and the panda was waved through with a cheerful “Enjoy the con!”
It all looked routine. Painless. Casual.
But not for them.
Celeste’s eyes flicked to the narrow metal booth beside the scanner—one staffed by a uniformed civet with a screen she didn’t need to see to know what it displayed: identity, registration, chip status, and Species Classification.
Hybrid. Feline/Mythical – Class: Magic Affinity.
That last part always brought a twitch to the nose, a flicker of suspicion in the eyes. Like the word magic was the same as danger.
Her paw tightened around her wand, now little more than a prop. The chip in her neck—smooth, invisible, but always there—suppressed her magic. It muted her senses, dimmed the way she used to feel the world: the pull of stars, the hum of light, the way emotions rippled like tides across others' fur.
The rune silenced all of it. For everyone’s safety, they always said.
Her parents had ensured she and Lumina were marked as “high-status exceptionals”—coded with enough bureaucratic shielding to avoid the worst of the scrutiny. But that didn’t stop the whispers. Or the eyes that lingered too long. Or the quiet, biting fear that one day the exception wouldn’t be enough.
Council droids stood guard at the entrance, chrome-plated and gleaming under the hall lights. Their frames were modeled after Victorian police officers, but there was nothing human in the way they moved—stiff, jointed metal with polished helmets and long arms bristling with concealed mechanisms. Twin laser ports glowed faintly in their wrists, ready but silent. Their glass-green eyes swept across the waiting line, scanning every face without a word.
When the machines detected someone not on the list, the glow in their eyes shifted to crimson. No noise, no fuss—just a cold flicker as they updated the doors not to admit the trespasser. The denied simply found the gate refusing to open, the droids unmoving, as if the judgment had already been passed.
The scanner was just two more bodies away.
“You okay?” Lumina asked, quieter now, her hum fading out.
Celeste gave a small nod. “Yes, yes—just… breathing through it, sweetheart.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I hate this bit too,” Lumina admitted, her voice small. “Even when nothing bad happens. It’s like waiting for a boo-jump in a scary movie.”
That made Celeste look at her, really look. “Oh, my heart… you’re nervous as well, aren’t you?”
Lumina’s tail twitched, and she gave a half-grin that didn’t last long. “Mhm.” Beneath the glitter and ribbons, Lumina’s tail was twitching ever so slightly. Not from impatience—but from anxiety. So I’m not the only one.
The gate beeped again. The guest ahead of them passed through.
Now it was Lumina’s turn.
She stepped forward. The green scan-line passed over her neck. There was a flicker—too long to be smooth, too short to call out. The civet looked up, his eyes scanning, then nodded.
“Approved. Move along.”
Celeste exhaled—only to suck the air back in as she stepped up.
She tilted her head slightly, exposing her neck. The scan hit.
It burned—not physically, but somewhere deeper. The faintest shudder crawled up her spine, a distant echo of her magic pushing against its invisible cage.
The reader stuttered.
Beep. Beep. Beep… click.
The civet’s eyes narrowed.
Celeste froze.
“Name?” he asked.
“Celeste Astallan,” she whispered, voice catching slightly. “Um… sir.”
He blinked. His gaze dropped to the monitor. Recognition flickered. Then discomfort. Then forced neutrality.
“You’re clear,” he said, too quickly. “Enjoy the convention.”
Celeste stepped through and her paw brushed against Lumina’s. Lumina looked up at her with wide eyes, then let out a tiny hum — the same tune she’d been humming before. No words, but Celeste’s soft smile was enough of an answer.
They were in.
But magic or not, they both knew the real weight they carried wasn’t in their wands, or in the past they shared—it was in the way this world looked at them.
And today, for better or worse, it was about to see them.
Chapter 2 : Sparkle and Static
The convention floor unfolded like a storybook mid-spell — towers of merchandise, spirals of banners, and fans in sparkling, surreal costumes everywhere she looked. Celeste had to pause just inside the entrance, blinking to let her eyes adjust. The light here shimmered off sequin capes and holographic armor, pulsing with the bassy hum of music drifting from the main stage.
She scanned the crowd, her paw shielding her eyes from a flickering LED display above the Crystal Hall of Fandoms. She was looking for someone—a familiar-unfamiliar shape.
Leif, the lynx from her MythoSoc class. They’d never met in person; their connection had started months ago when she accidentally sent him her essay draft instead of the professor. He’d read it, responded with three pages of annotated commentary, and somehow a friendship had bloomed from there—half academic banter, half meme exchanges. They’d talked ever since, discussing magical theory, fandom tropes, and the role of media in hybrid representation. He said he’d be cosplaying as a genderbent Sir Vireon from Stormbond Saga. She had no idea what that would look like exactly, but she was sure she’d recognize his energy when she saw it.
Next to her, Lumina was silent, clutching the handle of her sparkling heart-shaped purse. Her boots clicked against the polished floor in nervous little steps.
“Do you remember,” Celeste began, a soft smile tugging at her lips, “when we pretended the couch cushions were cloud islands? You’d make us leap between them or be banished to the lava pits.”
Lumina blinked, humming faltering.
“You even had a wand made from a curtain rod,” Celeste added warmly. “Princess Pyra, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry,” Lumina said gently, not meeting her eyes. “I know you're trying. But it’s just... not there. I don’t remember that. And it kind of hurts trying to.”
Celeste’s ears drooped, her smile faltering.
“Oh—oh, of course. I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have—”
They stood there for a moment, the pulse of con-goers flowing around them like a river around two stones.
Then—BOOM.
“Guess whooo~!”
A weight hit Celeste’s shoulders, and she shrieked, leaping nearly a foot off the ground.
Whipping around, her eyes wide and fluffed tail a full banner behind her, she came face-to-face with a grinning tabby cat in a mesh hoodie and cargo boots. A glittery badge labeled her Melody, with the tagline: Chaotic Neutral, Mostly Harmless.
“Melody!” Celeste hissed, trying to compose herself. “You can’t just ambush people like that! Honestly, some of us have fragile constitutions.”
Melody tilted her head, unfazed. “Fragile constitutions? Cel, you dress like a gemstone exploded. If you want to be incognito, maybe ditch the tiara.”
Celeste straightened, hands on her hips, trying to recover her poise. “I’ll have you know, this is a highly accurate recreation of Elira's Gala Ascension Outfit. And—”
Before Celeste could retort, Melody’s eyes flicked to the other girl beside her.
“Who’s your sparkle twin?”
Celeste’s voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close. “That’s Lumina. She’s kind of important. Just, um… be gentle? She’s had some memory loss—car accident a while back.”
“I can hear you,” Lumina cut in, blinking up at her.
“It’s okay,” Lumina added softly, not quite smiling. “You were just trying to help.”
“What are you even supposed to be?” Melody interrupted, smirking. “Cosplaying as a discount fairy trio from a cereal commercial?”
Celeste flushed beneath her fur.
“We are the Magi Girls 3,” she declared with as much dignity as she could muster. “From Starlight Covenant: Season Five. I’m Elira, Lumina is Solenne, and we’re... well, the third one is a plush keychain in my bag because we couldn’t convince anyone else to join us.”
Melody snorted. “Ohhh right. The season where they all become space princesses with feelings and shoot glitter lasers at metaphorical trauma. Deep stuff.”
“We like it,” Lumina piped up, voice firm but tiny. She puffed her cheeks for emphasis.
Celeste looked at her, surprised—and weirdly touched.
Melody rolled her eyes, raising her paws in surrender. “Alright, alright. Don’t vaporize me with your emotional catharsis beams.”
Then, more casually: “Anyway, I saw a tall lynx guy by the vendors talking someone’s ear off about magical resonance crystals. Might be your mystery penpal.”
Celeste’s heart skipped.
Without thinking, she grabbed Lumina’s paw and started weaving through the crowd. “Come on, sweetheart. If he’s here, I want to say hi—before I lose my nerve.”
Behind them, Melody called out, “Don’t trip over your cape, Magi Girl Prime!”
Celeste didn’t reply.
She did, however, trip.
Only to collide shoulder-first with someone — and somehow, it was graceful.
“Oh!” she gasped, stumbling back.
The figure she’d bumped into turned smoothly, regarding her with calm, amused turquoise eyes. He was tall—strikingly so—and dressed in a deep violet jacket, sharp and perfectly tailored, every button in place. A crisp white cravat lay tucked at his collar, giving him an air of scholarly drama. His thick white Maine Coon fur shimmered faintly in the overhead lights.
“My fault entirely,” he said, voice rich and dry. “Though I’ll admit, this is the most charming ambush I’ve suffered all morning.”
Celeste blinked. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
He held up a paw elegantly. “No need to apologise. If anything, you’ve made my morning more interesting.” His eyes twinkled. “Your Magi Girl Prime is exquisite — the stars themselves would send petitions for such tailoring.”
Celeste giggled, flustered. “Thank you, Charming. Yours is… incredible, too. Who are you cosplaying?”
His eyes brightened with theatrical pride. “Dr. Witchwood, naturally. Dragons of Termina 2, re-release edition. They finally restored his collar enchantment in the remaster — a crime it was missing in the first place.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! That’s perfect! You really nailed the vibe.”
He gave a small, pleased bow. “Naturally. One must commit to excellence or not bother at all.”
He stepped aside gracefully, letting the crowd flow around them again. “If you're hunting for rare merch, there’s a vendor down the next aisle selling enchanted replicas. I’d hurry before the truly tasteless grab the last of the good stock.”
“Oh—thanks!” Celeste smiled, caught off-guard by the encounter.
He gave her a two-fingered salute and turned, already blending back into the stream of con-goers. “Good luck, Magi Girl. May your crystals resonate and your eyeliner remain sharp.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Lumina leaned in. “Who was that?”
“I… no idea,” Celeste murmured. “But I kind of want his backstory.”
Chapter 3 : Dogs with Badges & Business Cards
The vendor halls were chaos incarnate — booths bursting with plushies, holographic posters, enamel pins, and enough body glitter to blind a small city. Celeste barely had time to process any of it. Her eyes were locked on the crowd ahead, scanning for lynx ears and the faint shimmer of a Sir Vireon-style cape.
“He’s got to be around here somewhere,” she murmured, tail flicking in focused arcs.
“Watch out—!” Lumina said a second too late.
They collided chest-first into a broad, white-furred torso — and stumbled back in unison.
“Ah-HA! Suspicious movement detected!”
Celeste blinked, then looked up into the beaming, mismatched eyes of a dalmatian wearing a convention security vest that was at least one size too tight and had a comically large walkie-talkie clipped to each shoulder. He had a mop of tousled black and red curls tied back in a halfhearted ponytail, and his name tag read: MEZZO.
He leaned in dramatically, snout twitching.
“Two magically dressed felines—glancing around like yer plotting a heist? Classic behavior.” He lowered his voice. “Are ye trying to steal the giant plush hydra from the raffle booth? Because if so, I’ll need in. Those things are collector’s edition.”
Celeste opened her mouth, closed it again.
“No?” she managed, completely thrown off. “Um—no? Stars, no, we just… bumped into you.”
Mezzo squinted suspiciously at them, nose wriggling.
“Hmm. That’s what they all say. ‘Oh, we’re just Magi Girls with tragic backstories, prancin’ about with tiaras and trauma beams, no crimes here!’” He leaned closer to Lumina. “But tell me this: which season? If it’s post-Revelation Arc, I knew there was somethin’ shady afoot.”
Celeste straightened her shoulders, trying to salvage some dignity. “Excuse me, Sir, but we’re doing nothing wrong. We’re simply here to enjoy the convention, same as everyone else.”
“Ohhh, I know,” Mezzo said, eyes wide in mock horror. “That’s what makes it dangerous! Happiness, contentment… sinister stuff.”
Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached into a pocket and produced a glitter-laminated flyer from seemingly nowhere.
“BUT! That aside. You two clearly appreciate talent, aesthetics, and emotional storytelling through impractical outfits, so—”
He thrust the flyer at them with both paws.
“BUT! Seein’ as you clearly appreciate artistry and emotional storytelling in impractical outfits—” He thrust it into Celeste’s paw. “Tonight. Eight sharp. Mezzo & The Minor Keys. It’s just me, a guitar, and twelve minutes of pure unholy shreddin’. Ye’ll either ascend to a higher plane or leave with mild tinnitus. Maybe both!”
Celeste took the flyer like it was evidence in a crime she hadn’t committed.
“Oh—um—well, we’ll… consider it?” she said weakly.
“Brilliant!” Mezzo saluted, grinning. “Don’t break me heart now. I will cry in public. I’ve got range!”
Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd like some sort of musical cryptid.
There was a long silence.
Lumina stared at the flyer. Then up at Celeste. “…Was he… real?”
And for the first time since stepping into the con, they both giggled, shoulders lightening. For just a moment, the magic wasn’t only in their costumes.
Celeste gave her pigtails a quick fluff, adjusting the little gemstone clips that kept them neatly coiled just above her shoulders. She was starting to feel like herself again—nerves fading with every passing minute, despite the occasional bump from excitable cosplayers and vendors hawking glowing drinks that probably weren’t FDA approved.
Then she saw it.
Just beyond the rainbow wall of plushies and keychains, a soft glimmer caught her eye—a blue newsboy cap, nestled on a velvet mannequin head, edged with gold embroidery and featuring gold stars. On either side: tiny, delicate angel wings, crafted from glittered foamcore, just like in Season One of Magi Girls 3 when Elira first unlocked her celestial powers.
Celeste gasped aloud.
“Oh my stars—it’s the Arc Initiation Cap!”
She made a beeline for the vendor booth, barely noticing Lumina trailing behind. The seller, a sleepy-looking lemur in a Rarewears & Relics hoodie, perked up as she approached.
“Whoa, good eye,” he said, lifting the cap carefully. “Most people think it’s just a weird steampunk thing.”
“This is from Elira’s first major transformation scene!” Celeste said, breathless. “Episode four—she trades her old headband for this before facing down the Grief Beast in the Library of Lights. It’s iconic.”
“You got taste,” the lemur said, grinning. “Forty quid, and I’ll even throw in a badge pin with her sigil.”
Celeste was already digging in her purse, glowing with excitement—when a shadow fell across the booth.
The lemur vendor had just named his price when a deep, booming voice cut in from behind.
“Forty quid for THAT?”
Celeste startled, ears flicking back.
“You could buy a water filter and six weeks of rations for that!” the voice continued, rich with theatrical gravitas.
She turned. A tall, grey-furred wolf loomed there in a trench coat that seemed designed to swallow light, a battered tactical pack slung at his shoulder. His hood shadowed most of his face, but his grin gleamed through like stage lighting.
He extended a paw dramatically.
“Pitch. E. Blak. Survivalist. Strategist. Builder of bunkers both practical and emotionally resonant.”
He gave her an exaggerated wink. “Didn’t expect the resistance to have THIS much style, blondie.”
Celeste blinked, paw halfway to her purse. “Oh—I, ah—hello?”
Pitch leaned in, dropping his voice into mock-conspiracy mode. “Tell me. Ever think about what happens when the suppression chips fail? That little soda can of magic you’ve got bottled up? Psshhhht—” he mimed a can exploding with both hands, “—straight in your face!”
Celeste’s mouth opened, then closed again. “I—I hadn’t exactly—”
“I have,” Pitch boomed, chest puffing as if onstage. “First it’s regulation, then restriction, then BAM—riot bots in the streets and ration lines for toothpaste!”
Lumina hummed a little note, head tilted. “Do you… talk like this all the time?”
Pitch turned, lowering himself to her eye level with a big smile. “Oh, absolutely. Builds morale. Keeps the vibes UP.”
Celeste folded her arms, still flustered. “And… the toothpaste?”
Pitch’s grin widened. “That part’s real. But don’t worry—” he leaned in closer, voice dropping to mock-seriousness, “I’ve got a stash. Mint. Because survival doesn’t have to taste terrible.”
The vendor coughed. “So… are you buying the hat or…?”
Pitch straightened, threw an arm toward Celeste like he was introducing royalty. “Buy it. A stylish headpiece increases morale by twenty-seven percent. Scientific fact. Probably.”
Celeste quickly passed over her coins, tucking the cap into her bag with both paws. “Right. Lovely. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse us, we really must—lots to see, ha ha—goodbye!”
She grabbed Lumina and hustled into the crowd, cape flying behind her like a retreating heroine.
Pitch cupped his paws to his muzzle and bellowed after them:
“REMEMBER! When the vending machines go silent—that’s the FIRST SIGN!”
They didn’t look back.
Ahead, the crowd thickened, buzzing with energy. Music thumped from hidden speakers. A ring of screens began to flicker with countdowns and graphics. The main stage lights swirled to life.
Something big was about to happen.
And Celeste—hat now tucked safely under her arm, mind spinning—couldn’t help but feel like she was standing at the edge of something important.
Even if part of her still smelled vaguely like Pitch’s forest-mint survival cologne.
Chapter 4 : Zygurr
The main stage shimmered with dazzling lights and glitter cannons firing bursts of rainbow mist into the air. Animated characters danced across massive LED screens in looped trailers: knights with glowing swords clashing against brain-hungry, neon-green zombies. At the center was the bright, stylized logo for Nommie Zombies vs. Mythic Knights, and under it all, the unmistakable tagline of Zygurr Incorporated:
“Chew the Future!”
Celeste wrinkled her nose. “Subtle.”
“Looks expensive,” Lumina murmured.
A booming, upbeat voice filled the air.
“AND DON’T FORGET—CLAWS OUT FOR CANDY!
BONBON GIVEAWAYS ALL WEEKEND, COURTESY OF ZYGURR!”
A mountain of kids were already swarming toward the booth at the foot of the stage, many in cardboard helmets or zombie makeup. Just as Celeste and Lumina started heading that way, a clump of small bodies rushed past them, nearly knocking them sideways.
One of them—a toddler panda in an oversized mask shaped like a sparkly rabbit — stumbled to the ground, letting out a confused wail.
“Oh! Hey, hey—it's okay,” Celeste said, immediately crouching to help. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
The little panda blinked up at her, teary but unharmed, and tugged her mask off to breathe. Before Celeste could say more, a panting mother with wild fur and frantic eyes shoved through the crowd.
“Cariad! Mae’n ddrwg gen i!” she gasped, scooping her child up into her arms. “Diolch—rili. Sori, sori—ro’n i wedi edrych drosti hi—”
Celeste could only nod as the panda mum offered one last breathless “Diolch yn fawr” and disappeared into the crowd, the toddler now babbling happily against her shoulder.
Lumina hummed a little tune under her breath, then said bluntly, “That was… a lotta chaos. Like, boom-crash.”
Celeste let out a small laugh, brushing fur from her skirt. “Aye, Sweetheart, it was. But everyone’s alright, thank the stars.” She straightened and pointed gently toward the booth. “Come on, love. Let’s see about that candy before it all disappears.”
At the foot of the stage, the candy giveaway was being manned by the least enthusiastic fox Celeste had ever seen. Her hair was dyed in streaks of dusty black and violet, eyeliner smudged from either fashion or despair—it was unclear—and her oversized Zygurr Incorporated hoodie hung off one shoulder like even her clothes were over it.
The fox—Ray, according to her crooked nametag—didn’t even look up as she half-heartedly tossed a sealed bag of glittery pink-and-green bonbons at Celeste.
““Here. Enjoy your dose of corporate joy. Don’t choke.” Ray mumbled, monotone. Her voice had the exact defeated cadence of someone who’d handed out candy to hyper children for eight hours and now existed solely out of contract obligation and spite.
“Thanks,” Celeste said hesitantly, catching the bag.
Lumina got one too, a little more gently. The wrapper was shiny and loud, emblazoned with zombified monsters and knights chomping on rainbow swords.
Celeste popped one into her mouth before she could talk herself out of it.
And instantly regretted it.
The flavor was... indescribable. Like sour strawberry bubblegum dipped in cough syrup and sprinkled with burnt plastic. Her stomach turned sharply.
Lumina had already spat hers into a napkin. “What was that?”
“I—think my tongue’s dissolving,” Celeste choked, clutching her stomach. “Okay, no. That cannot be safe.”
She marched back to the booth.
“Excuse me,” she said to Ray, who was now scrolling on her phone while mechanically tossing bonbon bags to passing kitsune twins.
Ray didn’t look up. “They’re made from seventy-two percent sustainable glitter. Side effects include fun. Next.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “It actually says that?”
Ray sighed like someone remembering the good old days before capitalism. She flicked her lanyard badge, letting it spin.
“I dunno. It’s in the employee script. ‘Smile, deliver product, downplay nausea.’ Blah blah blah. You want a refund? It’s free.”
Celeste crossed her arms. “Still. If something’s making people feel sick, shouldn’t you report it to someone?”
Ray finally looked up—her eyes half-lidded, dry as a desert. “Blondie, I’m not management. I’m the candy goblin. They pay me in coupons and trauma.”
Celeste pointed at her badge. “Ray, right? Then Ray, Is there some manager or supervisor i could talk to? Just to get the ingredient list?.”
Ray sighed again. This time, it was deeper—like she was exhaling her will to live.
“Fine. If you want to file a formal complaint about candy, you can find a Zygurr brand ambassador at Booth E2 near the merchandise vault. They’re the ones with the chrome suits and dead eyes. Can’t miss ‘em.”
“Thanks,” Celeste said curtly, already turning to leave with Lumina.
Ray called after them, voice dull as dirt.
“Good luck. And remember—chew responsibly.”
Celeste muttered under her breath, “I’d rather chew gravel.”
Ray chuckled once, low and short, before tossing another bag at a shrieking kid.
As they pushed back through the crowd, her stomach still gurgling uneasily, a chill prickled up her spine.
Something about those bonbons wasn’t right.
And knowing Zygurr Incorporated’s reputation for shady biotech licensing, she had the uneasy feeling this wasn’t just a bad batch.
This could be something worse.
The air near the stage pulsed with light and bass beats, but for a brief moment, everything slowed down.
Celeste pulled Lumina into the frame of her crystal phone’s camera, fluffing her sister’s messy bangs before striking a graceful magical pose with her. The screen flashed. A perfect shot.
“Our first selfie as sisters,” she said softly, smile curling at the edges of her mouth as she peeked at it. “Oh, Lumi—you’ve been amazing today. Seven years old—seven!—and you’ve handled a convention better than half the adults I know.”
Lumina looked up with wide eyes, her cheeks pinking slightly. And then—slowly, shyly—she smiled. Not the polite, careful ones she wore like a mask, but a real one. A small spark of sunshine.
Celeste’s heart swelled.
But then, without warning—everything changed.
It started in her spine. A weird, humming pressure. Then heat. Like static electricity tangled with a wildfire, shooting down her limbs and making her tail flick involuntarily. Her fur stood on end.
“L-Lumina—?” she gasped, turning just as Lumina hunched forward slightly, blinking hard and holding her arms like they ached.
“I feel… hot,” Lumina murmured, humming a broken little tune before whispering, “and all… tingly.”
Celeste’s breath caught. She knew that feeling. It wasn’t sugar. Stars, no—it was something far more dangerous.
A few feet away, she spotted someone else reacting the same way.
Mezzo—the dalmatian security guard—was gripping the edge of a metal crowd gate, breathing hard. His badge tilted sideways, revealing the stylized glyph etched into the background behind his name. A hybrid marker.
He met her gaze for just a second. She knew then: he felt it too.
“CEL-LESTE!” came a shout.
Melody—vibrant tabby tail bouncing—came sprinting over, holding a torn-open candy bag in one paw, half-eaten sweets in the other.
“Did you try these?!” she beamed, eyes glittering. “They’re like—chewy starlight. I could eat a dozen!”
Celeste blinked, trying not to show the unease brewing in her gut. “Uh... they kind of made me feel weird, actually.”
Melody raised a brow. “Weird like good weird? Or weird like ‘oops I licked a plasma battery’?”
“Closer to the second one.”
Before Melody could comment, a shouting match broke out nearby.
Mezzo had moved into a group of rough-looking teenagers near the stage wall, trying to quiet them down. But one of them—a fox with spiked bracelets—grabbed Mezzo’s badge and read it aloud with a mocking grin.
“‘Hybrid division’?” he snorted. “So what, you glow in the dark or something? Yeah, nah—we don’t gotta listen to magic freaks.”
The others laughed and shoved past him, nearly knocking over a signboard. Mezzo didn’t react beyond a tight jaw and clenched paws.
He smoothed his vest, tried to smile.
But Celeste saw it: the wear. The practice of pretending. The pain of being tolerated but never fully respected.
“Assholes,” Melody muttered under her breath, clearly having caught the tail end of it.
Celeste’s tail bristled, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Not yet.
“Hey,” Melody said brightly, trying to steer things back. “There’s a gaming room upstairs. Wanna check it out? Could be a better place to meet your penpal—quieter, plus the air conditioning up there doesn’t smell like bubblegum regret.”
Celeste hesitated. The static inside her hadn’t stopped humming. She knew it could spiral if she lost control—if her magic surged in a crowd. They were hybrids. If someone noticed...
But Lumina had already started climbing the steps, candy bag forgotten.
Celeste followed.
Upstairs, the room was darker, lit mostly by flickering old monitors and the glow of retro arcade cabinets lining the walls. A few kids in cosplay huddled around open card game mats, controllers clicked like quiet mechanical insects, and the low thrum of chiptune music set a nostalgic atmosphere.
That’s when she saw him.
A lynx, tall and relaxed in a denim jacket patched with RPG logos, leaned over a pixelated arcade screen, playing a classic fighter game with focused ease.
Next to him stood two others:
—A brown teenage hedgehog with glasses and worn goggles pushed up onto his forehead and a rumpled lab coat full of button pins that said things like “I INVENTED THAT!” and “Trust me, I’m 90% sure!”
—And an eight-year-old fennec fox, petite but confident, dressed in a sleek blue jumpsuit with reinforced knees and a glowing card duel device strapped to his wrist like it belonged there. His tail flicked as he stared at a holographic display spinning just above the deck.
Celeste’s heart thudded.
That had to be him. The lynx. Her penpal. The one she’d traded theories with for months online under the name “Glitch_Stitch.”
He looked... cooler than she expected. But the warmth behind his posture told her this wasn’t some aloof stranger.
He glanced up from the machine, ears twitching.
And their eyes met.
Celeste felt something shift.
Chapter 5 : The Wrong First Impression
Celeste paused at the edge of the room, brushing imaginary lint from her pale jumper dress, its star-patterned trim glinting under the flickering arcade lights. Her long star-sleeved coat swept gently behind her, and she adjusted the fit of her blue newsboy hat—newly bought and already precious.
Everything in her posture straightened, prim and trained, as though her father’s voice echoed in her head: Posture is presence, Celeste. Don’t fidget. Don’t stumble.
But halfway across the room, her ankle turned just slightly on the edge of a scuffed game mat.
She caught herself, rolled her eyes, and let go.
She took a breath and deliberately loosened her shoulders. Each step forward was still elegant—but there was a slowness to it, a hesitation. The kind that came from trying to unlearn something that had been drilled in too deep.
When she reached the group, she clasped her hands and gave a polite smile.
“Um—hullo,” she said softly, ears flicking. “Sorry, I don’t mean to… intrude. I was just—ah—I’m looking for my penpal? We’ve been messaging under the name Nebuluna. He said he’d be near the arcade machines, if that’s alright?”
The brown hedgehog lounging on the floor was the first to respond.
He stood up—slowly, smugly—as if gravity itself bowed to his own importance.
“That would be me,” he said smoothly, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel. “Arcade. Yes, like the machines. Ironic, really—I’m considerably more complex than flashing lights and bad programming. Still, it’s a name with flair.”
Celeste blinked. “Oh! I—I thought you’d be—well, the lynx, perhaps? Sorry. That was silly of me.”
“You assumed tall, angular, tragic cheekbones?” Arcade smirked, folding his arms. “Predictable. Everyone does. Never the hedgehog with inconvenient genius and an overwhelming sense of style.”
He gave her a cool once-over. “Truth be told, I half-expected you to be a Siamese. Or perhaps a Korat—something sleek, academically threatening.”
Celeste opened her mouth, heat rising in her ears, but he cut her off with a casual wave.
“Still, a ragdoll cat—unexpected. And very... bold of you to come in full cosplay. I respect the courage.”
Celeste’s eye twitched. She tried—really tried—not to snap.
“Actually,” she said through her primmest voice, “Well—I mean—it was you who invited me, wasn’t it? I have the messages, if, um—if you’d like proof—”
“Nahhh,” he interrupted, tapping his temple. “I invited Nebuluna. No idea who Celeste is, but hey—con connections, right? The algorithm works in mysterious ways.”
He pointed to the fennec fox quietly standing nearby. “This is my cousin, Skye. He’s a dual-deck master. Hasn’t lost a match all day.”
Skye gave a small nod without looking up, his large ears twitching slightly as the holographic card device on his arm spun a vivid animation. His movements were minimal, controlled—almost too controlled. His soft humming suggested he was reciting something in his head.
Celeste smiled at him. “Hi, Skye.”
He glanced up briefly. “Your shoelace is untied,” he said, then added, “Also—hi.” He returned to his cards without explanation.
Celeste blinked, glancing at her perfectly tied boots. “Oh—um—thank you, Dear. I’ll, ah—keep an eye on it.”
Before Celeste could return to the awkwardness of whatever had just happened, Melody bounded in through the side door like a bright comet.
“Okay, don’t yell at me, but I brought more candy!” she announced, waving a half-full bag above her head like a trophy. “Stage fox totally caved—pretty sure she’s legally required to keep handing these out until I explode!”
She offered it out.
Arcade sniffed and stepped back. “No thanks. I tried one earlier. Made my sinuses buzz like I'd licked a fusion coil.”
Skye shook his head quickly. “Too bright,” he murmured. Then, matter-of-factly, “Like eating a flashlight.”
Melody blinked at him. “…That’s amazing. I have to have one now.”
She popped one in her mouth and chewed happily. “Yup. Exactly like a flashlight. But, like… in a fun way!”
Celeste looked down at the glowing sweets again, ears folding back. “Um… I don’t think that’s how they’re supposed to taste, love.”
Melody shrugged. “More for me.”
Celeste looked down at the sweets again. Still glowing faintly at the edges. Still wrong.
As they stood in the awkward circle of half-met introductions and sugar-fueled chaos, she glanced toward the arcade machine again.
But the lynx—the one she thought had been her penpal—was gone. No sound. No excuse. No goodbye. Just vanished.
Celeste’s brow furrowed. A sinking feeling nudged the back of her mind like a whisper.
What if he was her penpal after all? And what if he’d left because he recognized something in her... that he didn’t want to be associated with?
Lumina had found her way to the floor next to Skye, legs crossed and tail gently swishing with curiosity as she watched the fennec fox flip through his deck with practiced precision. He spoke very little—just enough to explain the mechanics—but Lumina listened closely. Her little fingers mimicked his shuffling, her soft pink dress pulled slightly over her paws.
“See?” he said quietly, placing a glittering card in her palm. “This one can evolve if the field is lunar-aligned. But only during a fusion turn.”
Lumina blinked. “How do I know if it’s lunar-aligned? Is there, like, a moon button?”
Skye pointed to a holographic meter glowing in the corner of the display. “Watch for that crescent symbol. That’s when it happens.”
“Ohhh…” Lumina leaned closer, humming a little tune. “Moon button.” She tapped the meter gently and giggled.
A small smile tugged at Skye’s lips, almost imperceptible, but there.
Celeste watched them with soft fondness, warmth in her eyes. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Sweetheart… you’re learning fast,” she murmured.
Arcade, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Melody, who was busy reorganizing her candy stash by flavor next to a row of console controllers.
“So, uh,” he said, gesturing toward her with a raised brow, “are you just a random cosplay tag-along, or...?”
Melody gasped dramatically. “Excuse you—I’m not a random NPC! We’re classmates. Illustration, second year. Celeste and I are sketch critique survivors.”
Arcade blinked once. “Really? She’s in illustration?” He tilted his head toward Celeste. “Didn’t peg you for the artsy type. Too earnest.”
“Yup. Celeste and I are both trying to survive Professor Talon’s sketch critiques without bursting into feathers.”
“Sketch critiques?” He looked between them, amused. “Didn’t expect her to be in illustration.”
Melody grinned wickedly. “She doesn’t think she’s pretentious enough to pass. But her magical girl portfolio? Adorable. Ten out of ten.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes. “Melody.”
“And she,” Melody continued, pointing at Celeste with a gummy candy wand, “once sent her whole assignment to the wrong email. Guess who got it?”
Arcade chuckled. “Me.”
Melody gasped in mock horror. “No.”
“Yup. She typed her address wrong by one letter. I graded it and sent it back with red marks and a note saying, ‘Excellent fluff, poor grammar.’”
Celeste squeaked. “Y-you did not! Oh stars, you two are dreadful. Ganging up on me like that.”
“Only because it’s fun,” Melody sang, twirling her candy like a baton. “Also because you make that scrunchy face when you’re flustered.”
“You’re making it now,” Arcade added dryly, lips twitching in amusement.
Celeste puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms. “I am not scrunching. …Am I?”
Lumina piped up from the floor, blunt as ever. “Yep. Face is scrunch. Like a walnut.”
Celeste buried her face in her paws. “Oh, brilliant. Thank you, all of you.”
Melody shoved a controller into her lap. “C’mon, scrunchy. Let’s race. If you win, we’ll stop teasing.”
“That’s a lie,” Celeste mumbled, though she grabbed the controller anyway, ears flicking red.
They settled at one of the consoles—a retro racer with magical mounts and glittery power-ups—and chose their avatars. Celeste picked a winged unicorn chariot, Melody a punk griffon, and Arcade a souped-up war boar on hoverwheels.
As the game began, Celeste glanced toward the kids again. Lumina was laughing now—light, brief, but unmistakable. Skye had shown her something clever in his deck that made her clap her paws excitedly. It warmed her.
Midway through the second race, Celeste turned toward Arcade during a loading screen.
“So… um—if it’s not rude to ask—why did you bring Skye to the con?” Her voice was gentle, hesitant. “I only brought Lumina because I thought… maybe it might help her come out of her shell a little.”
Arcade’s grip on his controller tightened just enough to notice.
“It’s complicated,” he said flatly, eyes still on the screen. Then, with a dismissive flick of tone: “Let’s… leave it at that.”
Celeste’s ears dipped. “Oh—right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
They returned to the game. But a new edge had entered his tone.
As the final lap kicked in, Melody was clearly in the lead, throwing banana peels and magical spark bombs with practiced ease. But her posture was starting to sag.
“Mel?” Celeste said softly, concern threading her voice. “You’re… um… looking a bit pale.”
“Huh? Oh, no, I’m good!” Melody blurted, blinking too hard. “Just, uh… maybe too many bonbons. They’re delicious but… y’know, kinda spinny.”
Celeste frowned, setting her controller aside mid-race. “Love, you really don’t look alright. Maybe you should—um—just sit for a bit?”
Her griffon avatar screeched over the finish line and exploded into digital confetti.
“YES! Eat my spark trail!” she whooped, then flopped back into the beanbag with a dizzy groan.
Celeste leaned in, worry deepening. “You okay? You’re not... tingling, are you?”
Melody cracked one eye open, voice faint but still trying for cheer. “No static. Just… spinny carnival stomach. Probably the sugar. Or the noise. Or both. Don’t look so serious, Cel, I’m not dying.”
Arcade arched a brow, finally glancing over. “You didn’t eat that many, did you?”
Melody gave a vague shrug. “Only like… six? Eight? Ten-ish?”
Skye, still seated by Lumina, murmured without looking up: “I told you. Too bright. Like eating a lightbulb.”
But that strange feeling from earlier—the static heat, the surge—it was still there. Just... quieter now. Like something waiting.
Chapter 6 : The Pulse
Celeste shifted her weight, glancing toward the hallway. The sound outside was changing—no longer cheerful chatter but a rising clamor, uneven footsteps and sharp voices. Her ears twitched.
“Um—what’s going on out there?” she asked softly, mostly to herself. “Why is everyone so… worked up?”
Melody, still slouched pale against the beanbag, waved her paw lazily.
“It’s that thing—y’know, the bonbon crossover deal.” She managed a wobbly grin. “Posters everywhere. Country’s been eating it up.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “What—like a game?”
“Yeah. You scan the barcodes, get a shiny zombie or knight in your collection. There’s even a leaderboard.” Melody gave a weak laugh. “Nommie Zombies: Mythic Reckoning. Tacky as hell. Fun though.”
Arcade had torn open one of the wrappers, holding it up to the light with an intensity better suited to relics.
“There’s no ingredient list,” he murmured. “No allergy warnings. No manufacturing stamp. Just the Zygurr logo and a grinning skull telling you it’s ‘Nommie Approved.’ Thoroughly dystopian.”
Celeste’s stomach tightened, ears flattening. “That doesn’t… sound very safe at all.”
A crashing thud echoed from the hallway. A chorus of startled yelps.
Celeste shot to her feet. “Oh stars—I should, um—I should check that out.”
But before she could move, Melody leaned forward suddenly, clutching her middle. Her ears drooped and her paw trembled against her chest.
“Whoa—no, no no—Melody?” Celeste knelt beside her instantly.
“I think... I’m gonna hurl,” Melody mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her whole body was shaking now. Beads of sweat clung to her fur, and her eyes fluttered like she was fighting to stay present.
“That’s it,” Celeste said, voice soft but firm with an edge of desperation. “We need to get you some fresh air, love. Come on.”
She turned to the table, fumbling for steadiness. “Lumina—um—stay right here, Sweetheart. Play a little longer with Skye for me, alright? I’ll be back before you notice.”
Lumina gave a tiny hum, nodding, though her ears twitched nervously. “’Kay. Don’t be gone forever.”
Skye looked up, blinking. “She’s overheating. Skin temperature up. Breathing irregular. Not sugar. Not just sugar.” He frowned, then added quietly, “Hallway’s bad, too. Loud. Dangerous.”
Arcade flicked his paw in a dismissive wave, still smirking faintly. “Unsportsmanlike to abandon mid-race, you know. But by all means—be heroic. Just don’t faint dramatically in the doorway; it’s tacky.”
Celeste supported Melody under the arm, helping her up. She felt like she was holding onto a furnace wrapped in trembling fluff. Each step toward the balcony doors felt heavier than the last, like the air was thickening with invisible syrup.
As they pushed through to the outside, the con’s artificial lights gave way to the cold sting of natural wind—but it didn’t help.
Because they weren’t alone.
The balcony was dotted with others—maybe a dozen con-goers, slumped against the railing or sitting in silence. Some clutched candy bags, others just stared out blankly at the city skyline of Clawdiff.
Melody gave a shaky little laugh, though her voice trembled at the edges. “I feel… really off. Like—worse than ‘oops-too-much-sugar’ off. What if I go full zombie right here? That’d be so meta.”
Celeste forced a soft chuckle, trying to keep her hands steady as she braced Melody’s weight. “Please don’t, love. I haven’t the constitution to be a main character in a survival horror.”
“Pfft. Imagine it though…” Melody wheezed, grinning faintly. “Me, the undead queen of ClawdiffCon. I’d still make it look cute.”
Celeste smiled at her—
Until the wind changed.
No. Not a wind.
It hit like a wall.
A pulse.
A screaming, vibrating pressure—like a whistle from the sky had pierced the clouds and was now inside her head.
The sound was more than sound—it was static and electricity and dread, all rolled together. It seared through her fur and bones and set every hybrid cell inside her sparking.
Then silence.
A sudden, dead, choking silence.
Celeste’s knees buckled. She hit the floor with a gasp, hands bracing herself against the concrete tiles. The sky above—once grey with summer haze—was turning. Hardening. The clouds melted into a strange pink sheen like crystallized glass. And from somewhere across the skyline, a roar echoed out—inhuman, unrelenting, like the entire sky was screaming.
Celeste clutched her chest. Her insides twisted. Her magic, long buried beneath the microchip’s suppression, flared against her will—like it wanted out.
“Melody?” she croaked, turning.
Melody wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t blinking.
“Mel?” Celeste reached out, tapped her friend’s shoulder.
Melody turned. Her mouth hung slightly open. Drool—thick, glowing, and blue—dripped down from the corner. Her eyes—pure white. Glassy. Like the soul behind them had packed up and left.
“...Mel?”
Celeste backed up a step.
All around them, the others on the balcony were shifting in place. Mouths slack. Eyes wide and glowing. Like something inside them had been... rewritten.
The promotional bonbons sat at their feet. Half-eaten. Glinting faintly in the hardening light.
Celeste’s breathing caught.
She didn’t whisper it—but she thought it, screamed it inside her head:
What is happening?
“This isn’t funny, Mel—p-please, come on now,” she begged, voice trembling as she backed away.
But Melody didn’t move.
Her white eyes shimmered under the warped pink sky, and that eerie, sticky drool was still sliding down her chin. Celeste’s foot hit something—an abandoned lanyard, maybe—and she stumbled.
That’s when the dog turned.
He’d been standing hunched over near the balcony railing, twitching violently. His fur had begun to change color—his black and white spots were warping, darkening, melting into a glossy texture.
Celeste blinked—and realized his body was solidifying, like wax or... licorice?
His snout opened unnaturally wide.
And he lunged.
“NOPE!” Celeste squeaked, darting sideways as teeth snapped where her neck had been. She bolted for the doors, heart battering her ribs.
But before she could reach them, hands grabbed her wrists and slammed her against the wall.
“Mel—!” Celeste’s breath hitched.
Melody’s face was inches from hers, lips peeled back in a snarl. Her skin shimmered—crinkling, tearing—as if layers of gaudy wrapping paper were peeling across her arms.
“Snap out of it!” Celeste begged, struggling. “Please, Mel, fight it!”
For the briefest second, Melody’s jaw trembled. Her eyes flickered, the monster’s glaze breaking into something raw. Her voice cracked through the paper crinkle of her skin.
“H-help… me…”
A shadow loomed. Another zombie—its jaw dripping caramel strings—stumbled toward Celeste, maw opening.
“No!” Celeste twisted violently, shoving herself sideways, wriggling free of Melody’s grip just as teeth snapped shut where her shoulder had been.
She burst through the doors, nearly tripping as she slammed into the corridor beyond.
The hallway stretched ahead, dim and warped, lined with peeling candy-crusted wallpaper. She didn’t dare look back.
The corridor was worse.
Screams echoed. Figures staggered and twitched. Some were writhing on the floor, others slamming into walls. Their movements weren’t right—too stiff, too hungry. Like puppets being controlled by someone who had forgotten how to be alive.
Celeste shoved past them, clutching her chest. “Come on—come on—please, where’s the room?!”
The hallway opened onto the indoor balcony above the main hall. She stopped for half a second—just enough to take in the chaos below.
People screamed and scattered around the stage. The once-cheerful con space now looked like a battleground, candy wrappers and prop swords scattered in the stampede. The sky beyond the massive glass windows was still that unnatural, hard pink.
Celeste’s eyes locked on Mezzo.
The dalmatian security guard stood in the middle of the mess, arms out in front of him, trying to reason with a short figure in a mask. The figure growled low and made a sudden snapping motion with its head.
“Alright there, lil’ guy, that’s a fierce costume, aye? Jeez, you’ll win the contest, no doubt. But biting—hah—that’s takin’ immersion too bloody far!”
He reached forward and gently lifted the child’s mask.
What he saw made him reel back with a yelp—then fall flat on his tail.
“Holy sweet motherlight a’ divine, that’s not a costume!!”
Celeste bolted down the nearby stairs, grabbed his paw, and hauled him up.
“RUN! Stars above, I don’t know what this is, but it’s not cosplay!”
Mezzo stumbled after her, nearly tripping over his boots. “Ye think I hadn’t noticed?! Don’t be orderin’ me about, lass—I’m not even on shift!”
Celeste yanked him along, ears flat, tail lashing. “Then at least run in my direction!”
They turned and sprinted together, darting past candy-warped figures and fallen displays.
Celeste’s only thought: Find Lumina. Find her now.
She burst into the gaming room with Mezzo close behind.
But the room was empty.
“Lumina?!” Her voice cracked. “Lumina, love, where are you?!”
Her wide eyes swept the room. “Arcade?! Skye?!”
Nothing.
Just a TV screen frozen on a paused game, and a few open card decks scattered across the floor.
Celeste’s voice cracked, small and breaking. “No, no, no—where are they?!”
She turned—and nearly screamed.
A paw grabbed her wrist.
She spun—ready to punch—but stopped.
It was Pitch E. Blak.
The grey wolf survivalist from earlier. His trench coat was even more dramatic up close, now flaring as he barricaded the door with a toppled table.
“I told you,” he said, voice gravel-deep, eyes steady. “Always be prepared. The world won’t wait for your doubts.”
“Pitch?!” Celeste stammered, wide-eyed. “What are you—why are you here?!”
He planted a chair under the handle, hands moving like he’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times. “Been tracking this candy rollout for weeks. Too neat. Too viral. Too… engineered.” His lip curled. “Didn’t like the smell of it. Knew it would break bad.”
Celeste shook her head furiously. “We can’t stay here—if Lumina’s out there—!”
“I’m making a stand,” Pitch said flatly, tugging a tactical flashlight and an energy drink from his coat like holy relics. “Always start with light and fuel. Buy time.”
“Bad idea!” Mezzo yelped, jabbing a finger toward the curtain. “Check yer bloody corners, wolf, there’s more in here!”
Celeste turned—and sure enough, behind the display screen, two figures stumbled forward, slow and sweet-scented.
Their mouths hung open in that same slack-jawed hunger.
One had what used to be a Monster backpack. The other still held a cosplay prop—a knight’s lance—but its plastic was melting in its hands.
Celeste froze.
Her brain screamed a dozen directions at once.
Fight? Run? Scream?
Her body locked— But her magic did not.
For a split second, something inside her chest flared—hot and bright and ancient. The rune suppression strained, and she felt something sharp, like static, surge through her fingertips.
Pitch’s sharp gaze flicked to the glow. He muttered, low: “You a hybrid?”
Celeste didn’t answer.
She didn’t know how.
Because her mind wasn’t on magic.
It was on Lumina.
And she was missing.
Chapter 7 : Signal Lost
Pitch’s ears flicked, eyes darting across the chaos. His flashlight beam jittered over broken screens, overturned cabinets, smoke and teeth. Nowhere. No way out.
His breath caught—then he saw it.
“Emergency exit!” Pitch barked, pointing to a red-lit door behind an arcade cabinet. “Move!”
They bolted.
Mezzo flung himself toward the exit, grabbing armfuls of random game controllers and flinging them backward like grenades.
“Ye shall not pass, Super Cat Kart style!” he cried, lobbing a steering wheel at a very confused zombie dressed as a space ranger. It bounced harmlessly off its head.
Celeste couldn't help it—she laughed. Just a short, breathless bark of disbelief.
She grabbed a foam sword from the floor and whipped it like a baton. “Take this, you sugary creeps!”
“Don’t encourage him,” Pitch muttered, reaching the exit.
He yanked the handle— And smacked straight into Ray.
The emo fox nearly bowled them over, eyes bloodshot but eyeliner flawless. She hissed, “What the hell—move! I’m not dying in a convention center!”
She stopped when she saw the horde behind him.
“Oh stars, it’s both sides now—” she whispered.
Behind her, more candy-twisted people poured in through the smoke—grinning, groaning, twitching. Their limbs stuck and popped like toffee being pulled. Some had lollipop shards embedded in their skin. One was dribbling what looked like strawberry syrup from their eyes.
Ray stumbled back into Pitch, eyes darting. “There’s no—there’s nowhere to go!”
Pitch swore, whipping out his flashlight like a holy relic. “Stand back. Gonna blind the beasts.”
He clicked it on— It flickered once— Then lodged itself in the slavering jaws of a gum-soaked hippo zombie that had lumbered out of the fray.
Crunch.
Sparks fizzled.
The beast sneezed a bubble the size of a pumpkin from its nostrils and grinned.
Pitch stared, utterly deadpan. “…I hate everything about today.”
Celeste was paralyzed.
She could feel it again.
That heat. That strange static fire under her skin—rising—pulsing.
Her Mana Suppression Rune flared. She cried out, clutching her arm as the pain shot up into her skull.
It was happening again. The suppression unit was struggling to hold something back.
“Lass—!” Mezzo called, trying to grab her paw.
But something else grabbed everyone’s attention first.
The wall exploded.
A brilliant blaze of cinnamon-red light tore through the far side of the building as a massive white candy dragon burst into the con.
Its body was woven like origami—paper scales folded over translucent sugar bones. Glowing veins pulsed beneath its surface, and it let out a roar that cracked glass.
With a great sweeping breath, it unleashed a jet of flame—bright, hot, and smelling vaguely of caramelized sugar.
The zombies lit up like matchsticks.
Then the dragon looked at her.
Right at Celeste.
Its yellow almond-shaped eyes didn’t just see her. They recognized her.
Celeste’s legs buckled slightly.
Why did it feel like she knew this thing?
But before she could even step forward— Another roar echoed. Deeper. Thunderous. Wrong.
Something even bigger, still unseen, shrieked from beyond the horizon.
The dragon’s gaze hardened.
It took one last look at Celeste— Then spread its paper wings and soared, tearing through the ceiling and into the strange pink sky.
And then the floor gave way.
“WATCH IT!” Pitch shouted.
The weakened boards crumbled beneath them.
Celeste, Pitch, and Ray fell into the dark below— Game screens and props followed like confetti in a collapsing carnival.
Celeste hit something soft. Then something hard.
Everything spun.
Dust.
Light. Candy wrappers. And the smell of smoke.
They’d landed somewhere below.
Celeste rolled onto her side, the breath wheezing from her lungs. Her coat was snagged, her tights torn, but she was alive.
She rolled onto her side, paw to her head, wheezing. “Is everyone—?”
“Alive?” Pitch answered, brushing sugar dust from his coat. His tone was as flat as the debris around them. “Barely.”
Ray pushed herself upright, fur bristling, eyeliner still a perfect slash across her glare. “We need light. Now. Before something else—”
A faint trail of glow shimmered along the floor like breadcrumbs—scattered bonbons, faintly pulsing.
Ray followed it, squinting, muttering under her breath. “Oh, of course. Horror-movie candy trail. This is fine. Totally fine.”
“Wait—don’t—” Celeste whispered, voice too soft, too late.
Too late.
The end of the trail moved.
The creature turned toward them—its veins glowing like neon tubes under skin, its slack jaw dripping syrupy drool.
Ray’s sarcasm cracked into raw panic. “Stars above—!”
She stumbled back, colliding with Celeste.
Celeste shoved forward on instinct, planting herself between Ray and the creature. Her voice trembled, but she forced it out anyway: “P-Pitch—the door!”
Pitch didn’t waste a heartbeat. His eyes flicked to the glow, using the zombie’s sickly shine as a lantern. “There!”
Using the zombie’s glow as a twisted lantern, he spotted a heavy metal door. They ran, the creature snarling behind them, footsteps sticky on the floor.
The door slammed shut—just as the zombie lunged.
Bang.
The room fell into stunned silence.
“Okay,” Ray gasped, paws on her knees. “I officially hate this convention.”
Pitch scanned the shadows, his voice low. “Don’t relax yet.”
They barely had a second to recover before Celeste’s heart sank again.
In the dim lighting of the next room— Hundreds of glowing shapes turned to face them.
“…Candy zombies,” Pitch muttered, voice dry as bone.
Ray bared her teeth. “We're screwed.”
But then—a sound.
A roar.
Loud. Deep. Distant. Inhuman.
The candy-infested husks all turned in unison, like puppets on a string.
They began shuffling away from Celeste and the others—drawn to something else.
Something louder.
Pitch didn’t wait. “Move. While they’re distracted.”
They crept between the hunched figures—tension so thick it crackled in the air.
Suddenly:
Ding.
The elevator pinged open.
Everyone froze.
A group of uninfected civilians exploded out of the lift, shrieking, running. Some zombies turned and gave chase, drawn by the noise.
But in the back of the lift, just as the doors began to close— Celeste’s heart caught in her throat.
“Lumina?!”
The little ragdoll cat blinked up, pressed tight between Skye and Arcade. “C-Celeste?!”
Celeste’s whole body surged forward. She scooped Lumina into her arms, hugging her like she could fold her inside her chest and keep her safe forever. “Oh, stars above, Lumi—you’re okay, thank goodness—you’re okay.”
Lumina stiffened. “I… please don’t do that.”
Celeste froze.
She pulled back, gently.
“Oh—sorry, I didn’t mean—I just—” She swallowed hard, ears low. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Arcade stepped forward, tone clipped, as though cutting the moment apart. “We don’t have time for a family drama episode. Those things will circle back once the roar dies.”
Skye, meanwhile, peered past them, muttering under his breath. “Elevators aren’t safe. Up and down, up and down, like lungs. Can’t breathe in a coffin with lungs.”
Ray squinted at him. “…What?”
Celeste brushed at her eyes quickly, setting Lumina down but keeping a paw on her shoulder. Her voice was soft, trembling, but firm: “He’s right. We—we can’t stay here.”
The elevator doors began to shut—
But a few zombies turned to face them. Not all had left.
“Hit the button!” Ray barked.
They all piled in.
The doors slammed just as claws slapped the outer panel.
A banging started—echoing in the small lift.
Everyone was panting.
The ascent was too slow.
Ray crossed her arms, back to the wall, tail twitching. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”
Pitch’s ears twitched, body poised like a coiled spring. When the doors hissed open, he raised his flashlight like a blade.
“Clear—for now.”
They spilled into a hallway.
Dim. Flickering lights. Tables overturned, candy scattered like breadcrumbs through ruin.
Pitch moved first. Ray guarded behind. Lumina clutched Skye’s paw like it was the last solid thing left in the world. He muttered rules under his breath, tapping at his card device like a broken prayer.
Arcade scribbled furiously in his notebook as they moved. “You know,” he said, voice a little too high, “this would be fascinating if it wasn’t absolutely horrifying.”
Then his phone rang.
A loud, obnoxious jingle.
Every zombie within hearing range turned instantly.
“MOVE!” Pitch snapped.
They sprinted. Arcade shoved the phone back into his pocket, fumbling to silence it.
Ahead—a door marked with the wheelchair symbol.
No time to think.
Ray didn’t hesitate. She kicked it open. “IN!”
They slammed it shut just as a candy-coated paw clawed at the jamb.
Inside, they tumbled into darkness and—
“Do you mind?” a voice barked.
Mezzo.
Sitting on the toilet, pants halfway down, magazine in hand.
There was a long pause.
“…No,” Ray muttered after a beat. “We really don’t.”
Pitch threw the lock. Outside, the growls pressed close, then drifted away.
Celeste slid down against the wall, drawing Lumina tight against her chest. Her voice shook even though she tried to sound strong: “I promise… we’re getting out of this. I swear it.”
Lumina said nothing.
But she didn’t pull away.
Arcade fumbled with his phone again. “Okay, okay… let’s see what the world thinks of this nightmare—”
Hours trapped in a disabled bathroom with barely any light and way too much nervous breathing had stripped everyone down to their rawest selves. The only sounds now were occasional knocks on the door—soft, erratic, always just long enough to spike the anxiety again.
“Alright,” Mezzo muttered, tail twitching. “That’s it. If this is another prank knock, I swear…”
He gently cracked the door open.
Everyone leaned in.
Nothing.
“I think it’s gone—” he started loudly.
Pitch, Ray, and Arcade all lunged at once to slam the door shut and press a paw or claw over Mezzo’s muzzle.
“Don’t yell, numbskull!” Ray hissed.
Mezzo, eyes wide and confused, nodded under their hands.
“Boared,” he mumbled once released, ruffling his hair. The black dye had mostly bled away, revealing a brilliant spiky red mop underneath.
He blinked down at his paws, now stained.
“Ack! What is this—?” He smudged it across his face, completely unaware.
Skye snorted first—his little laugh bubbling out, unexpected and soft. Arcade chuckled, then Celeste let slip a tiny giggle too. Even Lumina gave a quiet snort.
“What?” Mezzo asked, eyes wide and innocent. “Why are you all laughing?”
Ray shook her head, smirking. “You look like a melted popsicle with anger issues.”
Mezzo blinked. “…That’s oddly specific.”
He rubbed at the streaks again, then hesitated. His voice dropped, a little quieter.
“I’m a hybrid,” he admitted. “Been dying it darker so I don’t stand out as much for gigs. Pureblood venues don’t exactly welcome flame-drenched dalmatians.” He gave a weak grin. “I mean, yeah, I look fabulous—but, y’know. Gotta eat.”
There was a beat of silence—just long enough to feel the weight under the joke.
Arcade finally nodded, voice dry but sincere. “Yeah. We know the feeling.”
Skye gave a small nod too, gaze lowered.
Celeste shifted, her voice gentle but almost shy. “Mhm. We… we really do.”
Pitch tilted his head, tone edged with quiet curiosity. “I’m guessing you got your features removed too?”
Mezzo blinked, then sighed. “Yeah. When I was a baby. Guess that’s normal these days.” He gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m part gryphon. Really would’ve loved to keep the wings, but… the Council and the purebloods don’t like it when we don’t look too much like them. Gotta fit in. God forbid we look different.”
The heaviness lingered for a moment before Mezzo straightened, shaking it off with a grin. “But hey—so we’re all hybrids? That’s awesome! A full team of magical mutts!”
And Ray immediately slammed it back down.
“Try not to make a scene, idiot,” she hissed. “Some purebloods might be within earshot.”
Mezzo winced. “Right. Sorry. Whisper celebration. Go team mutts.”
Arcade stood up and dusted off his coat with a theatrical sigh. “Alright, we’ve now spent longer in this bathroom together than anyone should in a lifetime. I vote we at least learn each other’s names before we go stir-crazy and form a toilet cult.”
“Me first!” Mezzo perked up.
Ray groaned. “Of course you’d be excited.”
“Name’s Mezzo Swift,” he beamed. “Security officer, guitar enthusiast, licensed driver, and technically a professional adult. I once arrested a guy for smuggling ferret plushies.”
“Impressive,” Arcade said flatly. “And deeply disturbing.”
Before Mezzo could say more, Ray rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m Ray Tanllwyth. I work for Zygurr. Or did. As soon as there’s a clear path, I’m out of here.”
There was a small shuffle of movement as Celeste stepped forward next, adjusting the bag draped over her shoulders. Lumina clung tightly to her leg, half-hidden, peeking out with wide pink eyes.
“I-I’m Celeste Astallan… and this is my little sister, Lumina.”
Lumina peeked out. “H-hello. It’s… it’s lovely to meet you.”
There was a pause.
Even Arcade raised an eyebrow.
Mezzo leaned forward, grinning. “Well pardon me, your highness! Should we be bowing, or do you prefer curtsies?”
Lumina squeaked, flushed pink, and buried her face in Celeste’s cloak. Celeste gave Mezzo a flat look, though her lips twitched upward. “She’s just shy. And we were raised a bit… formal.”
“Yeah, no kidding, Princess,” Mezzo laughed. “She sounds like she’s about to offer me tea and threaten war with my people in the same sentence.”
“Stop bullying the child,” Pitch muttered.
“I’m not! I’m appreciating her!” Mezzo grinned. “Big difference.”
Arcade cut through smoothly. “Arcade Davies. Engineer, hacker, genius. Try to keep up.” He gestured vaguely at Skye. “That’s Skye Emilio. Cousin. Don’t ask how.”
Mezzo squinted. “Fennec and hedgehog cousins? Yeah, that math isn’t mathing.”
Arcade didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a complicated family tree. And also none of your business.”
“Ooh, mysterious,” Mezzo drawled. “Let me guess—interdimensional adoptions, ancient fennec blood curse, or swapped in the nursery by an angry witch?”
Skye gave a tiny smile from behind his scarf. “Closer to option three than you’d think.”
“Witch it is,” Mezzo nodded solemnly.
Celeste chuckled, her hand resting protectively on Lumina’s shoulder. For a brief moment, the room felt warm again.
Pitch stood, calm and collected. “Name’s Pitch. Pitch E. Blak. Survivalist, guide, and… big brother. I’ve got a kid brother I need to get back to outside the city. But I’ll help as long as I can.”
Mezzo tilted his head. “How old are you?” “Thirty-one.”
Mezzo gasped. “Ancient!”
Pitch gave him a slow blink. “Watch it, pup.”
“Not a pup,” Mezzo retorted, puffing out his chest. “I’m an adult pup. With adult money.”
Arcade raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How much money?”
Mezzo paused. “…None. Technically. Yet.”
Celeste laughed softly, and without thinking, pulled half a pound coin from her coat. “Here. But only if you perform that guitar solo you kept shouting about.”
Mezzo took the coin like it was treasure. “You remembered?” he gasped. “Finally! Validation! At last I am seen!”
He struck a dramatic pose. “Ladies and gentlemen, the show must go on! Coming soon to a bathroom near you—Mezzo, the financially independent rock sensation of Clawdiff Con!”
Skye clapped softly, smiling. “I like music. Helps quiet the noise. Except when it doesn’t.”
Ray groaned. “That’s it. I’m done. Not dying in a toilet cubicle next to a karaoke puppy.”
She yanked the door open—
And froze.
A small figure stood in the flickering corridor.
It stopped.
Turned.
Bolted straight at them.
“NOPE!” Ray slammed the door shut again.
Knocking resumed—sharp, deliberate, almost playful.
Mezzo whimpered, burying his face in his paws. “WHY WON’T IT LEAVE US ALONE?!”
Celeste tilted her head, brow knitting. “Wait… if it’s knocking… then maybe it’s not like the others.”
All eyes went to her.
Pitch rumbled, “Go on.”
Celeste bit her lip. “It hasn’t attacked. It keeps… trying the doors. Like it remembers. Like… it’s aware.”
Ray frowned. “You’re saying it’s smart?”
Celeste hesitated. “…Or just not gone all the way.” She hugged her sleeves tighter. “I hope they have something in their brains, you know? Maybe we can cure them.”
Arcade gave her a side look. “Celeste… what happened to your friend?”
Her throat tightened. “She started bleeding blue from her eyes. Then she tried to bite me. She asked for help but—” Celeste’s voice cracked, and she shook her head. “—but I was attacked by another. A… well, monster. Ill person. I have no idea what to call them.”
“Zombies?” Mezzo offered, his fur bristling.
Celeste winced. “Oh dear, I hope not. But… anyway, I hope she’s okay.”
Arcade crossed his arms. “Chances aren’t good. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Celeste’s voice softened. “I’m just being optimistic.”
Arcade stared at the door. “Either way, it’s something new.”
Outside, the knocking stopped.
And this time… it didn’t come back.
Chapter 9 : Miss Jellybean & the Lost Ones
The dim emergency lights flickered overhead, casting long, eerie shadows across the once-vibrant con hall now littered with abandoned merchandise, empty cosplay props, and torn posters fluttering like ghosts in a forgotten wind.
Celeste took measured steps, her boots clicking softly against the tile, each sound like a cannon shot in the silence. Pitch followed close, flashlight ready, his ears twitching with every creak and groan of the building.
The beam of light swept over the floor—and both of them froze. Long streaks of blood dragged in irregular patterns, as though bodies had been hauled away against their will.
Celeste’s stomach knotted. “Dragged… away…” she whispered.
Something crackled by her paw. A security walkie-talkie lay discarded, its casing smeared red. Static popped through it—then a desperate voice broke out, ragged and panicked.
“Hello? Please, someone—! They’re inside, I can’t—”
A scream tore across the channel, loud and human and awful. Then only static.
Pitch swallowed hard, ears flat. He bent, picked the walkie up, and switched it off with a trembling paw. “Too late.”
Celeste forced herself to move on, her breath shallow. The next thing her light caught was worse—a council-issued droid, its plating torn open and scattered in a pool of oil. The metal looked gnawed, as if something had tried to eat it and failed.
She hugged her arms tight. “This isn’t random. It’s… hunger.”
The con hall loomed ahead, silent except for the buzz of dying lights and the phantom echo of that scream.
Then—
“BZZZT. Attention.”
Both of them jumped, spinning toward the ceiling as a speaker crackled to life, the sound blaring in the silence.
“Evacuation order. The Council reminds all hybrids to remember protocol and allow purebloods to vacate the premises first. Any infraction shall result in a fixed penalty and national ID score deduction.”
The announcement looped, cold and bureaucratic, as though nothing had happened at all.
Pitch muttered under his breath, teeth bared. “I hope those things shut off soon. Gonna draw attention.”
Celeste turned her head, scanning the far end of the hall. Her breath caught.
A shadow lingered at the edge of the broken stalls—slender, hunched, almost human. It shifted the moment the light passed over, pressing itself against the wall as if trying to hide.
“Pitch…” Celeste whispered, heart hammering. “We’re not alone.”
Ahead, the small figure darted from one door to the next, pausing only to knock—once, twice—then vanishing again into the gloom like a wind-up toy on repeat.
Celeste’s voice lowered, careful, almost whispering. “It’s just a child… I think.”
“Looks like it,” Pitch whispered, lowering the light. “But we can't assume anything. You’ve seen what’s out there.”
Celeste nodded, her heart beating fast. Just as she stepped forward again, she felt a small tug at the hem of her coat.
She spun, fists clenched—only to see Lumina, wide-eyed, clutching her sleeve.
“I didn’t… I didn’t want to be alone,” Lumina whispered.
Celeste exhaled hard, equal parts relief and exasperation. She glanced back toward the bathroom.
Arcade, still peeking from the cracked door, threw up his paws in surrender and mouthed, I tried to stop her.
Rolling her eyes, Celeste gently pulled Lumina to her side and motioned for her to stay close.
Then Celeste blinked, rubbing at her eyes. “Ugh… I can’t see a thing like this.” With a quick rummage through her bag, she slipped on her square spectacles, the glass catching a faint gleam of the broken neon nearby.
Lumina tilted her head, studying her. “I don’t know why you hide them. You look fine.”
Celeste hesitated, fussing with the frame on her nose. “I’m just… trying not to be recognised, is all.”
Lumina’s voice was quiet, but sharp in the stillness. “Is it… so Dad doesn’t find you?”
Celeste froze. Her paw lingered awkwardly at her temple, glasses half-adjusted. She opened her mouth—then shut it again, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.
Instead of answering, she looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Lumina said nothing more, but her small paw stayed curled in Celeste’s sleeve.
The figure ahead paused at another door, knocking softly. Now that she was closer, Celeste could see more detail—a small frame clad in a bright yellow hoodie with mouse ears, a rainbow stitched across the back, and a glittery skirt poking out beneath the hem. The oversized animal mask, shaped like a cartoonish bunny, was slightly crooked.
The little figure jumped and turned quickly. There was a long pause. Then, with tiny hands, the child reached up and removed the mask.
A small panda cub stared back at them, eyes glistening.
She popped a pacifier from her mouth and said softly in Welsh, “Dw i wedi colli fy mam…”
(I’ve lost my mum.)
Celeste’s heart dropped. Lumina clutched her paw tighter.
Pitch stepped forward slowly, his voice gentle for the first time since they met. “We’ve got you now, little one. You’re not alone anymore.”
But just as Celeste reached out her hand, the ground beneath them gave a low rumble—and somewhere deeper in the con, a metallic screech echoed like a banshee’s wail.
Celeste instinctively pulled Lumina behind her, shielding the cub as she looked to Pitch, who had already turned toward the sound.
“We—we need to go. Now.”
Pitch lifted his flashlight, jaw tight. “Something’s moving. And it’s big.”
And this time, it didn’t sound small.
Mezzo burst out of the shadows, guitar case bulging with random junk. “Loot check! I scored a limited edition Captain Starwhip pin, a glowstick sword, three bags of crisps—”
He trailed off suddenly, spotting the small figure in Celeste’s arms.
His eyes widened.
“Not again!” he yelped, yanking out a dented soda can like a grenade. “Stay back, candy fiend! I’ve seen your tricks!”
Pitch calmly grabbed his wrist. “It’s a kid, genius.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes at Mezzo, then gently pulled the panda cub’s mask up to reveal her big, watery eyes and trembling nose.
“See? Just a little girl.”
Mezzo squinted. “Could’ve been a zombie,” he muttered, lowering the can reluctantly. “You saw what happened to that licorice dog dude.”
Celeste sighed, her voice sharp but small. “Not everyone in a mask is a monster.”
The panda cub tucked her head into Celeste’s shoulder, still sniffling.
Celeste softened again. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The cub didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Lumina, who smiled and pulled out a crinkled bag of strawberry bonbons from her hoodie pocket.
Lumina smiled shyly. “Do you… want one?”
The cub’s eyes lit up. She squealed in delight, reaching for the sweets.
“Bonbons!”
Celeste blinked. “Bonbon? Is that… your name?”
The cub nodded excitedly, grabbing one of the candies and popping it into her mouth with a sticky mffph.
Pitch smirked. “Well, there it is. We’ve got ourselves a Bonbon.”
Celeste adjusted the cub on her hip, her voice soft but steady. “Then we’ll keep her close—at least until we find her mother.”
Bonbon nestled into her shoulder with a tiny sigh, as if the promise was enough.
Mezzo groaned. “Great. Another mouth to feed. Hope she’s good with a guitar solo when the zombies come.”
From down the hall, Ray’s dry voice cut through. “She’s already got better rhythm than you.”
The group chuckled, tense but real.
Celeste shifted Bonbon on her hip and whispered, almost like a promise: “We—we have to keep moving. Quietly. The little ones first.”
Mezzo saluted with mock seriousness. “Aye aye! Operation: Save the Kids—commencing now!”
Lumina bent down, her little fingers brushing over a dusty but clearly loved doll—a pink bunny Lolita dress clinging delicately to its stitched frame. Its glass eyes were cracked slightly, but it still held an odd kind of charm, like a forgotten character in the wrong genre of story.
She looked up at Celeste with wide, hopeful eyes. “Can I take her home? I think it would be a shame to leave her here...”
Celeste paused, heart tugging. She gave a small nod. “Of course. She deserves better than this mess.”
Smiling, Lumina carefully tucked the doll into Celeste’s backpack, zipping it gently.
“Her name’s Miss Jellybean,” she decided quietly, and Celeste didn’t argue.
But just as the moment settled—a familiar dread returned.
Chapter 10 : Sugarcoated Hell
The floor rumbled, dust from the cracked ceiling sprinkling like ash.
A long, distorted screech rang out from the darkness, echoing like metal dragged across candy glass.
Ray, watching from the half-ajar bathroom door, narrowed her eyes. “That’s not good…”
Before she could move, something massive collided with the corridor wall beside her, sending her tumbling backward into the dark with a thud.
Bursting from the shadows came a towering, 12-foot grotesque—a behemoth of bloated, gelatinous pink flesh.
A pig-donut monster.
Its snout squelched frosting with every breath, its skin glazed and sprinkled, and its movements slow but thunderous. It waddled like a corrupted mascot on sugar steroids—adorably horrifying, its body undulating as it threw its weight around like a wrecking ball of icing-covered doom.
Ray stared up from the floor, pale and breathless. “…This convention officially sucks,” she muttered, deadpan, just as the donut pig roared—spraying frosting like shrapnel.
Celeste jerked Lumina back, shielding her with both arms. Her voice trembled but held firm: “R-Run! Please—just go!”
Mezzo froze, eyes bulging. “That thing—” he jabbed a paw at the beast “—needs cardio. And maybe a therapist!”
The group scattered, the air thick with fear and powdered sugar.
They barely made it ten steps before the next nightmare revealed itself.
From the cracks in the floor, ceiling vents, and even spilled candy bins, they appeared—tiny, hyperactive mice-like creatures, each barely knee-high.
Their bodies were dense, glittering sugar cubes stacked like miniature bricks.
But their faces…
Celeste’s stomach turned.
Wide, jagged grins stretched unnaturally from ear to ear, packed with crystalline teeth.
Their eyes? Empty black holes, as if the very idea of mercy had been extracted from their design.
They moved fast—too fast.
“What the—!” Mezzo yelped as one launched itself at his leg.
Another bit into Pitch’s coat, making him spin, flailing and growling, trying to swat it off with a discarded foam sword.
“Get it off! Get it—oh, that’s my tail, you demon sprinkle!”
More mice skittered across the ground like sugar-coated piranhas.
Meanwhile, Arcade and Skye darted into a side corridor—but their path was blocked.
A marshmallow bunny stood at the far end.
Not the cuddly kind from Easter baskets—this thing was the size of a small car, with a body that shimmered and pulsed like taffy under a heat lamp.
Every step it took was deliberate and heavy.
It didn’t bounce. It absorbed.
With a sickening squelch, the plushy white mass stepped onto a toppled vending machine, and the metal groaned before disappearing completely into its pillowy body, like it had never existed.
Arcade skidded to a stop. “Nope. Nope nope nope!”
“We are so gonna get diabetes and die,” Skye muttered, holding his trading card device up like it might ward off evil. “This is how it ends.”
Celeste grabbed Lumina’s hand tighter, her eyes darting for another route. “We need to run! These things are everywhere!”
The hallway pulsed with a twisted melody—some cheerful chiptune jingle warped into something off-key and monstrous, like the soundtrack of a child’s nightmare.
Ray stumbled to her feet, powdered sugar clinging to her fur. “Okay, so I vote we stop splitting up!” she yelled, kicking one of the sugar-mice across the corridor.
“Agreed!” Mezzo shouted, now using a folded con banner as a makeshift shield.
Somewhere behind them, the donut pig let out another enraged frosting-gargled bellow.
The con had officially become a sugar-coated hell.
Celeste’s heart pounded.
We need a plan, she thought. Or we’re not getting out of this candy-coated nightmare.
The moment the candy-cat zombie emerged from the shadows, the world felt wrong.
It didn’t move like a creature. It glided—limbs flexing with unsettling grace. Its body looked as though someone had sculpted a mockery of a feline out of sweet wrappers, taffy, and twisted sugar glass. Its hands were clusters of stiff lollipops that clinked together as it walked, yet where a mouth should have been… there was nothing. Just a smooth stretch of sticky, waxy cellophane.
Still, it spoke—and what it said turned Celeste’s blood to ice.
It wasn’t its voice. It was his.
“Disappointment… why don’t you make yourself useful—and give up.”
The voice of her father. Cold. Controlled. Brutal in its finality.
Celeste froze.
Her breath caught in her throat, her knees buckled, and the world twisted into a sickening carousel of color and dread. It was like her soul had been dredged out and stretched raw.
The creature lunged—not fast, but deliberately—and began wrapping her in a cocoon of sweet wrappers. Her arms, her legs—her thoughts—being bound tighter and tighter.
She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight.
“Celeste!” Lumina’s voice rang out, small but desperate, trying to yank her free—but the magic was stronger than either of them.
Then—the whisper.
It came like the wind slipping through a crack in a closed window.
Soft. Familiar. Welsh.
“Deffro…” Awaken.
The word echoed like a spark in dry grass, racing through her veins.
Celeste’s Mana Suppression Rune, dormant until now, surged.
But before it could fully suppress her, something deeper answered first.
A light—soft at first, then blinding—bloomed from her chest.
Shaped like a glowing candy core, the same kind she had devoured, it pulsed with radiant energy. A perfect fusion of mythic magic and unstable sweetness, humming with impossible warmth.
It drew in everything—every drop of mana left in her body.
Instead of exploding outward in fire and fury, it flashed bright blue, then rippled outward in delicate tendrils of light.
Her fear didn’t trap her anymore. It poured out—carried by the light, lifted from her chest like breath in winter.
The energy threaded through the air, reaching far beyond the ruined convention hall.
And then—like stars lighting up on a constellation—it touched them.
One by one.
A flicker of red on Mezzo’s chest. A twitch of purple light in Ray’s. A heartbeat of yellow echoed in Skye’s chest. Lumina gasped as her chest glowed pink. Arcade, halfway across the ruins, faltered and looked toward Celeste.
They felt her.
Not the fire. Not the fury.
Her.
And in that moment, as the last of her energy left her body and the microchip re-engaged with a painful snap, Celeste collapsed back to herself.
She dropped to her knees, panting. Glowing veins dimming.
Her hand found the cracked marble wall beside her, and she whispered a spell with barely enough voice to speak.
Celeste, breath ragged, lowered her blades. The glow around her dimmed, but her voice—quiet, trembling—still reached her friends. “Did… did I do that? I didn’t mean to—well, I did, but not like that—”
And now… they knew it too.
Her fear had shape.
Her fear had power.
Her truth had claws.
From her hands, a warm starlight erupted. Crystalline particles danced in the air like fireflies as she hovered mid-lift, hair shifting as if underwater. In each hand, something formed—no, returned.
Twin swords—Japanese in design, but unlike anything from a museum or anime.
Their hilts shimmered, inlaid with glowing stars—little constellations that flickered as if alive. Long ribbons extended from each one, flowing behind her like comets’ tails, with shining shooting stars weighted at their ends.
The Celestial Blades—Starlight and Starbright.
The wrapper-zombie hissed with mimicry as it reached again, but too late.
BOOM.
The burst from Celeste’s aura blasted it backward—shredding its candy wrappings and sending it skidding across the floor like litter in the wind.
She stood tall—wobbly but alive—her blades humming like soft music boxes.
Lumina stared in awe.
Mezzo, mouth open, whispered, “…Okay, that was cool.”
Pitch just nodded slowly. “That… explains a lot.”
Celeste looked at her glowing hands, the swords, the sparks gently falling around her like snow.
She wasn’t sure what had awakened.
But she was no longer just scared.
She was ready to defend.
Celeste’s aura flared—a radiant burst of starlight rippling outward like a shockwave through the darkness.
As the pulse rolled across her friends, something deep within each of them stirred. Mana Suppression Runes embedded beneath their skin—previously dormant—hummed with rising energy, responding to Celeste’s surge like tuning forks catching a shared frequency. One by one, a core in their chests lit up—each a different color, each glowing with a light that linked briefly back to Celeste before fading. And then, each hybrid formed a weapon.
Lumina was the first to react.
Her eyes widened as glowing light enveloped her hands. With a gasp, she instinctively held them out—and flash—a gleaming heart-shaped shield materialized in her left hand, intricate and soft-colored, its edges laced with golden curls and a central pink gem pulsing like a heartbeat.
In her right hand, a sword followed—a slender, curved blade forged from rose-gold and pink-gold alloy, with a hilt shaped like a blooming flower. At its center sat another gem-heart, warm and protective, a light that radiated hope.
Heartguard and Roselight Blade.
The moment she gripped the sword, her posture changed. A little more confident. A little less scared.
The candy-cat zombie, now shrieking in mimicry and clearly frustrated, launched itself at Lumina—lollihands swinging wildly, wrappers flapping like sails.
But Lumina stood her ground.
She planted her feet, snapped her shield in front of her—and the moment it struck, the shield pulsed out a resonant thrum. The impact sent the zombie recoiling like it had slammed into a wall of love itself, its movements glitching and twitching.
Celeste saw her chance.
Still reeling from her awakening, legs shaky beneath her, she pushed forward, gripping her twin blades tight. Her eyes locked on the zombie’s exposed arm—torn slightly by Lumina’s shield pulse—and with a sharp upward swing of her ribboned sword, she sliced.
A crunch—then snap.
The zombie’s arm, brittle from the impact, flew off, landing in a crumpled heap of candy and cellophane.
The creature staggered back, letting out a garbled screech, mimicking a dozen voices at once in static terror.
Behind Celeste, faint crackles began to form—Skye, Arcade, even Pitch—their new cores were reacting too.
Something had changed.
They weren’t just survivors anymore.
They were changed.
Chapter 11 : Game On
Celeste's hands trembled on her blades, her breath hitching, heart racing.
She was terrified.
But when her eyes locked on Lumina—clutching her heart-shaped shield and trying to stand tall—and the little panda cub clinging to Lumina’s skirt—Bonbon, frightened but watching—something inside her snapped into focus.
This wasn’t about being fearless.
It was about being brave anyway.
Celeste whispered to herself, at first shakily, “It’s just a game… like a video game…” She repeated it, trying to convince herself—then believing it more with every word. “Just a game…”
Suddenly, the severed zombie arm started to glitch—flickering at the edges, distorting in its shape. Then, with a digital fizz, it disintegrated into pixels, scattering upward like confetti.
With a chime, floating numbers appeared:
+10 EXP +Candy x3
A colorful fanfare followed—a burst of sparkles and loot like a piñata breaking open.
Celeste blinked, blades still glowing. “Wait… I really am in a game…”
It was absurd. Impossible. Yet the moment the thought took root, reality bent around it.
Reality had shifted, warping to match her perception. The zombies no longer moved like grotesque monsters—they now had health bars flickering above them, glitched animations when they staggered. Everything about the world suddenly felt like a high-stakes boss level.
Celeste turned to Lumina, who was trembling but holding her shield high. Celeste’s grin—shaky but real—cut through the terror like sunlight.
“Just pretend it’s a game with me, okay? We can do this. I’m with you.”
Lumina gasped softly at her words, then nodded hard, her grip on the Roselight Blade tightening. “Okay… like a game,” she whispered, then steadied her voice. “Let’s win together.”
She took her stance beside Celeste, shoulders back, shield up—trying so hard to be strong.
And Bonbon peeked from behind, still holding her pacifier, and squeaked, “Level up?”
Celeste chuckled through the fear. She smiled down at Bonbon, brushing a bit of hair from her little panda face. “Yeah,” she said softly, steadying her blades again. “Level up.”
Mezzo stared down at his glowing hands, eyes widening as a flaming red guitar materialized between them. Its body was sharp, jagged—shaped like a battle axe, with the strings crackling like molten wire. Flames licked the edges, not burning him, but hungry for sound.
His guitar axe: Infernal Riff.
“No way… This is metal.”
Without a second thought, he slung it over his shoulder and struck a power chord that rippled through the air. The sound was almost tangible, sending a shockwave that staggered the sugar cube mice closing in.
Then—reality snapped back and Mezzo saw them crawling closer, their jagged grins gleaming.
“Okay, okay! Less solos—more smashing!”
He raised the guitar like a war axe and slammed it down on the nearest creature. It burst into candy shards and EXP, a cartoonish “CRIT!” flashing midair.
Mezzo grinned wide.
“I take it back. This is the best gig ever!”
Meanwhile, Pitch stood steady amid the chaos, cool and quiet—until he felt the hum in his hands.
With a shimmer of gold light, a weapon unfolded in his grip: a sleek shotgun—the barrel forged from shimmering playing cards, each one etched with arcane suits and emblems. Across the largest card, a bold pinup fox winked above the name:
Lady Luck.
Pitch cocked the gun, and the chamber shuffled like a deck. He smirked.
“Let’s deal.”
He aimed, and fired—no bullets, but razor-sharp cards launched out, slicing through the zombie swarm like shurikens.
Each shot was precise, elegant—and lethal.
+15 EXP +Gummy Eyeball (Rare Drop)
Pitch flicked his wrist and the gun reloaded with a shuffle.
“Never underestimate the house.”
The battlefield had changed.
No longer victims, they were players.
And every monster was just another boss to beat.
Ray, ever the stubborn lone wolf, gritted her teeth and charged the towering donut pig monster.
“Get out of my way!”
She barely got close before the beast’s gelatinous bulk swung sideways—BOOM—sending her flying like a ragdoll into a nearby display of plush toys. She growled, half-dazed but furious.
Then it happened.
A pulse surged through her chest, flowing to her arms. Her fists glowed, and in a brilliant flash, a colossal war hammer materialized in her grip.
Heartbreaker.
It was black and violet, jagged and vicious-looking. A cracked broken heart emblem pulsed at its core, beating with her rage.
The weapon was absurdly massive, almost comedic. No one should have been able to lift it. But Ray? She swung it like it was part of her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me… well, fine.”
She gripped the handle and charged.
With a mighty roar, she slammed the hammer into the pig monster’s side.
CRACK!
The beast let out a wailing oink as chunks of donut and icing blasted off its side. Sprinkles rained down like shrapnel. It stumbled, trying to recover—but Ray wasn’t done.
“Oh, now we’re playing my kind of game.”
Her eyes gleamed with confidence, a smirk tugging at her lips.
For the first time in her life—Ray didn’t just feel strong.
She was.
Meanwhile, tiny hands grasped at something that shimmered into existence—a small wand, rainbow with a lollipop-shaped tip. Little Bonbon blinked under her panda mask, tilting her head.
Twizzleburst.
It glittered like a toy—and to her, that’s all it was.
So, naturally, she giggled and bopped it against the air like she was playing pretend.
With a poof, sparkling hearts and tiny candy meteors shot forward and bounced harmlessly off a wall—until one hit a sugar mouse, disintegrating it in a burst of glitter.
+10 EXP
Bonbon clapped, not realizing the magic she had just wielded.
“Eto! Boom boom!”
Everyone else stared in disbelief.
She just beamed, swinging the wand again.
Sparkles exploded behind her.
Next, Arcade—ever the strategist, ever the logic-driven thinker—watched with bated breath as his own microchip pulsed.
“Based on my prior calculations, statistical models, and the law of narrative symmetry… this should be something absolutely magnificent.”
His hands sparked.
A sudden ping sounded, and materialized in front of him was… a tiny robot.
About the size of a lunchbox.
Gray, with a magnet-themed color scheme: one eye softly glowed blue, the other red. It had a single spinning antenna and stubby legs that wobbled awkwardly as it looked up at him.
“Hello, Master. Awaiting commands.”
Arcade blinked. “…That’s it?”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Mezzo burst out laughing, nearly doubling over.
“BAHAHA—Look at it! It’s adorable! I thought you’d summon a tank, not a toaster!”
Arcade’s eye twitched. “What can you even do? You’re tiny.”
The robot gave no reply. Instead, it beeped once and its entire body began to fold inward—like a reverse origami trick—until it formed a small metal cube.
Then the cube began to grow.
It expanded outward, massively, clicking and shifting like transforming armor until it towered over the group—a full battle mech, easily ten feet tall, sleek and industrial.
Its blue-and-red eyes flickered back on.
“I’m C.H.I.P. I am travel-sized for your convenience,” it said cheerfully, before tearing through the sugar mice like tissue paper.
+20 EXP
Arcade smirked smugly.
“Finally. Someone here who understands proper hardware.”
Last—but by no means least—was Skye.
He stood quiet, unsure. Everyone else had flashy weapons, powers—even a mecha. But nothing had happened to him.
Then he noticed it—his card launcher. The once-plain device now shimmered like treasure unearthed. Its casing gleamed with enchanted gold, inlaid with radiant gemstones that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Intricate runes curled along its edges, glowing faintly like a spell waiting to be spoken.
Aurex Arcana.
There was a soft click, smooth and deliberate. A single shimmering card slid into his hand—warm with magic, heavy with purpose.
He stared at it, uncertain, but loaded it into the launcher anyway.
“Might as well try…”
WHOOSH.
From the card burst a flickering sprite, glowing and elegant, like a hummingbird made of fire and light. It spun once in the air and shot a fireball straight into the giant marshmallow bunny.
The creature let out a soft splorch before melting into a gooey puddle, giving off the faint smell of burnt sugar.
+10 EXP +Candy x3
Skye gasped.
“Whoa… That… was me?”
Celeste gave him a proud nod. “Looks like everyone has something special now.”
Mezzo whooped. “Best game ever!”
And so, for the first time since the chaos began, the group stood tall.
Together. Armed. Ready.
A team.
Chapter 12 : The Candy Apocalypse
The team stood among the wreckage—broken candy creatures, melted marshmallow goo, and shattered sugar mice all around them.
They were panting, scuffed up, and a little sticky… but they were grinning.
With a flash of golden light, a message popped up in the air like a hologram:
LEVEL UP! ➤ Level 2 Achieved!
Above each of their heads, shimmering numbers flickered into place. Even Bonbon, who clapped excitedly, got her little badge of level-up pride.
Mezzo flung his arms wide like he was announcing to a stadium. “YES! I knew I was main character material! Finally, the spotlight’s on me!”
Celeste laughed, cheeks flushing. “Oh, don’t be daft… it’s not just you…” She lifted a hand shyly for a high-five.
Mezzo smacked it with a resounding clap, then spun toward the others. “GROUP HIGH-FIVE, PEOPLE! Don’t leave me hangin’!”
One by one, Lumina, Skye, and even Ray hesitated, then joined in. Pitch smirked faintly and slapped his paw in. Arcade rolled his eyes. “Ugh, germs,” he muttered—but leaned in anyway.
For the first time since the chaos began, they didn’t feel like prey.
They felt like a team.
Arcade immediately pulled back, fiddling with his wrist-tech, eyes gleaming with calculation. “This makes absolutely no sense. No Wi-Fi, no visible energy source—yet the chips responded to extreme psychological stimuli, manifesting constructs tailored to individual cognition. Fascinating…”
Ray arched an eyebrow. “Or maybe it’s just… y’know, magic? Don’t fry your brain about it.”
Arcade scoffed. “That’s literally the opposite of what I do.”
Pitch leaned against a cracked gumdrop pillar, voice low. “Alright, genius—but how are we meant to carry these things? My shotgun’s made of bloody playing cards. Not exactly stealth kit.”
As if on cue, all of their weapons dissolved into particles—a soft light that floated into the air before fading into their respective microchips.
The room fell silent.
Mezzo blinked.
“Where’d my guitar go?!”
He stuck out his paw dramatically.
“Come back, my sweet ax of flame!”
The air shimmered—and BAM—the guitar reappeared in his paws with a soft musical riff echoing behind it.
Everyone stared.
Mezzo grinned like a lunatic.
“Okay. This. Is. AWESOME.”
Arcade’s jaw tightened, but his eyes shone. “This isn’t just magic. It’s adaptive. The universe itself is rewriting interface laws to suit our subconscious expectations. Symbolic cognition, emotional projection—do you realize what this means? I need samples. Notes. Simulations—”
Ray groaned, dragging a paw down her face. “He’s gonna lecture us into the apocalypse.”
Skye leaned toward Lumina and whispered, almost conspiratorial. “I think… I just leveled up in weird.”
Lumina hummed thoughtfully, clutching her shield close. “Weird… but fun.”
Celeste smiled softly at the sound. For just a moment, despite everything, things felt… okay.
But deep down, they all knew—
This was only the beginning.
The sliding doors to the convention center let out a mechanical groan as they cracked open—half-crushed, one hanging from its rail, the other jammed by gum.
Celeste stepped out first, her heels crunching against a floor now coated in hardened, crystallized syrup and crushed sweets.
The others followed—quiet, almost reverent.
Even Mezzo stopped flicking his guitar in and out of reality.
They stood side by side, staring at the once-living, bustling city of Clawdiff, now buried under a surreal, grotesque candy-coated nightmare.
The roads were paved in taffy, buildings slumped under icing and caramelized sugar. Lamp posts bent from the weight of vines made of red licorice. Vehicles had melted into sticky pools of neon goo.
Worst of all, not a single living person was visible—only those twisted, zombified sugar beasts lurching aimlessly through the streets. Some of them looked like they had once been people… but were now misshapen forms wearing Halloween candy like armor, eyes glazed over—both literally and figuratively.
Ray muttered under her breath, sharp and low. “Where the hell is everybody…?”
Arcade was already scanning the skyline with his Coms Crystal, eyes narrowed, voice edged with fascination more than fear. “Look up. Not clouds—glass. We’re under a dome.”
The others followed his gaze. Above them, the horizon curved into a rose-tinted shell, shimmering faintly, humming with unnatural energy.
Suspended dead-center, floating like a cruel parody of the moon, was a colossal gumball. Stadium-sized. Turning slowly, pulsing faintly.
Arcade’s voice dropped, almost reverent. “That’s no ornament. That’s the epicenter. The entire system’s bleeding from there.”
Skye tugged on Lumina’s sleeve, whispering. “Is this… still a game? Or did the game eat us?”
Lumina squeezed his paw tighter. “Don’t know… but I don’t like it.”
Even Pitch, who hadn’t flinched at anything yet, stared up with a grim look. “That ain’t cosplay. That’s a bloody cage.”
Then—
“Woooooah!” Mezzo threw his arms open, grinning like a lunatic. “Now that’s commitment to a theme! Look at it—giant death gumball in the sky? Genius! And hey, is that car made of chocolate? Because, lads, that’s adorable and impractical. Imagine the rain—”
Ray smacked the back of his head. “Shut. Up.”
Silence reclaimed the street until Celeste, voice small but steady, stepped forward. “We… we need to know why this is happening. And… um… then we need to get out. Before it—before it gets worse.”
Her words cut through, shy but resolute. One by one, the others nodded. Even Mezzo puffed up a little taller, though he muttered under his breath, “Still calling dibs on the chocolate car…”
They moved. The city of Clawdiff stretched before them, a candy-coated ruin. Frosting dripped from buildings, vines of sugar twisted around lamps, and the air reeked of syrup. Sweet, bright, and deeply wrong.
The team froze mid-step.
The ground beneath them trembled, a soft but growing thump… thump… THUMP, like a heartbeat made of earthquakes.
Lumina clutched Celeste’s arm, eyes wide.
Arcade raised his camera instinctively but even he lowered it slightly, muttering, “That’s… not good.”
Ray unslung her giant hammer, her expression unreadable but her ears twitched with tension.
From behind a collapsed candy cart, Mezzo’s muffled voice rang out—he was dangling upside down, tangled in a sugar-flower vine. “Oi! Little help? I’d like to not die stylishly today, thank you very much!”
Pitch hauled him free with a grunt just as a shadow fell across the boulevard.
They all turned.
From the end of the twisted boulevard, past a roundabout now resembling a giant sticky doughnut, it emerged:
A colossal centipede-like creature, its segmented body made of candy canes, rock-candy armor, and oozing molasses, slithered into view. Each foot crunched as it stepped across the sugar-paved road, and its many glass-like eyes glowed with a dull, syrupy red.
Its face was a horror—a twisted mass of licorice and cotton-candy tendrils—and at its center, what looked like a malformed rat face, warped and forever stuck in a sugary, silent scream.
Celeste’s breath caught. “That… that used to be… someone.”
Pitch cocked his shotgun. “Whatever it is now, it’s not friendly.”
The centipede shrieked—a distorted, whistling tea-kettle screech that shook the windows around them—and charged, faster than any of them expected.
Skye yelped, hands over his ears.
Ray didn’t hesitate. She ran forward with a yell, swinging her hammer—but the centipede ducked under the strike and lashed at her with a tail of licorice spikes, flinging her back into a marshmallow bush.
Mezzo’s eyes went wide. “Okay, so taming’s off the table then!”
Arcade’s robot sprang forward, limbs reshaping with mechanical whirs as Arcade barked commands into his omni-tool. “Engaging defense mode! Finally, something worth stress-testing!”
Celeste drew her blades, panic flashing in her eyes. “We—we can’t win here! Please—run!”
Weapons reformed in glowing bursts around each of them.
Lumina raised her shield, shivering beside her sister.
The monster reared back—
—and in a blink, the group scattered onto the rooftops.
Chapter 13 : The Dragon’s Judgment
Someone screamed in the distance—then nothing.
The silence afterward was too clean, too hollow.
Arcade’s ears flicked. “We need to move. Now. Split or sprint, I don’t care—just run!”
The group instinctively turned, ready to bolt down the nearest alleyway—when the air snapped with a sickly-sweet pop.
A shape materialized right in front of them.
It was wrong. Not just in form, but in feeling. A swirling sherbet mist shaped like a jackalope and a genie hovered above the ground. Its body pulsed with pastel colors—peach, lemon, and raspberry pink—but its head had no face, just a smooth shimmer of sugar glass. Long ears bent unnaturally backward, curling like candy canes.
It didn’t walk. It drifted, tendrils of spun sugar dragging along the ground and hissing where they touched.
The alley they’d aimed for twisted suddenly—melting like soft serve, the path stretching into an impossible curve that looped them back to where they started.
“We’re trapped,” Arcade said, wide-eyed. “It’s rewriting the space.”
Ray panicked. “No, no, I’m not playing this game!” She charged the sherbet creature, trying to shove past—
—but the jackalope didn’t move. Instead, it bent the air around her. Ray was flung back like a ragdoll, crashing hard onto the pavement.
“Ray!” Celeste gasped, clutching Bonbon tighter, pulling Lumina close. Lumina trembled, whispering, “Don’t like it… don’t like it…”
The sherbet jackalope hovered higher, its body expanding, swelling like rising taffy. Glowing runes shimmered inside its misty form, spinning too fast to read.
The streets around them warped, alleyways stretching into endless spirals or collapsing into globs of molasses that swallowed doors and fire escapes. They were sealed in.
Then, without warning, the ground shook violently beneath their feet. The group staggered as a low rumble echoed across the landscape, rattling windows and sending bug-birds scattering from rooftops.
From the horizon, seven figures emerged.
Each one cloaked entirely in shadows, their forms indistinct—more impressions than individuals. Some appeared tall and thin, others hunched and twisted, but no true features could be seen. Darkness clung to them like armor. Their mere presence seemed to suck the color out of the world, as if they bent reality just by existing.
But behind them thundered something far greater.
The earth trembled as an immense shape rose from behind the epicenter—like a god forged from sugar and wrath. A titanic dragon made of red candy, its body sculpted from ruby taffy coils and licorice sinew, towered above even the tallest buildings. Its wings shimmered like spun sugar, its horns curled like demonic candy rock, and its eyes burned with ancient intelligence.
Despite its monstrous appearance, it held itself with regal grace—like a king surveying his broken kingdom.
It stepped forward once, and the street split beneath its weight.
“Stand down.”
The shadowed figures halted immediately, obeying without question.
The dragon’s gaze fell upon the group. It did not attack. It simply watched, lowering its head slightly as if in acknowledgment—or curiosity.
Its brilliant eyes—swirling yellow fire, burning with ancient wisdom—locked onto them like floodlights. From deep within its chest, a low growl resonated before a plume of neon-glowing flame escaped between jagged candy teeth. The flame shimmered like liquid light, too bright, too hot even for its massive body to contain. It licked the air, distorting the skyline in waves of heat and magic.
It exhaled, then sighed. The sound wasn’t just power—it was pity.
“Well, look at you,” the dragon rumbled, voice deep but with a sardonic, broken edge. “Still in one piece. Still yourselves. Guess that makes you the last stubborn fools standing.”
His jaw tightened, as if burdened by some invisible weight. He muttered to himself in Welsh—ancient, tired, debating mercy with his own soul. The group couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable—conflicted. Melancholic.
The shadowy generals stirred.
One, thin and spear-like, hissed a warped voice: “They are weak. Crush them now before they fracture.”
Another, hunched and grotesque, snarled: “Their defiance will spread like mold. End them.”
The dragon silenced them with a flick of his claw. “Shut it. Not yet.”
Absolute. Final. The generals fell still.
Then the dragon leaned close, breath thick with caramelized lightning. His burning eyes scanned the group—until they froze on her.
Celeste.
The world went still.
“…Astallan.”
Celeste’s breath caught. She nodded once, trembling.
A low, bitter chuckle rolled from his chest. “Ha. I should’ve known. The eyes give you away. Kin of Astallan… well, kid, that changes the stakes.”
The air grew heavier, electric. Even the generals hesitated.
The dragon straightened again, voice colder, almost kind if it weren’t so cruel. “Here’s the deal. You can’t leave. The dome’s sealed. Permanently. Sorry, sweetheart—that’s just the house rules.”
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with burning resolve.
“So here’s your choice. Join me. I’ll spare you. I’ll… make you more. Stronger than you could dream.”
From the shadows behind the seven figures, more began to stir.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted, shuffling forms emerged from the alleys, streets, shattered windows. Their bodies limp and jerky, skin glistening with syrupy rot, limbs patched with licorice cords and caramel strings. Their eyes glowed like melted peppermint.
Some wore tattered uniforms—janitors, teachers, students, city guards. Faces once familiar. Once kind.
Now puppets.
Bonbon whimpered in Celeste’s arms, burying her face in her shoulder. Arcade whispered, horrified: “That’s not just a zombie army. That’s… everyone. He turned them all.”
The dragon’s chuckle came again—dark, ragged, wrong. “Or… you play it my way. Seven generals. Me at the end. One by one. Win, and you earn the right to choose your fate. Lose…” His grin split wide, sugary teeth glinting like razors. “…well, let’s just say you won’t stay yourselves for long.”
Skye stumbled back. “We… we can’t fight that. We can’t even run from that.”
Mezzo swallowed hard, his bravado drained. “Feck me sideways. This isn’t a battle. This is a feckin’ massacre waitin’ to happen.”
Ray was silent now, bruised from her fall, her confidence cracked.
Pitch clenched his jaw, but his hand trembled at his side.
Celeste looked down. Lumina had her face buried in Celeste’s jumper, fists twisted in the fabric, whispering brokenly. “It’s not real… wake me up… wake me up… please…”
The dragon’s growl deepened. “I’ll let you pass—for now. But soon… I will release the full swarm. No street. No shelter. No dream will be safe.”
Celeste crouched, shielding Lumina with one arm while holding Bonbon with the other. Her own heart thundered like a war drum, but she couldn’t let it show.
The dragon leaned in, his voice a hushed growl, almost intimate. “Tell me, little Astallan… you gonna fold? Or are you dumb enough to roll the dice?”
The city fell deathly silent. Even the bug-birds stopped flying.
The choice now hung in the air like a sword.
The group stood frozen. Each one knew—whatever path they chose, there was no going back.
Chapter 14 : The Seven Champions of Sugar and Shadow
As the dragon’s final words echoed across Clawdiff, the seven cloaked figures stepped forward into the pink light—revealing themselves one by one, their monstrous candy forms sending a jolt of dread through the group.
The Candy Centipede – Mandibite, the Endless Hunger
From the center, a massive centipede unraveled its spiraling body of fused taffy and hard-candy plating. Its legs clicked against the cracked pavement, each step leaving sticky webs of caramel. Its eyes burned like sour-apple flames, and its rat-like face bore spun-sugar whiskers and jagged, candy-crusted teeth that snapped hungrily. Sugar-dripping saliva oozed from its mandibles. Larger now. Meaner. Ravenous.
“Oh, you’ve crossed paths with it before,” the dragon rumbled. “Back then it was just stretching its legs. Now? It’s awake. And hungry.”
The Candyfloss Twins – Sweet Puff and Sour Fluff They twirled forward in perfect synchronization, giggling like schoolgirls. One pink, one blue—identical save for the sparkle in their eyes. Their bodies swirled with candyfloss, floating weightlessly, laughter tinkling like windchimes. On their heads perched jaunty party hats. Innocent. Playful. Deadly.
The pink whispered temptations in a syrup-smooth voice. The blue shrieked with a pitch that cracked the air, her candyfloss hair warping into whipping tendrils.
“Fair? That word ain’t in their rulebook,” the dragon chuckled. “And if you see one, bet your life there’s more waiting.”
The Sherbet Wraith – Veloura, Whispering Kiss of Death She emerged like smoke, a slender rabbit-woman form shifting constantly in the flickering light. Sherbet hues sparked across her fur like pastel lightning, and black horns curled from her head. Her face was beautiful, but where eyes should have been—void. A black abyss filled with whispered desire.
Her honeyed voice drifted from all around, disorienting, intoxicating. Listen too long, and you’d forget danger until your body dissolved into nothing.
“She doesn’t need hands to kill,” the dragon intoned. “One breath’s all it takes.”
The Hard Candy Minotaur – Crackjaw the Relentless He stomped forward, hooves splitting the ground. A minotaur forged of peppermint and rock candy, chest armored like a jawbreaker, fists glowing with molten sugar veins. Licorice-black eyes stared unblinking. Each step thundered like a war drum.
“You’re looking at someone who’s flattened armies,” the dragon said. “And no—before you ask—not even I put him down.”
The Gummy Kraken – Jell’thuzad, Lord of the Sugarsea Tentacles slid through the canal, translucent flesh shimmering like oil in water. Hundreds of sucker-mouths lined each limb, bristling with jelly-slicked teeth. His roar gurgled not from a mouth, but from the water itself.
“You don’t see him,” the dragon warned. “But he’s there. The storm under your feet. And his eyes are on you.”
The Syrup Phoenix – Ashsugar, Flame of the End The sky split open with fire. A phoenix of dripping syrup descended, wings trailing magma-thick flames that set rooftops alight. Feathers curled like charred marshmallows, body pulsing with molten lava. Her scream was a song, both beautiful and terrible, her eyes filled with the grief of endless rebirth.
“Call her rebirth if you like,” the dragon said grimly. “But every rebirth burns something down.”
The group stood silent, breath stolen by the sheer magnitude of what faced them.
The dragon’s gaze swept across them. His voice was cold but not cruel: “These are my champions. You want me? You’ll cut through them first.”
His wings snapped wide, gusts like a storm breaking loose. “The game’s begun. Try to keep up.”
A neon mist spilled from his maw, bathing the city in eerie light. “The deal’s simple. Face my seven, or join their ranks. Either way… I win.”
Celeste stepped forward, fists trembling. Her voice cracked but carried: “Wait—I’m sorry, but… why give us the choice?”
The dragon froze. His terrible presence stilled.
His eyes fell on her, not just as a challenger, but as a mirror of something long-buried. His chest heaved once, his voice weighted with memory: “Because I swore it. To an old friend.”
He lifted his gaze skyward. “A brother once. We stood on opposite sides of a dying world. He believed mortals deserved the dignity of choosing how their story ends.”
Claws dug into the earth. “I thought him naïve. But before the end… he begged me. Said if I ever wore the crown of a god, I should grant them that chance.”
The dragon’s gaze returned to Celeste, heavy, almost sad. “So here it is. Your choice. Not mine. His.”
Her breath caught.
The dragon dipped his head, murmuring in Welsh, low as a prayer: “Dewis yw’r olaf o anrhegion dynoliaeth.” Choice is humanity’s final gift.
One by one, the generals scattered, peeling away into their domains across the warped city.
Celeste called out, voice trembling but clear: “Wait—my sister… the children—they’re innocent. Please, let them leave.”
The dragon stilled. His colossal head dipped, lowering until those molten, fractured eyes met hers.
“Trugaredd ar eu heneidiau.” Mercy on their souls.
Then the world convulsed. Sugar-lightning ripped the skies, splitting the heavens with a crack that shook the glass dome itself. The dragon uncoiled, wings unfurling until they eclipsed the pale moonlight. Firelight danced across his syrup-scaled hide, veins of molten sugar glowing like rivers of lava through crystal. With a thunderous beat, he rose above the ruins, casting the city in shadow.
When he spoke again, it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t human. It was a coronation, a curse, and a hymn of power all at once.
“Hear me, Clawdiff! I am Velcarius—Sacchararch of Clawdiff, the Crowned Craving, Warden of the Sugargraves, Flame of Endless Bloom!”
Each title was spat with pride and venom, as though daring the world to deny him. A mist of glowing nectar poured from his maw, draping the streets below in a sickly pink haze. Buildings bled light as the candy storm thickened overhead.
And then his gaze fell back to her—Celeste.
One small, defiant figure in the storm, hair whipping in the gale. His grin cracked wide, sharp as a thousand candy shards.
“And you…” his voice lowered to velvet over iron. “You are the spark that dares flicker before my feast?”
The sky thundered. “Come then, little knight. Let your blades sing. Let your soul burn.”
“Welcome… to my kingdom.”
And without another word, the dragon turned. With a powerful beat of his wings, he lifted himself and coiled protectively around the floating gumball structure at the city’s core like a serpent guarding an egg. The sky darkened with the shadow of his wingspan, and then... silence. Until laughter echoed.
Silence.
Then—laughter.
The Candy Centipede slithered forward, legs twitching with sadistic glee. “What a joke,” he hissed. “These are who we fear? Sugarless worms?”
His many eyes fixed on Mezzo. “I should start with the spotted pudding. You look like you’d scream in a delicious pitch.”
Mezzo, still sticky with vine residue, yelped. “I am not pudding! And—wait—spotted?!”
He slapped his own face. “Nope. Still dreaming. This is NOT happening.”
The centipede surged, sugar legs clattering as Mezzo bolted. Candyfloss vines curled up, blocking his escape.
The Sherbet Wraith shimmered nearby, voice a deadly lullaby: “Careful, crawly one. The dragon’s orders were clear.”
The centipede hissed, mandibles clacking, but after a tense moment he relented—melting back into the shadows with a sneer.
“Run, pudding. I’ll be waiting.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter 15 : Beneath the Candy Dome
The group stood in stunned silence.
Arcade’s fingers flew across his arcbracer, scanning furiously. His tone was sharp, dismissive, half mutter and half lecture. “This shouldn’t be real. Physics doesn’t bend like this. None of this computes. Unless, of course, the laws of reality decided to take a holiday and forgot to tell me.”
Mezzo collapsed to the ground with a thump, clutching his head. “Monsters made of feckin’ candy! A dragon the size of a cathedral! And don’t get me started on that centipede—thing tried to turn me into a jam tart!” He gestured wildly at the others. “And ye are all just standin’ there like this is Tuesday! Am I the only one losin’ me mind?!”
Pitch’s gaze never left the skyline. He held his shotgun steady, calm as a rock. “Panicking won’t stop it biting your head off, kid. Keep your eyes open, and your mouth shut.”
Celeste bent down and pulled Lumina close, voice quiet, uncertain but kind. “W-we’re together, at least… that has to count for something, doesn’t it?”
Lumina clung tighter to her middle, her voice tiny but cutting. “Maybe… we should call Dad.”
Celeste froze. The word hit like an old wound torn open. Father. The arguments. The walls she’d run from. He wouldn’t understand. He never had.
Still, she fumbled her phone out of her coat. The screen lit up—no signal. She forced a smile, showing Lumina. “See? It’s… it’s nothing. No bars.”
But Lumina’s brow furrowed. She snatched the phone, hugging it tight, her voice trembling but direct. “You’re lying. I know. You just don’t want him to come. Why won’t you let him help us?”
Celeste’s throat closed. She couldn’t answer. Not truthfully.
Behind them, Arcade paced in a tight circle, muttering to himself like a furious lecturer, tail snapping. “Fantastic. Trapped under a dome, giant candy kaiju on the loose, and we’re standing in the open with zero cover. An entire district gone—like it’s been scrubbed clean. Deleted. Poof. Honestly? I’d be impressed if I wasn’t actively terrified.”
Celeste turned slowly, eyes sweeping the deserted candy-stained street. The scent of sugar hung thick in the air, too sweet, too wrong. Smeared lollipop splinters glinted on the pavement. Gummy footprints led to nowhere. The city was dead silent.
The generals were gone. But so was everyone else.
And then the group looked out across the city, now split into seven territories—each ruled by a nightmare wrapped in sweetness.
Above them, the sky shimmered.
The white dragon from earlier—sleek, serpentine, and dazzling—cut through the air with grace, its iridescent scales glinting in the filtered sunlight. It didn’t attack or speak, only circled low, casting a shadow over the team. Its long whiskers danced in the breeze, its golden eyes locking briefly with Celeste’s before it veered upward with a roar that rattled the sugar-glazed buildings.
As it ascended, several scales detached, glimmering like falling stars. The group instinctively raised their arms, shielding themselves as the warm, metallic scales drifted down around them, settling softly like snow.
They exchanged puzzled looks.
“What... does this mean?” Skye asked softly, cradling a scale that thrummed faintly in his hand.
“I-I don’t know,” Celeste murmured, turning one over gently, “but maybe... maybe we’ll need them? They feel... important.”
Before anyone could dwell on it, movement.
Ray suddenly turned down a side street choked with cotton candy vines. Pitch veered the opposite way, jaw tight, shoulders squared.
“Wait—what are you doing?” Celeste called, her voice wobbling as she stepped forward. “We—we should stay together, shouldn’t we? Y-you saw what we’re up against!”
Ray didn’t stop walking. “This is stupid,” she snapped, not even looking back. “I’m not playing dress-up in a sugar zombie war. There’s gotta be a way out of this dome, and I’m gonna find it.”
“Ray, please—” Celeste started, but Pitch cut in.
“I can’t stay either.” His voice was low, steady. He glanced back, eyes dark. “My brother’s in hospital—if he’s even still alive. I’ve gotta find him. I have to.”
Mezzo’s voice cracked high as he flung his paws up. “Tay! Ray! Whatever the feck yer name is—we need your bloody hammer! We’re candy food without it! D’you not get that?! There’s gummy ogres! Licorice skeletons! I don’t wanna be feckin’ nougat!” His accent was thick with panic, almost lyrical.
Arcade looked like he’d just seen a math equation eat itself. His omni-tool flickered in his claws. “This is chaos. Actual chaos. No equations, no stable constants. It’s like someone dumped probability in a blender and pressed ‘purée’. There’s no strategy for that.”
Celeste began pacing too, her pigtails swinging, voice small but urgent. “W-we can’t—we can’t lose anyone else. Please. We need a plan, we really do, or—”
Ray spun around, red eyes flashing. “I said no. You wanna die playing hero? Fine. But I don’t owe you anything.”
Mezzo’s tone cracked, more desperate now. “Ray, c’mon—please. You saw what happened. If we don’t stick together, we’re sugar dust. Just stay, just for tonight. Just for one fight.”
Her laugh was short, bitter. “You’re not my friends. You’re just the last unlucky sods I got stuck with before the world fell apart. I’m not dying for you.”
And with that, she vanished into the cotton candy fog.
Mezzo stood trembling, fists tight at his sides. His voice broke low. “She’s gonna get herself killed.”
Silence. A broken neon sign buzzed overhead.
Arcade finally exhaled, sarcasm laced with resignation. “Brilliant. Two fewer allies. Twice the odds of us being eaten alive. Perfect strategy.”
Neither Ray nor Pitch answered. Within moments, both were gone—swallowed by the warped city.
Silence again.
Mezzo kicked the ground, muttering bitterly. “Well, that went feckin’ brilliant.”
Arcade’s voice was flat, too tired to mask the worry under the scorn. “We can’t stop them. All we can do is… watch the candy eat them.”
She glanced toward the road leading into Beauty Park—once a lush green, laughter-filled space. Now it was a nightmare garden: vines glowing faintly, candy-choked trees drooping under their own syrup weight, colors shifting like a fever dream.
Celeste wrung her hands, ears low. Her voice came out small. “Um… I was thinking… m-maybe we should go to the park? It’s—oh, well, not safe, really, but maybe safer than, um, buildings collapsing on us. Or, y’know, standing out here like biscuits on a tray.” She looked around the group, her eyes pleading. “I-if that’s alright with everyone…”
Arcade arched a brow and glanced at Skye, his voice dry. “Local park full of glowing murder-plants. Sounds like a brilliant tactical choice. Skye?”
Skye fiddled with the strap of his duel device, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “Okay. Yeah. Park’s better than here. Buildings… echo wrong.”
“Feck it,” Mezzo huffed, folding his arms. “If it’s between a sugar centipede and a park bench, I’ll take me chances with the bug pigeons. Count me in.”
Bonbon didn’t speak. She just stood staring blankly at the street, thumb in her mouth, her fur still smudged with marshmallow dust. Celeste’s heart squeezed—she bent down, scooped her up, and held her close. Bonbon leaned into her shoulder instantly, quiet but clinging.
Lumina hadn’t moved. Her little lip trembled, tail coiled tight around her leg. She whispered, almost too quiet to hear: “…What if nobody helps us?”
Celeste bent down, her smile trembling but warm. “I—I don’t know, sweetheart. But we’ll try. Maybe there’ll be police, or soldiers, or… anyone. And until then—” She squeezed Lumina’s paw. “I’ll keep us safe. I promise.”
Lumina’s eyes stayed huge and wet, but after a pause, she slipped her hand into Celeste’s. “…Okay. But if you die, I’m telling Dad.”
Celeste let out a shaky laugh, brushing her sister’s bangs back. “Fair. But I’ll do my best not to, alright?”
With heavy hearts and uneasy steps, the little group turned toward the twisted park, their newly-gifted scales hidden away, uncertainty pressing in with every footfall.
Arcade tapped something on his wrist-mounted tool and muttered, voice low and sardonic as if dictating a log. “Field notes: Day one in the Candy Apocalypse. Survivors have unanimously voted to seek refuge in a corrupted playground. Pros: open sightlines. Cons: literal everything else. Conclusion? We’re all mad. But at least it’ll be interesting data before we die.”
Mezzo shot him a look. “Y’know, you could just say nothing instead of makin’ me more nervous, egghead.”
Arcade smirked faintly. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Skye piped up softly, almost to himself: “Swings creak like ghosts at night. Maybe that’s good camouflage.”
The others turned to stare at him.
Skye blinked, adjusting his duel device. “…What? It makes sense.”
Celeste managed the tiniest smile. “Well… I suppose it sort of does.”
Chapter 16 : The Sweet Sanctuary
As they ventured deeper into Beauty Park, Celeste couldn’t help but marvel at the surreal beauty of it all.
The once-familiar green lawns were now shades of sherbet orange and lime green, and the trees had been overtaken by twisting candy canes and rainbow-colored vines. In the air, glittering butterflies with crystal wings flitted between flower petals that shimmered like gumdrops. Strange jelly frogs, translucent and wobbly, bounced between oversized peppermint lilies, croaking softly in musical tones.
Bonbon and Lumina ran ahead, giggling as they chased after the glowing creatures. Their laughter echoed through the sweet-twisted forest, the sound like sunlight piercing through the strange world around them.
Then they saw it.
In the center of the park, nestled in a glade of caramel grass and licorice ferns, stood a giant candy egg—easily the size of a four-story house. It shimmered in pastel hues, wrapped tightly in the winding limbs of a licorice tree, its bark ruby red and studded with glistening sugar-glass blossoms, each one reflecting the sky like a mirror. Its cotton-candy leaves rustled gently, sending threads of sweetness floating on the wind.
Biscuit steps, soft but sturdy, led up to a crack in the sugar-shell egg—just wide enough to slip through.
Celeste gasped, her eyes shimmering, a smile tugging nervously at her lips. “Ohh… it’s… it’s really lovely, isn’t it? Like—like something out of a storybook, only you can actually touch it.”
Mezzo bounded up beside her, tail swishing like mad, his grin contagious. “Feckin’ hell, this is brilliant! Like a secret base. Y’know, the kind you swore you’d build in the back garden when you were ten, with, like, biscuit walls and no parents allowed.”
Celeste giggled, covering her mouth with one paw. “Yes! Exactly that! Oh, it’s—oh dear, I want to see inside right now.” She bounced on her heels, then darted up the cookie steps, brushing her hand over the sugar-glazed railing like it might vanish if she didn’t.
Mezzo raced after her, boots clacking, practically vibrating with excitement. They stopped at the entrance together, breathless, wide-eyed.
“Ready to explore?” Celeste asked shyly, voice small but bright.
Mezzo smirked, tail flicking. “Always. If we die in here, at least it’ll be tasty.”
As the group prepared to step inside, the sugary wind rustled through the candy trees behind them—as if the park itself was watching.
Arcade, last up the steps, adjusted his glasses with a sniff. “Well. If this isn’t a death pit, it’s statistically the most structurally sound refuge we’ve seen all day. I might even call it… dare I say… promising.”
Something about this place felt safe, at least for now.
The group stepped inside the giant egg, and immediately a wave of sweet warmth and subtle vanilla hit them—not overwhelming, but oddly comforting. The walls were a pastel chocolate, soft in hue but oddly firm and warm to the touch, with the grain and polish of wood, defying all known material logic.
“This… shouldn’t be possible,” Arcade murmured, running his fingers across the surface. “Candy with structural integrity and wood-like properties? This breaks every law I know.”
The interior was vast, far more expansive than the egg’s exterior could account for. Multiple floors spiraled upward, suspended on spiraling licorice supports and candy-cane railings. It was like stepping into a dreamworld treehouse fused with a surreal palace—equal parts playful and impossible.
At the heart of the first floor stood a massive, hardened rainbow lollipop, flat on top like a wide table. The colors swirled hypnotically beneath a glassy sheen.
Lumina pressed her little paws against it and gasped, giggling. “It feels like stone, but it’s sweet! Like… like a castle you can lick!”
Bonbon tapped it with her wand, then scrambled up with all the determination of a cub half her size. Her pacifier bobbed as she squeaked around it: “Cadair! Cadair!” (Chair! Chair!)
Celeste hurried over and gently lifted her onto the gleaming surface. She smiled shyly, smoothing her skirt.
The walls were lined with hexagonal chambers, reminiscent of a beehive, each glowing faintly from within. Inside some, there were shimmering glass columns, each a different hue—blue, pink, violet, lemon-yellow. The light they emitted pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat.
“Ohhh… it’s like… like a library, only sweeter. Or—or maybe an archive, keeping secrets safe.” Her voice caught in wonder, quiet but warm.
In one of the central chambers, suspended midair, was a single item: an encyclopedia with a velvet red cover and golden trim. Arcade’s ears perked as he reached for the book. He flipped it open—blank pages staring back. His tone sharpened, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “Not blank. Waiting. It’s designed to record. If I’m right, this isn’t a book—it’s a living interface, tied to us.”
Mezzo had already bounded halfway up a licorice spiral staircase. He leaned over the railing, tail wagging like mad. “Dibs! This is the base, lads and lasses! We’ve got levels, sweets, architecture—and me, of course. Ten outta ten secret lair.”
Arcade shot him a flat look. “One day your sugar high is going to get us killed.”
As Arcade’s fingers grazed the blank encyclopedia, the golden trim lit up in a pulse of warm light. The book shuddered in his hands, and then—without warning—ink bled onto the pages in swift, elegant script. One by one, illustrations of the monsters they had encountered began to appear: the zombie cat made of wrappers, the marshmallow bunny, the sugar-cube mice.
Alongside the drawings were notes, sketches, even glowing glyphs. Each entry came with descriptions, attack styles, behavioral traits, and—most importantly—weaknesses. The zombie cat’s fear of reflective surfaces. The marshmallow bunny’s vulnerability to heat.
Some entries, though, were only partial. Blurred outlines, scribbled lines of unknown script. Blank spaces remained, as if the book was still waiting to observe or learn more.
Arcade’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “It’s... it’s a bestiary,” he whispered in awe. “A living one. It’s recording everything we face.”
He flipped faster through the pages, skimming rapidly. “Real-time updates. Auto-filling knowledge. Some kind of collective magical database tied to our actions.”
He looked up at the others. “This could help us survive.”
Celeste’s hands trembled as she peered at the entries, her lips parting in awe. “Oh stars… it’s helping us.”
Skye lingered near the door, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the walls. His ears twitched once. “…Doesn’t feel right,” he muttered. “It’s too clean. Too… staged. Like a dream pretending.”
Lumina padded to him, tugging his sleeve softly. “It is scary… but we’re together. That makes it less scary.”
Skye’s gaze softened, if only slightly. “Maybe. But I’m still watching.”
Bonbon plopped down on her “throne,” tail curling around her legs as she sucked her pacifier and mumbled sleepily in Welsh, “Cartref bach…” (Little home…)
The others glanced at her, their smiles faint but real.
Arcade, meanwhile, was already marking new entries with tabs. “This is going to be our most valuable asset. If the book is linked to the magic of this world, then we might be able to document every general. Every weakness.”
And somewhere, deep within the candy-coated walls of their impossible new sanctuary, the book quietly pulsed again, as if listening.
While the others clustered around the glowing bestiary, Celeste drifted away quietly, her steps light against the pastel tiles. She told herself she was just… exploring. Just curious. But really, she needed a breath. A moment.
Her paw brushed along the licorice railing as she followed a side corridor that wound gently upward. At the end was a small, rounded doorway—hardly more than a crack in the candy wall.
Celeste tilted her head. “Oh—hello there,” she whispered softly to no one in particular. She pushed it open.
The space beyond was tiny at first—barely more than a broom cupboard. But the instant she stepped across the threshold, the air rippled.
The walls groaned. The sugar shifted.
And in a blink, the room bloomed into a vast chamber.
Towering sugar-glass pillars stretched up into a high arched ceiling, refracting soft pastel light like cathedral windows. A huge pane of shimmering glass formed at the far end, tinted with pale pinks and blues. Through it she could see a balcony, where candyfloss blossoms drifted in a slow, impossible breeze.
Celeste pressed a paw to her mouth. “Ohh… oh stars. It’s… beautiful.” Her voice shook like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak.
The floor beneath her rippled as though freshly poured—tiles sliding and clicking into pastel patterns. She froze when she realised the design wasn’t random. From above, it would look like her own silhouette—ears, tail, even the fall of her hair.
Her cheeks heated. “This… this is—oh, this is far too much,” she whispered, half-flustered, half in awe.
Behind her, with another soft shimmer, a marshmallow bed unfolded against one wall, dusted with sugar-powder and wrapped in quilted blankets patterned like stars. Bonbon candies dotted the headboard like buttons. Beside it, impossibly, a door opened onto a full bathroom—candy-cane pipes glinting with running water that gurgled cheerfully, defying every known law of physics.
Celeste backed up a step, her hands clutching her chest. She could feel the hum of magic—warm, steady, but heavy. Watching her.
“It’s like… it was made for me,” she murmured, voice small.
She touched one of the sugar-glass pillars and felt it pulse faintly beneath her fingers.
For the first time since the nightmare began, she felt… safe.
And yet the safety carried its own weight.
As if someone, somewhere, already knew who she was meant to be.
Chapter 17 : The Nommipedia
Celeste lingered a little longer in the chamber, her paw brushing the sugar-glass pillar one last time. The glow beneath her touch pulsed gently, as though it was reluctant to let her go. She pressed her lips together in a shy smile, then drew in a steadying breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly to the room, as if it were alive.
With a final glance at the marshmallow bed and drifting blossoms, she stepped back through the doorway. The air rippled again, folding the vast chamber away until it was only a narrow passage once more. She padded down the licorice-railed corridor, her heart still beating quickly with wonder, before rejoining the others.
They hadn’t noticed her slip away, too entranced by the encyclopedia’s glowing pages. But Celeste’s eyes were suddenly drawn elsewhere—toward a soft, rhythmic glow pulsing from across the chamber.
Nestled in a cradle of pastel candy bark and sugar glass, a radiant orb hovered—smaller than the one they’d seen suspended over the town center, but unmistakably similar. It hummed gently, resonating like a heartbeat made of light.
As Celeste stepped closer, a shimmer burst from her chest. A blue light embedded in her core began to glow with a gentle brilliance. It pulsed in sync with the orb—as if calling to it, or responding.
Celeste stared into the glowing orb, transfixed by the way it pulsed—alive, aware, and resonating with something deep inside her.
Then it happened.
Her chest shimmered with a gentle blue glow, the light blooming outward from her core. The others gasped as they too lit up, each with a different hue, each pulsing in sync with the orb. As if it was reading them—calling them by their true names.
Mezzo’s chest burst with bold red, flickering like a rapid heartbeat, hot and fast.
Arcade’s glowed with sharp green light, buzzing with a low hum like static.
Lumina’s shimmered pink, gentle and warm, healing just to witness.
Bonbon’s magenta light pulsed like a tune—melodic and unpredictable.
Skye’s core turned yellow, shifting like a breeze through still water.
As the orb stabilized, the encyclopedia glowed once more. Its pages turned of their own accord until it displayed a new section—runes and shifting candy-like script forming into readable text.
One by one, their glowing cores dimmed. The light that had pulsed in their chests winked out, leaving only the faint ache of what had been.
Celeste clutched at her ribs, worried. “It’s… gone? Did we—did we do something wrong?”
Lumina held her shield up nervously, tapping it with a paw. “Mine went poof,” she whispered, wide-eyed.
Bonbon poked her tummy, then Celeste’s, then giggled. “No glow,” she announced proudly, as if she’d discovered something new.
Arcade was already pacing in a tight circle, omni-tool flickering, his muttering sharp and fast. “Not possible. Hybrids don’t have cores. That’s what the suppressors regulate—static channels, no stable reservoir. And yet—” He jabbed a finger at the encyclopedia in Celeste’s arms. “—those were mana cores. Which means either the laws of biology are broken… or we’re not what we thought we were.”
Mezzo raised both paws like he was announcing a punchline. “Oh, brilliant! First we nearly get eaten by licorice rats, now science itself doesn’t work. Someone explain it to me like I’m five, please.”
“Explaining it to you at all feels like wasted breath,” Arcade shot back, his voice dry but rattled.
Skye, quieter, stared down at his hands, flexing them slowly. “Feels… weird. Like it’s still there. Just hiding.”
Celeste bit her lip, hugging the book to her chest. “So… what does that mean? For us?”
They all turned to the open page. Each entry shimmered, but every one carried gaps—blank spaces where traits, skills, and identities should have been written. Especially Bonbon, Lumina, and Celeste.
But above all the emptiness, in ornate golden script, glowed the same title:
Knights of Clawdiff.
Arcade adjusted his glasses again, voice clipped, precise, but shaking with disbelief. “Alright. Conclusion—none of us are… normal. Not hybrids in the usual sense, anyway.”
He shot Mezzo a sideways look. “Dog and griffon? Explains the barking. And the posturing.”
Mezzo puffed out his chest and struck a pose like he was flexing for a magazine cover. “Oi! Griffon’s feckin’ majestic, mate. I’ll take it. Way cooler than whatever you are—Goat-vampire? What is that, some posh horror brand?”
Bonbon twirled with delight, clapping her little paws. “Llyfr! Llyfr!” she squeaked, eyes sparkling at the glowing book.
Skye stayed crouched, hands glowing faintly. His voice was quiet, careful. “It feels right,” he said simply. Then, after a pause: “…But weird. Like… toothpaste on chips.”
Celeste hugged the encyclopedia closer, her voice small, threaded with nerves. “Mirror…?” she whispered, staring at the strange word etched above her name. “Why don’t I—I don’t even know what that means. Why don’t I know what I am?”
Arcade hesitated, then gave a small shrug, his voice softer but still dry. “Not just you. Lumina and Bonbon’s entries are blank too. If we had access to archives—birth registries, family records—maybe we’d find answers. But…”
Celeste’s ears perked anxiously. “But…?”
He sighed, rubbing his temple. “But right now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is figuring out whether we’re trapped in this candied nightmare, or if there’s even a way out of Clawdiff at all.”
Celeste nodded slowly, wringing her hands. “I never wanted to fight. I just want Lumina safe. Home. That’s all.”
For once, Arcade’s voice softened without sarcasm. “Yeah. I get it. But this—” he gestured at the weapons, the glowing book, the orb “—this feels too neat. Too… designed. Like someone’s watching us play out their twisted little game.”
The orb pulsed faintly in reply, as though mocking them.
Mezzo, who had clearly stopped paying attention halfway through, suddenly clutched his stomach. “Grand speeches aside, lads, I’m starvin’.”
Before anyone could intervene, he snatched up one of the fallen dreamscales and crunched into it like a biscuit.
Mezzo gagged, spitting it back out. “Blegh! That tasted like burnt candyfloss dipped in me ma’s regrets.”
But then—his hands flared red. The scale burst, reshaping in midair—until, with a flash, it solidified into… a full-sized fridge.
The group went silent.
Skye blinked at it, deadpan. “…That’s a fridge.”
Mezzo’s jaw dropped, then his face lit up with awe. “…That’s my fridge.” He ran his paw reverently along the chrome, whispering, “A sacred artefact, born of hunger.”
Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose but was already scribbling furiously. “Dreamscales respond to subconscious intent. Not just needs—desires. He thought about food, it gave him storage. Honestly? Almost impressive. If it wasn’t him.”
Mezzo flung open the door—only to find it empty. “Well that’s tragic. Still magic though. Doesn’t even need power.”
Lumina padded up, solemn as only a seven-year-old could be. She opened her pouch and tucked a handful of strawberry bonbons inside. “For later,” she said simply.
Mezzo closed the door with a flourish, smirking. “Keeping sweets cold in a sugar apocalypse. Now that’s irony.”
Lumina giggled and popped the fridge open again just to check. Inside, her bonbons were now nestled among fresh strawberries—real ones. Bright, ripe, and cold.
The group froze.
Celeste’s ears twitched, her voice hushed with awe. “Oh… stars above. That’s not just magic, is it? That’s—something else entirely.”
Arcade’s eyes narrowed, omni-tool already recording. “The fridge adapted. It didn’t just follow her intent—it improved it. That’s not conjuration, that’s… refinement. Like the scale read her subconscious.”
Everyone’s gaze drifted to the handful of dreamscales they still carried, suddenly aware of just how dangerous—and valuable—they might be.
Celeste hugged her arms close, voice trembling but steady. “We’ll have to be careful. They only give us what we truly… truly need.”
Mezzo waved a paw dramatically, already clutching another scale. “Then clearly the universe knows I need a pizza oven. Don’t judge me, lads, survival requires carbs.”
Arcade sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, by all means, let’s squander reality-bending artefacts on snacks. Maybe next you can manifest a five-star hotel so we can all die in comfort.”
Celeste sank onto the cracked curb just outside the candy-slicked safehouse, staring at the warped skyline of Clawdiff. The air reeked of sugar and burnt plastic, her breath catching as she spoke softly: “We… can’t stay here. We’ll need supplies. Food, water, bandages—anything that’ll help us keep going.”
Arcade adjusted the glowing strap of his omni-tool, tone brisk. “And information. If we can’t map this city, we’re blind. If we can’t decode these abilities, we’re liabilities. Data is survival.”
Mezzo leaned back, yawning loud enough to echo. “And practical clothes, maybe? Because my uniform smells like wet jellybeans and bad decisions.”
Celeste gave him a helpless little look, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile—but Lumina’s small, wavering voice broke the moment. “Maybe… maybe there’s a phone. A real one. We could call home.”
Celeste froze, her chest aching. She pulled her own phone out, screen glowing weakly: No Signal. She showed it, voice soft as a crack. “There isn’t, sweetheart. Nothing’s reaching outside the dome.”
Lumina’s eyes filled with tears. Her small fists balled up. “I want to go home!” she cried, voice cracking.
Celeste knelt down quickly. “I know. I want that too. But if we stick together, we’ll be safer. I promise I’ll try my best, okay?”
Lumina sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
Skye shuffled closer, ears twitching. Without a word, he pulled a lollipop from his pocket and held it out. “…It’s strawberry,” he said shyly.
Lumina blinked, then gave a faint, tearful smile as she took it.
Celeste adjusted her skewed glasses, pushing them back up her nose with a sigh.
Mezzo tilted his head, grinning. “That must be brutal, wearin’ those all the time.”
Celeste gave a tiny shrug. “A little. One of my eyes is stronger than the other. Without them, I just… bump into things. Quite a lot, actually.”
Arcade glanced up from his notes, voice flat but tinged with sincerity. “Same. Can’t make sense of half a screen without mine. Wish I didn’t need them.”
Mezzo blinked, then slapped his paws together. “Right then! Glasses Gang! We’ll get matching jackets, aye?”
Celeste tilted her head, unimpressed but fond. “You don’t even wear glasses.”
Arcade smirked, dry as stone. “He doesn’t even read.”
Mezzo raised both paws like a guilty saint. “Okay, okay, fine! No gang. Just tryin’ to keep spirits up before the next sugar-monster eats us alive.”
But before anyone could take a breath, Bonbon suddenly bolted down the sugar path, laughing wildly. “Bonbon, no—wait!” Celeste called out, already sprinting after her.
The little panda girl didn’t stop. When Celeste finally caught up and scooped her up, Bonbon went stiff as a board in her arms, face scrunched in defiance. And then… she erupted into a full toddler tantrum.
She kicked, wailed, and let out an ear-splitting shriek that made Mezzo cover his ears. “Can we put her on mute?” he grumbled.
Arcade winced. “My nerves are already shot and it’s not even noon.”
Celeste turned slowly, clutching the squirming panda with one arm. Her voice was tight with exhaustion. “I’m trying, okay?” she snapped. “I know nobody here. I don’t have the answers. But if we go to the mall, we might find security. Or shelter. Or maybe even Bonbon’s mother.”
She looked around at all of them, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “But if everyone could just chill out for five minutes, that would be great—because I am officially freaking out right now!”
A long silence followed. Even Bonbon quieted down, blinking.
Mezzo raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Whatever. Mall’s still a good idea.”
No one argued. Slowly, the group gathered themselves and began moving again.
Lumina walked silently with arms crossed, still upset but following closely behind. Celeste took a deep breath. She didn’t feel ready to lead anyone.
But for now—she had to.
Chapter 18 : Echoes in the Atrium
Night had fallen, casting a haunting stillness over the city. The group made their way through the abandoned mall, their footsteps echoing off cracked tiles and shattered glass. Bright advertisements still flickered overhead—endless loops of fashion promos and perfume commercials, now eerily out of place in the sugar-coated dystopia.
Celeste’s eyes swept over the wreckage—chairs overturned, prams abandoned, bags scattered like breadcrumbs. No people. Only the gouges across the floor and walls, jagged and desperate.
Her ears folded back slightly as she crouched to trace one with her paw. “It’s like… oh, stars… it’s like they were dragged,” she whispered, her voice small but heavy.
Arcade stepped up beside her, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. His tone was flat, clinical—but his eyes carried a sharp edge. “No blood. No bodies. Just mess. Whatever happened here? It wasn’t random. It was systematic.”
Celeste looked up at him, worry flickering in her eyes. She didn’t need to say anything. The glance between them said enough: something had taken these people. And it was still out there.
“Oi!” Mezzo’s shout shattered the tension. “FREE CLOTHES!”
They whipped around to see him strutting out of a still-lit clothing store, already changed into three-quarter brown shorts, a loose red button-up with rolled sleeves, and a black undershirt. He smoothed the fabric dramatically, slapping his old badge onto his chest like a medal. “First job uniform, baby! D’you see this? Minimum wage chic! Nostalgia has never looked this good.”
Celeste groaned softly, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Mezzo… only you would treat the end of the world like a costume contest.”
Still, she followed him in. Her paws ached from the cracked leather of her boots. Spotting a sleek pair of blue trainers, she slipped them on with a sigh of relief. Before leaving, she tugged off the tiny wing charms from her old shoes and carefully clipped them to the new pair.
It was such a small thing, but it steadied her.
“If I’m going to be a disaster,” she muttered under her breath, “I may as well be a coordinated one.”
The others trickled in, scavenging—belts, jackets, anything sturdy. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt normal. The shadows beyond the storefront made that illusion too fragile, too temporary.
Lumina, meanwhile, had vanished into the toy shop with the younger kids. Celeste found her buried in a heap of plushies, a unicorn bobbing on her head as she hummed to herself.
“Look, ‘Leste!” Lumina held up a pastel bear missing one eye. “He’s sad, but I’ll fix him.”
Celeste’s chest squeezed tight. The sweetness of it cut sharp against the dread curling in her stomach. She crossed her arms, watching with a mix of fondness and urgency. “Take him but we don’t have much time,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the echoing shouts bouncing through the dark mall corridors.
Arcade was already on the move, fiddling with his arcbracer, muttering, “This place is a labyrinth. Worst possible choke point. We shouldn’t linger.”
Mezzo, twirling a belt around like a lasso, grinned. “What’s life without a little mall crawl, eh? Bags, bargains, and brain-eaters—it’s all part of the experience!”
Then—noise.
A dull crash echoed from deeper in the mall, followed by the faint scrape of something heavy being dragged. Distant, but not distant enough.
Both Mezzo and Arcade froze mid-motion. Slowly, they turned to Celeste, eyes wide with the same unspoken fear.
Arcade swallowed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “That… didn’t sound like plumbing.”
Mezzo forced a crooked smile, but his tail betrayed him—tucked and twitching. “Welp. Guess the fun part’s over.”
The two of them exchanged a wary glance before stepping forward, shoulders tense.
Arcade adjusted his omni-tool, the glow of its screen shaking slightly in his hands. “We’ll check it. Quietly.”
Mezzo gave Celeste a lopsided salute that didn’t hide his unease. “Back in a sec. If it’s just a raccoon in the bins, feel free to laugh at us later.”
And with that, the pair slipped out toward the noise—leaving Celeste clutching Lumina’s shoulder a little tighter.
Celeste stepped forward quickly, her voice hushed but firm as she rested a hand on Lumina’s shoulder. “Stay here, love. Please. No matter what happens.”
Lumina blinked up at her, chewing her lip. Then, in a small but steady voice: “But you always say that, and then you run off.”
Celeste froze—caught between guilt and resolve.
“…This time,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from Lumina’s face, “I’ll come back.”
What they found was startling.
Ray—tough, brash Ray—was running for her life. Sweat poured down her face, panic in her eyes. A small horde of gummy-eyed zombies swarmed her across the tiled atrium.
Arcade’s brows shot up. “She’s not even swinging. Where’s the hammer?”
Mezzo leaned forward, squinting—then burst out laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. “She looks like a feckin’ cartoon character leggin’ it! Like a cat in a frying pan!”
But as Ray bolted toward their side of the atrium—toward Celeste’s direction—something changed. Both girls began to glow faintly, a shimmering pulse of energy linking them. And suddenly—with a whoosh of air and flickering purple light—Ray’s massive spiked hammer materialized in her hands.
She skidded to a stop, eyes wide in shock. “Finally!” She didn’t waste time asking why. With a shout of defiance, Ray spun around and tore through the zombies in wide arcs of crushing force. They pixelated into neon confetti and fragments of candy as they fell.
Meanwhile, back at the toy store, the children giggled and played among the soft mounds of plush creatures. Bonbon was hugging a bunny twice her size. Lumina poked at a stuffed dragon with curious eyes.
But Skye froze mid-step. His ears twitched. “…Wait.”
He pointed. “That one. Don’t touch it.”
Among the cutesy bears and smiling unicorns sat a plushie that didn’t quite fit. Its eyes were too wide, its teeth stitched into a creepy jagged smile. On closer inspection, it was one of the sugar mice from earlier—a twisted version of the first creature they’d fought.
Skye took a step back, pale. “It’s a Sugar Rusher,” he whispered, involuntarily naming the species. Celeste’s heart dropped.
She turned and ran, boots thudding down the hallway back toward the toy store. As she approached, the familiar aura between her and Ray faded, and with it— Fzzzt— Ray’s hammer vanished into thin air. Ray looked around in shock, suddenly vulnerable again.
Celeste skidded to a stop. Her chest heaved. The pieces fell together in her mind—horrible, undeniable.
“The weapons…” she whispered, voice shaking. “They’re—oh stars, they’re tethered. To me.”
Arcade caught up, breathless, omni-tool still flickering at his wrist. His tone was clipped, sharp. “Confirmed. Distance cut the connection. You’re the power source, Celeste. No you, no weapons.”
Celeste froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
Her ears drooped, panic overtaking her face. “Oh no, no no no… then it’s my fault! I’m the reason she can’t fight—I’m ruining everything—what do I do, what do I do—”
Her hands trembled as they clenched into fists, her heartbeat crashing like waves in her ears. Her gaze darted between Ray and Lumina—one pinned down under fire, the other wounded and vulnerable.
And now, for the first time, Celeste faced a terrible choice: Stay with Ray and help her survive… Or stay with Lumina—and protect the children.
The shout of the sugar rusher echoed from the corridor as Celeste skidded back into the plush pile where Lumina stood, frozen, clutching Bonbon to her chest. At the far end of the mall, Ray was cornered again—desperately swinging her fists as the glow of her hammer faded to nothing.
There wasn’t time to choose. Not again.
Ray staggered backward, eyes wild. “Why does this always bloody happen? Why can’t I ever—just—hold onto something?!” Her hammer fizzled out of existence, leaving her hands shaking and empty.
Bonbon stirred in Lumina’s arms. She opened her mouth and—softly, unexpectedly—began to sing.
It was a strange, haunting tune. One that hummed deep in the chest more than the ears. The air shimmered faintly with a golden hue. The sugar rusher paused, blinking, disoriented.
Celeste looked down as her core shimmered a brilliant blue. She could feel something—Bonbon’s song unlocking something in her, like a gate unlatching inside her chest.
“I… I can reach her,” Celeste whispered, her voice trembling. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, imagining her fear unraveling into ribbons of light.
A thin thread of shimmering blue energy extended from her chest—first toward Lumina, then branching like a neural pulse—reaching out toward Ray.
At the far end of the hall, Ray gasped as her chest glowed. Her hammer sparked back into existence, roaring with purple energy.
She grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”
With one brutal swing, she knocked the sugar rusher back into a wall. The creature pixelated violently, leaving only a swirl of candy behind.
Lumina’s pink glow pulsed in harmony with Celeste’s blue, while Bonbon’s golden hum wove between them, binding the three lights together like a braid.
A conduit. A net. A link.
Arcade froze mid-step, eyes wide behind his glasses. “You’re… you’re bridging their cores. Like a live mana relay.” His voice trembled with awe and disbelief in equal measure. “That’s not possible. Hybrids don’t even have cores. None of this makes sense.”
Then—his own arm began to glow. A sharp blue pulse raced from his wrist to his palm, light sparking in jagged arcs. He stumbled back, clutching at it—
—and with a cheerful ding, something shimmered into existence.
From the glow above his shoulder, a palm-sized spherical robot blinked awake. Its eyes—one red, one blue—lit up as its little antenna spun. It hovered, bobbing slightly in the air like it had always been there.
“Salutations, Master Arcade!” Chip chirped brightly. “Would you like me to run a diagnostic, or should I just scream and pretend this is fine?”
Arcade gawked. “…You just—summoned yourself out of my arm?”
“Correction!” Chip said smugly, projecting a hologram of Celeste’s glowing chest cavity. “I was summoned via your brand-new mana core. Congratulations, you’re officially magical! Side effects may include glowing ribs, accidental lightning, and a persistent urge to monologue.”
Arcade pointed furiously at the hologram. “You’re telling me she ate a bioweapon—and now I can conjure talking hardware?!”
Celeste hunched her shoulders, ears drooping, her voice small. “...I really thought it was a gumdrop.”
Chip continued, undeterred. “The substance restructured her biology, allowing her to convert mana into a stable power core. She now functions as a central hub—rerouting ambient and partner mana through her body via thought-activated transmission. This includes weapon summoning, defensive boosts, and shared emotional feedback.”
Arcade’s jaw dropped. “Hold on—so I can channel my mana independently now, but it still runs through her? That’s what you’re saying?”
“Correct!” Chip chirped cheerfully. “Your flow remains tethered to her core. Her biology and mana imprint form what we call a high-resonance hybrid interface. She doesn’t merely replicate mana—she synchronizes it.”
Arcade squinted. “Fantastic. So I’ve known her all of ten minutes, and my life force is now hard-wired to her circulatory system. That’s not unnerving at all.”
Chip’s tone dropped into mock sympathy. “You’re tethered, sir. No refunds. Terms and conditions apply.”
Celeste flushed, giving a tiny, awkward wave. “Um… s-surprise? And, um… sorry about… being your, uh… router?”
Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable. I spend a decade engineering mana stabilizers—blood, sweat, equations—and you, Astallan, eat one cursed jawbreaker and turn into the city’s first walking Wi-Fi tower.”
Bonbon squealed, clapping her paws. “Mae hi mor ddisglair nawr!” (“She’s so shiny now!”)
And despite the chaos, the exhaustion, and the strangeness of it all… Celeste smiled softly.
She didn’t understand what she was becoming.
But for the first time in a very long while—
She felt connected.
Chapter 19 : Glitch Hearts and Gummy Shadows
Ray’s fists were a blur, every punch and kick laced with burning frustration as she drove back a hulking candy brute. Her breaths came ragged, but her eyes burned, refusing to falter.
From above, a sharp guitar riff cut through the chaos—then a body dropped beside her with a heavy thunk.
Mezzo grinned, swinging a guitar-shaped battle axe he’d just pulled from his glowing chest. “Figured you could use a hand, lass. Try not to hog all the fun.”
Ray scoffed, but didn’t argue, moving in sync with him as the weapon’s jagged chords split sugar-flesh and scattered shards across the street.
“Observation!” Chip chimed from above, whirring as his antenna glowed. “Your combined form is what I’d charitably call ‘adequate.’ Ray, less broody shoulder tension. Mezzo, try aiming your swings instead of cosplaying a windmill.”
Mezzo snarled mid-swing. “You’re this close to being punted into a fudge fountain, toaster.”
Arcade adjusted his glasses, ignoring them. “So… our cores are summoning weapons. Like bound weapons, yeah?”
“That is correct!” Chip trilled, wings buzzing smugly.
Arcade’s ears twitched. “Technically, aren’t you that? A bound construct?”
“Bingo!” Chip shot him a holographic gold star sticker. “Man, you’re smart today. Have a sticker.”
Arcade growled, paw swiping through the projection. “Whatever. Then do all our cores work the same way? Same functions?”
“Nope!” Chip said cheerfully. “They’re connected through Celeste’s core. Hers is the only stable one. The rest of you are echoes—reflections. Without her as a hub, you’d be unstable as all hell.”
Arcade froze. “What do you mean?”
Chip’s antenna flicked. “Additional note: Celeste and Lumina’s cores are… different. Unique configurations. My data banks contain no prior match.”
Arcade’s voice cracked. “Wait, wait—I ate that candy too. So what does that make me? Like… a mythic? A knock-off version?!”
“Error,” Chip replied happily. “I have no data to compare it to. Please consult your local deity.”
Celeste hunched her shoulders, ears drooping, her voice small. “It was probably the gumdrop…”
Arcade dragged his paws down his face. “This is too weird. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. But—fine. We’ll figure it out later.”
Chip spun a loop in the air, clearly pleased. “Excellent plan! Confusion is best processed under mortal peril!”
From the far side of the plush-covered concourse, Skye raised his modified card launcher. A soft hum vibrated through the air as a new card slipped into place. With a flick, a cute water imp popped into existence—its big eyes blinked once before launching a bubbling orb of water directly at the sugar rusher mid-lunge.
Splash—ZAP!
The rusher shrieked as steam hissed off its form, melting into nothing but dripping caramel goo. Another EXP burst popped into the air above it.
+30 EXP +Sugar dust (Common Drop)
“Brilliant shot!” Celeste gasped, her voice bright with awe.
Skye blinked, his ears twitching, cheeks turning a faint red. “There was… an opening. I just took it,” he mumbled, eyes darting to his shoes. His hands tugged his sleeves down, like attention itself was too heavy.
Arcade adjusted his glasses, tilting his head in thought. “Calculated response under pressure. Nicely done. Didn’t think you had it in you, cousin.”
Skye shrugged faintly. “Neither did I.”
Ray, meanwhile, had just finished hammering a fudge hound into a sticky heap of chocolate and candy shards. She stood there panting, hair half-loose from its braid, but her grin was sharp. Her eyes burned with wild energy.
“Guess I’m not dead weight after all,” she huffed, flicking a clump of toffee off her arm.
Above the team, soft glows shimmered across their wrists—bars of light forming in different colors. Celeste’s blue, Mezzo’s red, Arcade’s green… Ray’s was nearly empty.
Arcade narrowed his eyes. “Health meter. And hers is about to bottom out.”
Celeste’s breath caught. “Ray—you’re hurt. You need to stop, just for a moment.”
Ray scoffed, tossing her braid back. “Relax, blondie. I’ve been worse.”
But Lumina tugged Celeste’s sleeve, whispering urgently. “Like in games… when health is low… you heal it, right?”
Celeste bent down. “You think you can try?”
Lumina bit her lip, nervous—but Bonbon hummed softly in her arms, glowing. That glow passed into Lumina’s palms as she reached toward Ray’s wrist. A warm pink light spilled over Ray’s health bar, filling it little by little. A soft chime echoed, bright and hopeful.
Ray stared at it, caught off guard. “...Okay. That’s… new.”
Arcade scribbled furiously in his notes, muttering. “Adaptive mechanics. Our cores aren’t static—they’re evolving with stimulus.”
Ray’s aura flared violet, sharp-edged and impatient, sparking like stormlight in glass. She flexed her hand, trying again for the hammer—nothing came.
Her hoodie was gone now, left behind in the chaos. The cropped tee and plaid skirt beneath stood stark against the wreckage, black boots scuffed, her braid ragged. She looked less like a runaway corporate employee and more like someone carved out of raw survival.
She turned her back to them, fists tight. “...Thanks,” she muttered, the word dragging like it hurt.
Celeste gave a tentative smile. “You’re welcome.”
Ray’s shoulders rose and fell with a sharp breath. “Guess I needed you guys after all.”
Silence hung—awkward, heavy.
“But don’t get used to it,” she added quickly, spinning around with fire in her eyes. “My powers only show up when she’s around.” She jabbed a claw toward Celeste. “That’s a problem.”
Arcade tapped his notes, eyes gleaming. “Proximity anchor. Celeste isn’t just powering us—she’s the relay.”
Ray narrowed her gaze. “So what—you’re saying I’m a side quest in someone else’s story?”
Mezzo leaned against a shattered rail, smirking. “Side quest? Nah. You’ve got ‘loud, chaotic main character energy’ written all over you.”
Ray scowled. “Shut it, pup.”
But her aura flickered again—strong, then unsteady. Not just power—conflict.
She looked back at the others—Skye picking at a glowing card, Lumina comforting Bonbon, Celeste trying to keep her own doubts buried. They were a strange group, fragile and awkward in their own ways. Not heroes. Not warriors. Not even friends, yet. Still, she wasn’t dead. And she felt powerful—more powerful than she’d ever been.
Ray crossed her arms, glaring at her reflection in the cracked candy-glass window. “Fine. I’ll stick around. But don’t think for a second I trust any of you.”
Mezzo shrugged, surprisingly level. “Grand. Just don’t get yourself killed tryin’ to prove a point. Ain’t worth it.”
Ray scoffed but didn’t argue.
She stood tense, arms folded like steel. Mezzo tried again, a little softer this time. “Like it or not, we’re stronger together, y’know. Safer in numbers.”
Ray’s lip curled. “Safer? Please. More people just means more ways to get stabbed in the back.”
Celeste gave her the gentlest smile, lifting a hand shyly. “Still… welcome. Truly.” She held it out, tentative.
Ray looked at the offered hand… then brushed past, shoulder-checking her. Celeste let her arm drop with a quiet sigh, ears flicking down.
Arcade adjusted his cracked glasses, smirking faintly. “For what it’s worth, our next stop is the police station. If anyone still has answers—or weapons—it’ll be there. Unless you’d prefer wandering in circles until the candy eats you.”
Ray froze mid-step, ears twitching. Listening, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
Arcade tilted his head. “Also—you’re walking the wrong way.”
Ray snapped back, eyes flashing. “I knew that.”
Mezzo grinned wide. “Sure ye did, Daywalker.”
Her eyes glowed purple, voice sharp as a blade. “Say that again and I’ll pin your ears to your skull.”
Celeste quickly slid between them, both hands raised. “P-please, no fighting. Not when we’re all so tired.”
Ray rolled her eyes hard, but turned—this time stomping in the right direction.
Bonbon yawned from her nest of plushies, rubbing her eyes with tiny paws. Celeste’s expression softened instantly. She scooped the cub up, nestling her against her hip. “Aw… somebody missed nap time,” she said warmly, almost singing it.
She looked to Mezzo. “Would you mind carrying Lumina for a bit? I’ve only got two arms.”
Mezzo threw up both paws. “Absolutely not. I don’t do babysittin’.”
Celeste frowned, a little wounded. “She’s not a baby…”
“Baby adjacent. Same thing.”
Lumina immediately stuck out her tongue. “You’re dumb.”
Mezzo staggered back dramatically. “Ach! She speaks! The little one’s roasted me alive!” He made a loud gagging noise, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.
Arcade muttered, rubbing his temples. “Yes. This circus act is definitely what’ll save Clawdiff.”
And yet… despite the bickering, the rolled eyes, the tired feet— They kept walking.
Toward the police station. Toward answers. Or at least—the next chapter in their strange, glitching story.
The city was unnervingly silent as the group hurried through the cracked streets, shadows stretching long beneath the sickly glow of candy-colored neon signs. Celeste cradled Bonbon tightly against her chest, careful not to jostle the toddler, who whimpered softly but refused to be put down. Lumina kept pace beside her, eyes wide and frantic, her hands trembling as she tried to steady her breathing.
Arcade jogged ahead, omni-tool flickering, muttering to himself. “Too quiet,” he said, tone edged with suspicion. He adjusted his glasses, scanning the sugar-slick streets. “And when it’s too quiet? That usually means something very loud and very teeth-shaped is about to—”
The alley to their left erupted with a guttural growl.
“Run!” Celeste squeaked, clutching Bonbon to her chest like a shield. Her voice wavered, but she forced it louder. “P-please, everyone—run!”
Mezzo was already at the back, eyes wide. “Ah feck! Outta a sweet shop nightmare—MOVE!”
The group bolted, pounding toward the looming silhouette of the police station. Celeste’s heart thudded like a drum; Bonbon whimpered against her, sticky tears matting her fur.
Behind them, the horde snapped and shuffled faster.
Lumina’s hands hovered uselessly, panic twisting her face. “I don’t know what to do!” she cried, stumbling as she looked back at the pursuing creatures.
Arcade’s breath hitched, nearly tripping over rubble. “Brilliant,” he snapped, half to himself. “This is how geniuses die—trampled by toffee-flavoured corpses.”
Ray skidded to a stop, fangs bared, eyes blazing violet. “Enough whining!” she barked. She slammed her hammer through the nearest zombie’s jaw with bone-cracking force, syrup spraying. “Go! I’ll cover!”
She ripped another apart and then sprinted to rejoin them, snarling. “Don’t make me do all the heavy lifting, kids!”
Celeste gasped for breath, her voice breaking but still determined. “J-just a little further! We’ll be safe soon, I promise—”
Her promise wavered as her eyes stung with sweat. She could only hope it was true.
Finally, the looming police station came into view. The heavy doors stood ajar, yawning like a broken jaw.
Mezzo staggered up first, clutching his side, his grin shaky but defiant. “Thank the stars—we made it! Open up, lads! Anyone still breathin’ in there?”
His voice cracked into the empty dark.
Silence answered.
The team exchanged hollow looks, hope draining away like the fading light.
Behind them, the sea of zombies spilled into the street, closing in relentlessly.
Lumina bolted for the payphone, almost tripping over her own boots. Her small paws fumbled the receiver, dialing desperately with trembling fingers.
She pressed it to her ear. Static. Nothing.
Her lip wobbled. “It’s broken! It’s not— it’s not working!” Tears streaked her cheeks, her voice rising to a raw, childlike cry.
Celeste was there in a heartbeat, crouching beside her, voice soft and shaking. “Oh, sweetheart—don’t cry. We’ll… we’ll find another way. I promise.” She tried to steady her own trembling hands, brushing Lumina’s hair from her eyes, even though her own voice cracked.
Then, a sudden roar echoed overhead.
A brilliant white dragon—majestic and fierce—swooped down, its iridescent scales shimmering like the first morning light. It unleashed a torrent of blazing energy, incinerating the zombie horde with dazzling precision.
The team watched in awe as the dragon’s power cleared the street, the monsters reduced to sparkling dust.
A warm, radiant light enveloped them all. They felt it surge through their veins—strengthening, awakening.
+1,000 EXP + Dreamshards (Legendary Drop)
LEVEL UP! ➤ Level 3 Achieved!
Two levels of power rose within them, new abilities crackling at their fingertips.
The dragon’s golden eyes met Celeste’s for a moment—a silent acknowledgment—before it lifted into the sky, vanishing beyond the city’s ruined skyline.
Celeste exhaled, hope rekindled but tempered by the brutal truth that the fight was far from over.
The group stumbled inside the police station, doors creaking shut behind them. The once-bustling hub of law and order was now eerily silent and deserted. Rows of empty desks lay scattered with abandoned paperwork, flickering monitors casting cold light onto the cracked tiles.
Arcade moved quickly toward the security room, eyes scanning for any signs of life or help. The security monitor flickered on, displaying a loop of chilling footage.
The camera showed crowds of terrified citizens running through the mall and city streets, only to be overtaken by the candy zombies. Some were dragged away, struggling and screaming; others were ripped apart and devoured whole, their bodies disappearing into the grotesque mouths of the creatures.
Then the footage shifted — a grainier, closer-angle shot, like it came from a hacked surveillance drone. Ordinary people were changing, their bodies convulsing, swelling, skin splitting as candy-crusted flesh tore through like blooming rot. Mythics transformed first — grotesque, monstrous versions of themselves, their powers amplified by the infection. One dragon-blooded mythic roared, wings tearing from their back before they turned and ripped through a crowd of civilians.
Hybrids were automatically targeted. Candy Zombies swooped in from above, tagging them with powers or bites, stunning them into unconsciousness before dragging them away by the dozens into dark, waiting pods.
Worse still, anyone who fought back — humans, mythics, hybrids alike — anyone who showed aggression toward the zombies… was eaten. But those who didn’t? Who froze, who screamed, who surrendered?
They were captured.
Cocooned in sticky webbing. Stuffed into transport pods. Taken.
Arcade’s pupils shrank. His fingers slipped off the console. “This—this is wrong. This breaks every model—” His stomach lurched, and before he could finish, he doubled over and vomited hard against the wall.
The silence after was unbearable.
Mezzo’s voice cracked as he forced a grin that didn’t land. “We—we can’t be the only ones left, right? Motherlight, there’s gotta be others. Someone with sense, someone with a bloody exit plan.” His paws shook as he rubbed them against his jeans.
Celeste stepped closer to Lumina, drawing her near. Her voice was soft but firm, trying to hold everyone together. “If you run off now, Mezzo… you’ll die. We’re all each other has.”
Mezzo swallowed hard, struggling against the rising tide of fear.
From the corner, Ray scoffed, crossing her arms tight. “Listen to yourselves. You sound like scared kids. Which—newsflash—we are. If I had my old crew? We’d be storming this nightmare already. But you lot?” Her eyes cut toward Celeste like a blade. “You’ve got the aura of someone who’s never even been punched.”
Celeste flinched but steadied herself, cheeks warm, eyes defiant. “Y-you’re not wrong. But I still… I still want to live.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of truth pressing down on them all.
Celeste’s voice broke the silence, steady but hopeful. “Maybe if we go to the archives, we can find some answers. Maybe there’ll be people there. Someone who can help.”
Mezzo threw up his paws, guitar-axe slung across his back. “Council’s the only lot with real firepower. Flying dreadnoughts, whole bloody armies—they could swat a dragon out of the sky. You really think a bunch of mythics in caravans are going to do more than sing campfire songs?”
Ray bristled, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare mock them. My old crew is still out there—tougher than you’ll ever be. And those ‘campfire songs’ got us through raids the Council never lifted a paw to stop. The mythics have fortifications. They move, they adapt. They’ve survived worse than this.”
Arcade adjusted his glasses, voice flat. “Statistically, the Council may be the best shot. They’ve got resources—factories, soldiers, weapons. Mythics? No offense, but they’re a caravan, not a war machine.”
Ray snapped her hammer into her paw with a hiss of purple sparks. “That caravan could outlast every pureblood fortress you’ve ever seen. They don’t sit in glass towers waiting to be eaten alive. They fight dirty. They live free.”
Mezzo stepped forward, nose almost touching hers. “And when the dragon swoops down? What then? You gonna throw your caravan wheels at it? Council’s terrifying, aye, but at least they’ve got the guns to keep us alive.”
The two glared at each other, tension hot enough to crackle the air. Both turned, almost at the same time, to Celeste.
“We need her,” Mezzo growled.
“She’s the only one who makes either option possible,” Ray countered.
Celeste swallowed, pulling Lumina closer, her voice trembling but gentle. “I… I don’t know which side is right. But if you fight each other, there won’t be any side left to run to.”
For a heartbeat, it almost seemed to reach them.
Ray’s eyes narrowed. She summoned her hammer with a snap, the familiar purple glow blazing around her. “Screw this. I’m gone.”
But just like before, the hammer flickered—and vanished. Ray’s knees buckled, and she collapsed hard onto the cracked pavement outside the police station. A frustrated scream tore from her throat.
Her fury surged at the nearest target—Celeste. She lunged, seizing her arm. “You’re coming with me. Now.”
Celeste yelped, stumbling back, her katanas flaring into existence in clumsy light. She raised them anyway, her voice cracking as she pleaded, “P-please—stop. I have my sister. I won’t leave her.”
Ray laughed bitterly, teeth bared. “Please? Stars above, you’re softer than marshmallow guts.”
Then she charged. Hammer against blades. Celeste flew backward under the weight, her back smashing across the tiles.
Mezzo panicked, throwing himself between them. “Oi! If you kill her, there goes your shiny feckin’ hammer, genius!”
Ray snarled and slammed the ground at his feet. The impact sent a signboard tumbling down. Celeste dove, shoving Mezzo clear—only for the rubble to pin Ray instead.
Gasping, straining, Ray found herself stuck. Celeste staggered up, hair in her face, chest heaving. She stood over her, blades trembling in her grip.
“I—I’m sorry,” Celeste stammered, her words firm despite the tremor. “But if you can’t play along, we won’t make it. Please. Just… stay. Until we find help.”
Ray glared up at her, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. At last, a reluctant nod.
Celeste reached out. Helped her up.
Ray shoved past her shoulder and stormed toward the archive entrance without another word.
Mezzo blew out a shaky laugh, voice still too loud for the silence. “Well, that was… kind of you.”
Skye muttered flatly from the side, his lips twitching at the irony. “Kind. For someone with swords.”
Celeste sighed, letting her katanas fade, shoulders heavy. The truce was uneasy—but it held. For now.
The Grand Archive of Clawdiff towered over them—foreboding and silent. Its statues, once dignified representations of Clawdiff’s founders, were now smeared with gum, candyfloss, and congealed caramel. Like everything else in the city, it had been warped by the sweet corruption.
Inside, the building was eerily abandoned. Rows of old terminals blinked lifelessly. Papers littered the floor, and the faint smell of burnt sugar hung in the air.
Arcade marched straight to the central console, muttering under his breath. He jabbed the screen. Dead. Flipped a manual switch. Still dead.
“Of course,” he sighed, voice dripping with dry disdain. “Why would anything in this candy-coated hellhole work the first time?” His quills snapped faintly with static, irritation bleeding into sparks.
Then—bzzt. The console flickered, lights stuttering to life.
Everyone turned.
Skye tilted his head, ears twitching. “...Did you just… tase the computer back awake?”
Arcade blinked, then smirked. “Apparently. Add ‘defibrillator’ to my CV.”
Without missing a beat, he bent over the console, claws flying across the interface. What should’ve been a labyrinth of broken code and firewalls dissolved like wet paper under his touch.
Celeste watched, her hands fidgeting with her sleeve hem. “That looks… complicated.”
Arcade snorted softly. “For anyone else, sure. For me? It’s like sudoku for toddlers.”
He didn’t look up, but his muzzle twitched in amusement. “By the way… you strike me as the kind of girl who plays the worst romance routes in every game. All the tragic ones. Am I wrong?”
Celeste blinked, then let out a surprised, soft laugh. “Oh—oh, Stars, no, you’re… you’re right. Absolutely right.”
Arcade grinned sideways. “Thought so. Anime.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Anime…?”
“That’s your nickname now. What I’ll yell when you inevitably mess something up.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. Her tail flicked nervously. And then—without thinking—she gasped. “Y-your nickname should be Static!”
Arcade froze mid-command. His goggles lifted just enough for her to catch the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Celeste flushed red, words tumbling over each other. “S-sorry! I only meant, um—you zapped the system, and it worked, so… Static. It made sense in my head—”
Celeste’s breath caught, then she smiled shyly, hope blooming behind her embarrassment. Maybe… just maybe… she’d made a new friend.
Of course, Mezzo ruined it by leaning over with his usual grin, tapping her nose with a paw. “Oi, hang on—where’s my nickname, princess? Don’t leave your favourite dalmatian out.”
Mezzo reared back like she’d stabbed him. “Spots?! Ach, that’s bloody obvious! Predictable as shite!” He paused, grinned. “...I’ll take it anyway. From you.” He winked, tail flicking smugly.
Celeste covered her mouth as she giggled again, cheeks pink.
For the first time in hours, the air felt lighter. Almost normal.
But the archive itself was a nightmare. Shelves toppled, databanks mislabeled, corrupted memory feeds stacked like spaghetti code.
Arcade groaned, throwing up his hands. “Of course. It looks like someone let toddlers drunk on sherbet design a filing system.”
He tapped his wrist. With a shimmer of light, his little robot unfolded, antenna spinning. “Chip, catalogue by keyword priority: city layout, power grid, dimensional rifts, anomalies. In ascending order of not killing us instantly.”
Chip beeped cheerfully, waddling off into the chaos.
Celeste folded her arms, sighing. “Do I ever get any privacy again?”
Arcade smirked without looking up. “Not while I’m in the room, Anime.”
Celeste rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curved upward as she found an old wooden chair intact. She gently set Bonbon in it. The toddler yawned, curled up with her mask, and drifted off instantly—oblivious to the storm around them.
Ray the fox leaned against the wall, clearly uninterested in the whole operation. She scrolled aimlessly through her dead phone, more out of habit than hope. Every so often, her violet eyes flicked toward the entrance as if she were planning an escape. She kept tugging at her loose necktie, fidgeting restlessly.
Arcade, meanwhile, was in his element. His fingers danced over the dusty keyboard, eyes darting between screens. He summoned his robot companion, C.H.I.P, which beeped steadily beside him with each uploaded file, its mechanical arms organizing data faster than any of them could.
Celeste lingered by the shelves, fiddling with a loose ribbon on her sleeve. She glanced over at Mezzo—who was standing on a desk, tossing papers into the air like confetti.
“You’re… really not helping,” she said gently, a little exasperated.
Mezzo grinned, wagging his tail. “Sure I am, lass. Helpin’ morale. Everyone loves a paper storm!”
Celeste pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “You’re insufferable.”
“Thank ye kindly.”
In the far corner, Lumina hugged her knees, her voice small. “I miss home…”
Skye sat cross-legged beside her, flipping a card through his fingers. “Yeah. I miss my dad.”
Lumina tilted her head. “What about your mum?”
Skye froze. His ears twitched, eyes going distant, shutters slamming down behind them. He said nothing—didn’t even blink—until Lumina hummed softly and changed the subject.
Mezzo flopped back into a chair, stretching like he’d just run a marathon. “So then…” he said, wagging his brows at Celeste, “what d’you reckon Ray’s nickname oughta be?”
Ray didn’t even glance up from her corner. “Don’t. Even. Think about it.”
Celeste leaned toward Mezzo, covering her mouth with her paw like a conspirator. “...Sunshine.”
Mezzo blinked. “Sunshine?”
Celeste giggled softly. “Because she’s like… a ray of sunshine.”
Ray’s eyes snapped up, glowing faintly violet. “Say that again, and I’ll show you exactly where to shove the sunshine.”
Mezzo barked a laugh. “Ooooh, that wasn’t a no! Progress!”
“Try it, Spots,” Ray growled, “and you’ll be coughin’ glitter for a week.” But the twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. She didn’t quite hate it.
At the main console, Arcade stopped mid-command, his eyes narrowing. He muttered something to himself before pulling a batch of decrypted files into order. He tossed them onto the table with a flick of his wrist.
“Found something,” he said. “Astallan records.”
Celeste’s heart skipped. She hurried over, flipping through the papers with nervous hands. Birth records? Guardianship? Medical files? Anything…
Then Arcade stilled, scrolling again. His brow furrowed. “Hold on… there’s a government order here. Global internet shutdown—initiated right before this started.”
He scanned further, his tone growing grim. “No warnings. No health alerts. No mention of zombie-class infections. Just… silence. A scrubbed slate.”
He looked up, expression sharp, almost angry. “If this is accurate… then we weren’t just abandoned. We were erased.”
Celeste’s breath caught. Her hands trembled around the paper. “But… why isn’t there anything on me?” she whispered.
Arcade’s eyes softened for once. “I don’t know. You’re not in the system at all. Like you were never meant to exist.”
A cold chill slid down her spine.
Arcade hunched back over the console, muttering rapid-fire as C.H.I.P beeped cheerfully beside him. “Sewage schematics… there. Risky, but it could be a viable exit point.”
Celeste barely heard him. She stood by the table, staring at the documents Arcade had thrown at her—records that should have been about her. Her last name appeared, yes. Her photo, even. But the face staring back at her wasn’t the one she remembered.
The picture showed a girl no older than eleven, her features unmistakably Celeste’s—same soft jawline, same freckles—but her eyes were a sharp, unnatural yellow. The name beneath the photo had been altered, blurred out as though someone couldn’t decide what to call her. Her birthday was wrong. Entire passages were blacked out with thick bars of ink.
The page listed her as a university student, which made no sense for a child. Her national ID number didn’t match, stamped over instead with a bold Council Overrule mark that cut through the digits like a warning.
Most chilling of all was the activity log. Nine years marked inactive, silent as a grave. And then—just one year ago—the file came alive again, reactivated without explanation.
Her fingers trembled as she shoved the files aside, bile rising in her throat. Whoever this was supposed to be, it wasn’t her. And yet… it looked exactly like her.
She needed air.
Quietly slipping away from the others, Celeste stepped onto a narrow balcony overlooking the lower floor of the archive. The night air was still, sticky with the scent of sugar and something sour beneath it. She placed her hands on the cold railing and sighed.
That’s when she saw it.
A flicker of movement in the distance.
Just beyond the edge of the ruined mall, through the cracked sugar-glass windows—stood a figure. Cloaked in shadows, its feline form unmistakable. Sharp ears, tufted face, a long tail. A lynx. Watching.
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Celeste swore the figure tilted its head in recognition—then it was gone.
Her breath hitched.
She backed away slowly, the weight of missing records, altered memories, and now strange observers pressing in around her.
She wasn’t just missing from the archives.
She was being watched.
Celeste’s eyes widened.
That lynx… it wasn’t just familiar—it was the lynx. The one that had vanished from the convention just before all of this began. Before the candy, the monsters, the madness.
Without thinking, she broke into a sprint, boots echoing against marble-sticky floors as she rushed down the hallway where the figure had stood. The scent of caramel and dust clung to the stale air. But the hallway was empty—no sound, no shadow. The lynx had vanished again.
“Oh bother,” she whispered, scanning every corner, listening for even a footstep.
Her eyes fell to something on the floor.
A folder.
It hadn’t been there before. Carefully, she picked it up, brushing off a sticky smudge of jelly residue. Across the front, stamped in worn red ink:
TEMPEST
Her heartbeat quickened. That word sparked something—she wasn’t sure what. A memory? A warning?
She flipped the folder open.
Empty. Except for a single slip of paper. On it, written in crisp, mechanical type: Coordinates: 51.4816° N, 3.1791° W
Underneath, scribbled in faint graphite, a second word: “Remember.”
She stared, mind racing. The coordinates... they were familiar. Arcade might be able to trace them, but she had a gut feeling—they led somewhere important.
She glanced back down the hall. No sign of the lynx. No sign of anything.
Just questions piling on top of questions.
Celeste tucked the paper into her bag and rejoined the others, eyes darker now, jaw set.
Something was coming together. She didn’t know what Tempest meant yet—but it was tied to her, to this twisted version of Clawdiff, and to whoever—or whatever—that lynx was.
Celeste tucked the note into her coat pocket, fingers lingering on the paper as her mind spun with the weight of the word Tempest. But just as she turned, a cold prickle danced down her spine—the unmistakable feeling of eyes locked on her back.
Something wet splattered on her nose.
She blinked and looked up—
—and immediately screamed.
The centipede general loomed above her, coiled around the ceiling beams like a grotesque chandelier. His eyes glinted with cruel glee, slime dripping from his mandibles. Before Celeste could react, he pounced, launching down from above with terrifying speed.
She bolted, scrambling toward the stairwell she’d climbed earlier. Her foot caught, her balance slipped—then a clawed hand snatched her ankle.
In an instant, she was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like prey in a trap. Panic surged. She flailed, kicking, but the grip was like iron. The centipede drew close, his grotesque, rat-like face inches from hers.
His long whiskers brushed her cheek, twitching as he leaned close. The grin was too wide. Too knowing.
“Found you, little dove,” he hissed, his voice a low rasp that crawled into her bones. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Celeste shivered, her breath catching. “What do you want?”
His mandibles clicked, hot, sour breath coating her face like syrup gone rancid.
“A kindness,” he said softly. “A warning.”
Her eyes darted up, wide. “A warning…?”
“The sewers,” he purred, his tone swelling with cruel delight. “They’re mine. And down there… you’re not heroes. You’re not chosen. You’re meat. Meat in the dark.”
Celeste’s pulse hammered. “How do you know we were—?”
The centipede let out a sharp, chittering laugh. “Oh, little dove… my master is no fool. He knows where you’ll scurry before you even take the step. Sewers. Basements. Holes in the ground. Predictable. Expected. Pathetic.”
He leaned in until the hooked points of his mandibles scraped the tile. “I’ll be waiting in the tunnels. When you crawl into my den… I’ll hunt you. I’ll keep you. Perhaps I’ll wear your skin as ribbon for my brood.”
His many eyes glowed faintly red, all fixed on her trembling form. “Zombies don’t die,” he whispered, venom dripping from each syllable. “They just scream… forever.”
Then—he dropped her.
Celeste slammed into the floor, breath tearing from her lungs. She curled in, gasping, as the hulking body of the general recoiled into the shadows.
The last thing she heard was the echo of his laughter—wet, inhuman, dragging down the corridor like the sound of bones breaking underwater.
Celeste lay on the floor, chest heaving, her palms pressed flat against the cold stone. The giant centipede’s armored body scraped and rattled as it scurried away down the corridor, vanishing into shadow.
She pushed herself up on shaking elbows, head throbbing, only to glance sideways and freeze.
A door stood slightly ajar, and from behind it—Ray.
She was frozen, arms crossed tight over her chest, eyes wide—not from surprise but from fear, hidden poorly beneath her brittle scowl.
Celeste’s breaths came quick, hands still trembling. “How… how much did you hear?” she asked, voice soft, almost apologetic.
Ray didn’t answer at first. Her eyes flicked up toward the stairs, then back at Celeste, jaw clenched.
“…Enough,” she muttered, her voice lower than usual, stripped of her usual sarcasm. “Enough to know we’re not going through the sewers.”
Celeste lowered her blades a little. “He said… he’s waiting for us down there. That he wants to hunt us.” Her voice shook as she added, “I think he meant it.”
Ray shifted uncomfortably, scowl deepening. “Then we find another way. I’m not dying in some gummy hellhole under the streets.”
Celeste hesitated, watching her closely. Then, gently: “You froze.”
Ray stiffened, but didn’t deny it.
“I… I wanted to move, alright?” Ray snapped, though her voice cracked. “But I couldn’t. Not ‘cause I didn’t care. I just—” She looked away, her fists tight at her sides. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Ever.”
Celeste tilted her head slightly, her tone quiet, earnest. “None of us have.”
For a moment, silence stretched—thick and awkward, but not hostile.
Ray exhaled hard through her nose, forcing her shoulders to relax. “Fine. Whatever. We tell the others. Sewers are off the table. We’ll find something else before that thing finds us.”
She turned to leave, but Celeste called softly, “Ray… are you alright?”
Ray froze mid-step, ears twitching. She threw a glance over her shoulder. “Why are you asking me that? I should be asking you. Besides—” she shrugged dismissively, “—it’s not like I care.”
Celeste’s reply was quiet, but unwavering. “I do.”
Ray blinked, caught off guard. Her mask slipped for just a heartbeat. “…Even after I tried to drag you out of here?”
Celeste met her eyes, shy but steady. “Yes.”
Ray scoffed, brushing her hair back with forced nonchalance. “Tch. Idiot.”
But the bite was gone. And beneath the scoff… her eyes glimmered with something dangerously close to gratitude.
Celeste just gave her a small, warm smile. “I mean it.”
Ray didn’t answer, but she didn’t storm off either. She just walked—slower this time.
Celeste glanced back toward the stairwell, shivering at the memory of the centipede’s voice still echoing in her ears. She swallowed hard.
“How did that thing even get in here?” she asked quietly. “There aren’t any doors big enough.”
Ray folded her arms, her scowl deepening. “Maybe it doesn’t need doors. Maybe it can change its size.”
Celeste’s fur prickled. “…That’s a terrifying thought.”
Ray’s gaze dropped to her own hands, curling into fists. For a second, her hammer flickered into being, its faint violet glow pulsing. She stared at it, jaw set. “I could crush it.”
Celeste shook her head, her voice trembling but steady. “We don’t know what these weapons can do yet. But I know one thing—” she hugged her arms close to herself, ears twitching, “—I’m terrified of finding out.”
Ray didn’t answer. But her expression didn’t change either—hard, sharp, unwilling to show weakness.
Celeste gave a small, shaky sigh. “Maybe… maybe we do need help. Those things are too big for us.”
Ray’s ears flicked back. “We’re not fighting them. Not head-on. Better to find a way out of Clawdiff. Somewhere that isn’t the sewers.”
Celeste nodded slowly. “I agree.”
The two of them stood in the dim hallway, the silence heavy between them. For the first time, it wasn’t hostile—it was wary. A fragile truce born out of shared fear.
Back in the archive’s main room, the others hadn’t noticed the commotion. C.H.I.P. was still humming away beside Arcade, who was furiously scanning through data. Skye had curled up near Lumina, both of them thumbing through a half-crushed children’s encyclopedia. Mezzo was… somehow balancing on top of a filing cabinet, eating sour laces he definitely hadn’t found under sanitary conditions.
Ray and Celeste reentered the room quietly. Celeste’s face was pale, her eyes tired, but she didn’t speak right away. She walked to the table and dropped the paper with the coordinates onto the center.
Arcade looked up. “What’s this?”
Celeste sat heavily beside him, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “A lead. Might be nothing, might be… something. Tempest. That’s all the file said.”
Ray leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her eyes still sharp from what they’d just escaped. “Doesn’t matter. Sewer’s a death trap. That centipede general? He owns it. Said he’d turn us into chew toys and hunt us forever.”
Celeste’s ears flattened slightly. “I went upstairs to look at the files you gave me… and I saw that lynx from ClawdiffCon. I thought he was yours anyway.” Her voice faltered. “He left this folder and then—then that… I don’t even know what to call it. The centipede monster. It attacked me.”
Arcade’s glasses slid slightly down his nose as he stared at her. “It attacked you? I didn’t hear a thing.”
Ray pushed off the wall. “I followed her. You’d be surprised how quiet that thing is.” Her tone was flat, but her tail flicked with unease. “Which worries me more—that something that size can sneak right up on us.”
Celeste shivered at the memory. “Like it was waiting.”
The room fell quiet, the others finally glancing up from their distractions—sensing the heaviness in Celeste’s voice.
Arcade frowned, visor catching the glow of the terminals. “So he knew. Damn it… that means we’ve been under surveillance this whole time.”
Celeste’s hands fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “Then… then we need a new plan,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “The sewers are too dangerous. What if we… what if we went up instead?”
Mezzo cocked his head, mid-chew on sour laces. “Up? You mean, like—strap wings on and flap our way out? ’Cause I’m game, but I doubt physics is.”
Arcade sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not the sky, genius—the dome. The barrier itself. Breaking through might be more realistic than digging under it.”
Skye shifted, quiet but blunt. “But it’s… huge. Feels wrong. Not built by us. Could be alien. Could be magic. Could be both.”
Celeste nodded, slipping her glasses off and polishing them nervously on her sleeve. “I know it sounds silly. But we’ve all seen what the dreamscales can do. And this… this Tempest lead—it might be connected. To the city. To the dome.”
Arcade tapped the coordinates on the folder, his brow furrowed. “Lab, node, vault—whatever it is, it’s worth investigating.”
The group fell into a heavy silence.
Celeste glanced down at her trembling hands, then looked up again. “I think we should… um… practice. With our weapons, I mean. Properly. Because if we’re honest—” she bit her lip— “we’re really not very good. And maybe we’ve only been lucky so far.”
Ray leaned against a crate, her voice dry but sharp. “Finally, some honesty. Hate to break it to you, princess, but luck runs out fast. If you weren’t so shy about swinging those blades, you’d be pulling more weight.”
Celeste’s ears drooped. She looked at the floor. “I’m trying,” she whispered. “I just… I don’t like hurting people. Or killing. It feels… wrong.”
Ray’s tone softened only by degrees—still hard, but not cruel. “The dead don’t care what you like. They’ll rip you apart whether you’re crying or not.”
Mezzo raised his paws. “She’s not wrong, lass. We need drills, coordination. ’Cause right now? We fight like a drunk pub band.”
Arcade’s voice was cool, cutting. “And don’t forget—our power link traces back to you. If you collapse, Celeste, we all collapse. Try not to forget that.”
Celeste flinched, her hands curling into fists. “Then I’ll… I’ll try harder,” she said, voice trembling but clear. “I don’t want to be the reason any of you get hurt.”
The silence wasn’t hostile—it was sobering.
Ray finally exhaled, rolling her shoulders and letting her hammer vanish. “Good. Then tomorrow, we stop surviving by accident. We start surviving on purpose.”
By now, exhaustion was setting in—Skye had slumped sideways against Lumina, who was barely propping her eyes open. Bonbon was curled up around her plushie, drooling sugar-stained dreams.
“Then we head back to base,” Arcade said firmly. “Rest. Regroup. Maybe even find out what else those scales can do besides… look shiny.”
Mezzo hopped down from the filing cabinet with a grin. “Any chance they make pizza?”
Ray groaned, dragging a paw down her face. “Gods above… if that’s what you dream of, Swift, then maybe.”
She paused. Her ears twitched. “Wait—hold up. You guys have a base?”
Mezzo puffed up proudly. “Yep. It’s in a giant egg tree. Please don’t judge. Unless it’s been taken over by squatters with bad hairstyles. I swear, apocalypse hits and suddenly—bam!—everyone’s a barber with a grudge.”
Ray stared at him. “…God give me strength. Your hideout is a treehouse? What are you, five?”
Arcade adjusted his visor, calm but smug. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but it’s more sophisticated than it sounds. Adaptive structure, shifting architecture—you’d be impressed.”
Skye piped up quietly, “We have a magic fridge.”
Celeste perked up, smiling softly. “It even made a bedroom for me… all sugar glass. So pretty. Like… like sleeping inside a star.”
Ray muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die surrounded by children.”
Celeste smiled faintly at the banter, though her eyes lingered on the glowing terminals.
Tempest… who are you? And why am I not in the records at all?
Outside, the candy-slick streets glistened in the moonlight. Somewhere out there, seven generals waited in their sugar-soaked domains.
And above them all, the dome pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat. Waiting.
Celeste drifted in a restless sleep, curled within a marshmallow bed that gave beneath her like squishy fabric. It didn’t cling or stick—just shifted and settled, cradling her weight in gentle folds. Lumina and little Bonbon lay tucked against her, their soft breaths rising and falling in unison, warmth pressing close.
In the hazy fog of her dreams, she stood in a sea of swirling mist, soft stars twinkling above a glassy surface that reflected nothing.
From within the haze, a figure emerged—elegant, radiant, almost divine. A tall woman an alicorn, with wings like flowing silk and a shimmering horn that glowed faintly with moonlight. Her long, white hair shimmered with a soft iridescent, trailing behind her like clouds at dusk. Her eyes—gentle but urgent—were fixed on Celeste.
“You,” the woman called, her voice echoing like a bell across time and space. “You must—”
Celeste stepped forward, trying to hear her better, but suddenly dark vines of inky shadow coiled up from the mist and wrapped around the alicorn’s legs, dragging her back.
“Wait!” Celeste cried, reaching out, but her feet were frozen in place. The fog thickened. The stars blinked out.
“Use the core,” the alicorn said one last time, before being swallowed by the darkness.
Celeste jolted awake with a sharp gasp, heart pounding in her chest. Her glasses were still clenched in one hand, and morning light filtered softly through the candy-glass ceiling of her chosen room. The glittering rainbow walls offered no comfort—too bright, too alien.
Sweat clung to her neck as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She had barely slept. And yet… that woman in her dream felt familiar. Important. Like she knew Celeste. Like Celeste was supposed to remember something.
But she couldn’t.
Shaking the image from her mind, Celeste stood and adjusted her glasses, blinking as the pastel brilliance of the room came into focus. Four sugar-glass columns stood in the corners, and the shimmering tiles of the rainbow window scattered light across the floor like confetti.
Suddenly panic set in—Bonbon and Lumina were nowhere to be seen.
Celeste scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest as she pushed open the glittering sugar-glass door. Her boots echoed faintly on the polished, hard candy floor as she darted into the hallway, her hair still slightly messy from the unrestful night.
Celeste slowed her pace and turned the corner. The light from the hallway filtered through in soft gradients—pale pinks and blues glowing from candy crystal sconces—and at the far end, she heard laughter. Not panicked, not distressed—just light, playful noise.
She stopped to find Lumina and Bonbon giggling as they chased bouncing jelly creatures around the lollipop table. The others were nearby—Arcade sipping coffee, CHIP humming as it downloaded files, Skye was perched quietly by the window, petting what looked like a stray marshmallow critter, Mezzo attempting circus tricks with gumballs.
A wave of relief crashed over Celeste as she smiled, letting out a shaky breath. They were safe. For now.
Arcade sat on one of the wide licorice benches with a mug of something steaming—somehow coffee still existed. CHIP hovered nearby, projecting a crude 3D map of the city and marking points of interest in glowing candy-colored dots.
Celeste exhaled, relief softening her features as she stepped inside. “Oh stars above—you two nearly gave me a heart attack,” she said gently, hugging Lumina close. “Please don’t run off like that again, alright?”
Lumina blinked up at her with wide eyes. “We just wanted to see if the fridge made more strawberries!” She lifted a paw proudly. “It did!”
Bonbon beamed, babbling through a yawn. “A mwydod… dawnsio!”
Mezzo gave a sloppy salute from the counter, three gumballs precariously balanced on his nose. “They woke the whole bloody base chasing fruit. Chaos at sunrise. Classic.”
Ray slouched on the bench, eyes glued to her cracked phone. “You’re all ridiculous. I didn’t even get to finish one nightmare before the circus started.”
Celeste adjusted her glasses and turned to Arcade with a hopeful tilt of her head. “Any progress…?”
Arcade smirked, tapping his wrist-mounted omni-tool like it was a magic trick. “Naturally. That coordinate we found? Northern quarter. Records annex. Red-zone now, probably crawling with zombies—or worse. Could be a lead, could be a trap. But hey, nothing screams adventure like ‘classified building surrounded by monsters.’”
Celeste frowned faintly. “But… the signals are all down. How do you even still have internet?”
Arcade’s grin sharpened. “Glad you asked.” He snapped open a coms crystal, its pale glow reflecting smugly in his glasses. “Mana towers are still active. Think of it like a replay feed. Not live—but enough. And—” he flicked his claws, bringing up a hovering projection, “—I found a drone last night, hacked it into a mana-emitter. Boom. Localized internet. You’re welcome.”
Suddenly, a soft purple glow flared across Ray’s chest. It pulsed once, bright and strange.
At the same time, Celeste’s blue core glowed faintly through her clothes, as if answering it.
And high on a shelf, nestled in the shadow of Arcade’s bot, the egg tree gem began to gleam—shifting between amethyst and sky blue.
Ray jolted upright. “What the hell was that?!”
Arcade blinked. “Huh. The Egg Tree likes you.”
Ray turned to him, incredulous. “A tree likes me?”
Arcade shrugged. “Don’t think about it too hard. I did. Now my brain’s broken.”
Ray groaned, rubbing her temple. “I hate all of this madness.”
Mezzo gave her a sympathetic nod—still balancing the gumballs. “Welcome to the club, Sunshine.”
Ray glared. “Don’t even think about that being a nickname.”
Celeste leaned closer to Mezzo and whispered with a grin, “Sunshine.”
Mezzo blinked at her. “Sunshine”
Celeste giggled. “She’s our ray of sunshine.”
Ray deadpanned. “Say that again and I’ll set your socks on fire.”
But underneath Ray’s scowl, a faint pink touched her cheeks—and she didn’t tell them to stop.
“Anyway,” Celeste said gently, brushing dust off her jacket, “what about the barrier?”
Arcade gestured to the projection, smug as ever. “Still active. Energy’s odd, but I think those dreamscales react to it. If we channel them properly—together—we might poke a hole through. But we’ll need to test it. And preferably not half-dead from exhaustion.”
Ray squinted. “Dreamscales? Dreamshards? What even are those?”
Celeste’s lips curled into a shy little smile. “Skye named them. They’re scales from the big white dragon. They sort of… give you what you need. But only when you’re near our base.”
Ray huffed, crossing her arms. “Great. Let’s stop wasting time and ask it for a rocket launcher. Blow this candy dome wide open.”
Arcade rolled his eyes. “Already tried. Wouldn’t let me manifest one.”
Mezzo leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Maybe it’s waitin’ for me teeth. Lemme have another nibble, see if it works this time.”
Celeste groaned softly. “Please don’t.”
Ray muttered, “Fine. Then maybe a cooker. At least that’s useful.”
With a shimmer, a candy-colored cooker blinked into existence beside Mezzo’s fridge.
Ray threw up her hands. “Really? I get a bloody cooker but not a rocket launcher? Figures.”
Despite the tension, laughter rippled through the group. For a moment, the weight pressing down on them lifted.
They were all holding it together—barely. But hope flickered now.
Celeste pressed her hands together. “All right then. After breakfast… we check the coordinates. Then… we try the barrier.”
Ray groaned, throwing her head back. “Brilliant. I’ll write my will in gummy bears.”
Mezzo hurled a gumball at her. “Make sure to leave me your boots in it!”
Bonbon began humming a soft morning tune, her little voice wobbling but sweet. Lumina joined in, shy at first, then steadier—her soft hum carrying like a thread of light.
And for a heartbeat, in that broken candy city, it almost felt like a normal morning.
Bonbon toddled up to Celeste, tugging gently on her skirt. Her big eyes looked up, and in a quiet, tired voice she asked softly in Welsh:
“Ga i fynd adre?”
Celeste blinked. “Wait—what? I—uh… what does that mean?”
Bonbon repeated it with more urgency, her lip wobbling. Celeste crouched down, wrinkling her nose.
“Oh no…” She sniffed again, face falling. “Oh stars above—Bonbon, really?”
The unmistakable scent confirmed it. Celeste gingerly lifted Bonbon at arm’s length like she was holding a cursed relic. “Did nobody think to change her? Not even once?”
Mezzo, mid-act balancing three gumballs on his nose, waved a paw. “Oi, don’t look at me. I don’t do nappies. Not my department. I’m allergic to toddler goo.”
Arcade didn’t even glance up from his omni-tool. “I don’t carry baby supplies. I’m busy keeping us alive with tech wizardry. You know—useful things.”
Celeste shot them both a flat glare, Bonbon dangling like an unfortunate plush. “Mmhm. And somehow I’m the one holding the sludge bomb. Brilliant strategy, boys.”
From across the room, Skye spoke up quietly, almost apologetic but blunt: “I… I’ve got a clean cloth.”
Celeste sighed, soft but grateful. “Better than nothing, cariad.”
She glanced around—and froze. “Wait. Where’s Ray?”
Everyone looked. Empty space.
“Seriously?” Celeste muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Again?”
Mezzo shrugged, grinning like it was obvious. “Probably stormed off. She gets bored if she’s not punching something.”
Arcade smirked without lifting his head. “Or she got tired of babysitting you lot. She does that.”
Celeste groaned as she trudged toward the bathroom, muttering under her breath, “Perfect. A disappearing emo fox, a smug hedgehog hoarder, a sugar-addled dog in shorts, a glitter grenade with legs—and me, the mum. Just peachy.”
Bonbon cuddled into her shoulder despite the smell, humming a little lullaby.
Celeste exhaled. “I need a tea. And maybe an army.”
She pressed a dreamshard against the wall. It pulsed, then unfolded into a neat cupboard—quaint, wooden, with pastel handles. Inside: antiseptic, bandages, and blessedly, sanitary supplies.
“Finally,” she muttered. “Something useful. Last thing I need is trying to fight candy nightmares armed with nothing but a sugar stick and a prayer.”
Bonbon giggled from the counter as Celeste worked. Her rainbow-streaked fur caught the light, and Celeste’s heart twisted. She brushed the panda’s fringe aside—catching a faint ridge beneath.
Her breath hitched. She knew that shape.
Her own hand rose to her forehead, brushing the hidden scar where her horn once was. The memory stung like an old wound reopened.
Bonbon babbled cheerfully, patting Celeste’s arm. “Dw i isio mynd adre…”
Celeste swallowed hard, then smiled faintly. “You keep saying that… I really need to learn Welsh, don’t I?”
Bonbon pointed at a rainbow shimmer in the wall, smiling like it was home. Celeste tried to return it, but the dream of the alicorn woman still weighed heavy on her chest. White iridescent hair. Calling to her. Being pulled away.
She pulled the slip of paper from her pocket. Tempest. That was all it said. No answers.
Her thumb brushed the numbers. Her voice cracked in a whisper. “Who are you?”
Bonbon tugged her shoulder again, pointing at a glittering butterfly outside the window.
Celeste smiled softly, scooping her up. “Alright then, little rainbow panda. Let’s see what madness waits for us today.”
Celeste stepped back into what they’d loosely dubbed the kitchen, and her jaw slackened for a moment. A massive pile of ripe strawberries sat glistening on the new table—one that definitely hadn’t been there last night. It was a swirling clear Rainbow lollipop, polished like glass, and surrounded by gumdrop chairs that shimmered in pastel hues. The whole thing looked like a fancy tea set designed by a sugar-fueled architect with too much time on their hands.
She blinked, slowly approaching it. Parts of the egg base had changed overnight. There were now shallow grooves along the curved walls, like shelves were slowly pushing through the sugar-glass surface. The architecture was adapting.
The orb in the base was doing this.
She rested her fingers on the tabletop. Warm—not just from the sun filtering through the candy-floss leaves outside, but alive, like the base itself was breathing softly, evolving in response to their needs.
Behind her, familiar voices rose in argument.
“I’m telling ya, if we’re gonna survive in here for more than a week, we need a pizza oven!” Mezzo barked from the lounge, standing on a gumdrop chair like it was his personal stage. He waved his paws like a conductor hyped on sugar.
Arcade didn’t even look up from the adjustments on his wrist-pad. “What we need is a functioning terminal. City maps, grid access, surveillance. You know, tools that actually keep us alive. Not dough and cheese.”
“You say terminal, I say calzone!” Mezzo shot back, grinning.
Arcade finally glanced up, quills crackling faintly with static. “Dreamshards aren’t for junk food, Spots.”
“Speak for yourself, spikes! What if my dream is junk food?”
Arcade smirked faintly. “Then dream smaller.”
Ray, freshly returned from her walk, sat sprawled against a sugar column with her boots kicked up on a gumdrop footstool. A lollipop stem poked lazily from her lips. She rolled it once with her tongue, eyes narrowing.
“They’d make better trade chips,” she muttered coolly. “Burn them on your fantasy pizza oven, mutt-boy, and we’ll have nothing when shit really goes bad.”
Mezzo stuck his tongue out. “Dog-griffon hybrid, thanks kindly.”
Ray exhaled smoke through her nose. “Still smells like wet dog.”
Mezzo grinned wide, leaning toward her like he’d just been handed a challenge. “So… what do you smell like, Sunshine? ‘Cause last night, you were breathing actual fire. That’s not exactly standard Tuesday stuff.”
Ray’s jaw tightened. Her fingers twitched on her hammer’s strap. Then, with a sudden flare of temper, she opened her mouth and whoomph—a burst of fire seared the air just in front of Mezzo’s face.
He yelped, toppled backward off the chair, and scrambled upright with singed whiskers.
“Feckin’ hell!” he shouted, eyes wide. “You torched me! Okay, okay—I get it! Half phoenix, yeah? You happy now?”
Ray’s glare sharpened, but there was a flicker of raw honesty under it. “Fine. Half phoenix. Congratulations. Now shut it before I roast the rest of you.”
Mezzo’s panic flipped instantly to awe. His tail wagged furiously. “Are you serious?! That’s bloody awesome! Think about it—rebirth powers! Flame wings! Do you just—poof—come back from the dead? Can you cook dinner by glaring at it? Wait—do you lay eggs?!”
Ray slapped a paw to her temple. “For the love of—”
Celeste covered her mouth with both hands, a shy, muffled giggle slipping through. Her shoulders shook with it. “S-sorry, I—just—you two—”
Even Arcade let out a dry, reluctant chuckle behind his visor. “Honestly, I’m impressed it took him this long to ask the egg question.”
Ray groaned, rolling her eyes hard enough to hurt. “Great. So now I’m the freak with feathered rage issues.”
Mezzo blinked, then broke into a grin that was all sincerity. “Freak? Ray, you’re a bloody phoenix. You’re metal as hell.”
Celeste’s ears perked, warmth softening her smile. “See? I told you… we’re better weird together.”
Ray looked away quickly, chewing on her lollipop stick—but the faintest pink crept across her cheeks.
Celeste sighed, but a shy smile tugged at her lips. For all their chaos, this—somehow—felt like a team. Dysfunctional, loud, impossible at times. But alive. Adapting. Just like the base.
She glanced toward a groove in the sugar-glass wall, wondering what it might turn into. A weapons rack? A bookshelf? A nursery? The thought lingered longer than she liked.
She picked up a strawberry, biting into it—perfect, sweet, impossibly real. “Um… where are Lumina and Skye?” she asked softly, glancing over her shoulder.
“Still in the garden,” Arcade said absently, already inputting commands into his omni-tool. His quills sparked faintly with static. “Something about teaching the candy imps to fetch. Which, by the way, is a waste of time. Unless it can fetch blueprints.”
Mezzo perked up, tail wagging. “If it can fetch, we call it Bonfetch. Boom. Trademarked.”
Ray snorted from her corner, lollipop stem between her teeth. “If it learns to bite, we sic it on you first.”
Celeste shut her eyes briefly. “…Peace is overrated anyway.”
She placed Bonbon on a gumdrop chair, the little panda hybrid happily kicking her feet and nibbling a strawberry. Celeste brushed her fringe aside and adjusted her glasses. “Okay. So… what do we do next?”
“Pizza,” Mezzo said instantly, paw in the air like he was answering a quiz show.
Celeste tilted her head, unimpressed but smiling faintly. “Besides pizza.”
Mezzo slumped with a dramatic groan. “Ah, princess, you say that now, but wait ‘til we’re cold, hungry, starvin’—no wood-fired crust in sight—and then you’ll be beggin’ me for a slice.”
Arcade didn’t even glance up. “We didn’t have wood-fired crust before the world ended, Spots.”
“Culinary tragedy,” Mezzo muttered under his breath, arms crossed.
Celeste tried again, her voice quiet but insistent. “Loot. We should… um… probably think about where to keep it safe. That last fight dropped valuable things, and leaving them scattered feels… dangerous.”
“Ohhh, now we want a safe,” Mezzo cried, snapping his fingers. “Fantastic! Blow all the dreamshards on home décor—Celeste gets a safe, Ray gets her little rave corner, Arcade builds a nerd cave, and all I want—just one—bloody pizza oven!”
Ray rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you say you can’t even cook?”
“That’s not the point!” Mezzo barked.
Arcade finally pushed his visor up, looking at them like a patient teacher addressing toddlers. “Comfort food fantasies aside, our situation is clear. There’s no police, no council, no survivors we can see. We’re all that’s left in here. Which means—our priority is the barrier.”
Ray lifted her head, finally listening. “You think my hammer might punch through it?”
Arcade’s smirk flickered. “You lit up like a beacon standing next to Celeste. Weapons tied to her aura might influence the city itself. It’s worth testing.”
Celeste folded her arms, nervous but steady. “So… a trip to the city edge?”
Arcade nodded, his voice sharp with certainty. “Exactly. Find the barrier, test its integrity, look for weak points. The sooner we know if escape is possible, the better.”
“Better than sittin’ around fightin’ over ovens and safes,” Skye added as he wandered in, Lumina trailing at his side, both holding half-melted marshmallow birds on sticks. His tone was flat, matter-of-fact—but it landed.
Bonbon clapped her sticky hands, chirping something bright in Welsh that made no sense to anyone but still felt hopeful.
Celeste looked around at her strange team, heart heavy but determined. “Alright. We… we’ll gear up, grab some shards, and test the barrier. If we’re lucky, maybe it breaks. If not—” she shot Mezzo a look “—maybe then you get your oven.”
Mezzo’s grin lit up again. “Swear it?”
Celeste shook her head, smiling faintly. “No.” She was already heading toward the corridor.
Ray stretched, cracking her knuckles, lollipop still rolling lazily. “Fine. Let’s go smash a barrier. Or die. Whatever comes first.”
Just then, Skye stopped, eyes narrowing slightly as he fixed on Celeste. His words came out quiet, blunt, but almost… searching.
“Do you actually want to help me and Arcade?”
Celeste faltered mid-step, surprised. “That’s… um… a strange question.” She smiled shyly, earnest. “But yes. Of course I do.”
Skye studied her for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he was listening for something behind her words. Then he nodded once.
“…Good. That’s what I needed to know.”
And without another word, he walked down the hall, leaving Celeste blinking after him, a puzzled frown tugging at her lips.
“…What was that about?”
Arcade adjusted his omni-tool, not looking up. “That’s Skye. He drifts off sometimes. But even for him? That was odd.”
Celeste watched after him, unsettled. Something lingered in the air—like a whisper she couldn’t quite catch.
The scream ripped through the base like a blade.
Everyone scrambled, weapons half-summoned, as they burst out of the lounge.
Lumina stood in the middle of the corridor, her pink-gem sword clenched tight in trembling hands. At her feet lay a twitching mess of candy shards—a sugar rusher, its cuboid body cracked open, crystalline fangs still glinting before the whole thing shivered, glitched, and fell apart.
Lumina’s chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked gasps. Her wide eyes locked onto Celeste’s.
“I—I didn’t want to…” she stammered. Her grip slipped, the sword dissolving into light as her arms fell limp. “He attacked me. I didn’t want to kill him…”
Celeste rushed forward, wrapping her arms around her little sister. She pulled her close, rocking her gently despite the fear knotting her own stomach. “Shh… you’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Mezzo leaned over the body, whistling low. “Bloody hell, that was clean work. Not bad at all, kiddo.”
Lumina sniffled, shaking her head hard against Celeste’s coat. “It’s too scary. I don’t like this. I… I want to go home. Please, Celeste. Can we go home now?”
Celeste kissed the top of her head, whispering soft but steady. “I know, cariad. We’re going to the barrier today. We’ll see if we can escape. Together. Okay?”
Lumina sniffled again but nodded, a tiny smile breaking through. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll get Miss Jellybeans.”
As she darted off, the sugar rusher’s remains twitched one last time—and then fizzled into pixels, scattering like broken code.
Arcade crouched down, studying the glitch with wide eyes. His quills bristled, a spark of static racing down his back. “This is… wrong. Too weird. It’s not even biology anymore—it’s a program. Like someone’s experiment. And I’ve got no intention of being anyone’s lab rat.”
Mezzo gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. “What?! You—mister science brain—don’t like weird science stuff? I thought you lived for this!”
Arcade stood, lips curling in irritation. “I like logic. Predictability. Laws that make sense. This?” He gestured at the dissolving candy corpse. “This is just creepy.”
Before the argument could stretch, Lumina returned, clutching Miss Jellybeans tight against her chest—the little bunny doll in its frilly pink Lolita dress now her anchor against the madness.
Celeste bent down and scooped up Bonbon, who blinked blearily from where she’d been woken by the noise. The toddler cuddled into her shoulder, mumbling something soft in Welsh, her thumb creeping into her mouth.
Ray slung her hammer across her back, already heading toward the exit. Her voice was flat, but her stride had fire in it. “Enough stalling. If there’s a way out, we find it. I’m done rotting in this candy-coated hellhole.”
Celeste adjusted Bonbon on her hip, gathered the others with a nod, and followed.
Together, they stepped out into the warped park beyond—the barrier waiting somewhere ahead, and the promise of escape glinting like hope through sugar-glass.
Leaving the safety of the park, the pastel sanctuary faded behind them, replaced once more by the eerie stillness of the abandoned city. The barrier wasn’t close—miles, maybe more—and on foot, with a toddler in tow, it was going to take forever.
They passed the remnants of a picnic: plastic plates, melted sweets, and half-deflated balloons. In the middle of it all sat a dusty but intact baby carrier wrap.
Celeste lifted Bonbon, who clung like a koala, and bundled her gently against her chest. “Oh—there we go, love. Snug as starlight.” She shifted the weight, sighing softly. “Someone must’ve left in a hurry…”
“Or got eaten,” Mezzo muttered.
“Charming,” Ray deadpanned, rolling her eyes.
Then came the growl.
Low. Wet. Gurgling.
Bonbon whimpered, burying her face into Celeste’s chest.
Shadows writhed in the alley ahead. The smell hit next—sour sugar, rotting fruit, and something chemical beneath it. Candy zombies.
“Of course,” Ray groaned, summoning heartbreaker. “It’s never just a stroll.”
Arcade clicked his teeth, already digging through his pack for his omni tool. “Well then. Field test time.”
He summoned out a squat, dome-headed toy robot the size of a football, neon ears flickering.
“Chip, activate!”
The robot blinked to life. “Hello, Master. Would you like a fun fact about peaches?”
Chip beeped cheerfully. “Does ‘engage hostile mode’ mean I should insult them? Because I can. Your hair lacks symmetry.”
Ray barked out a laugh, surprising even herself. “Okay. I kinda like him.”
“I don’t need critique, I need zaps!” Arcade snapped, twisting dials furiously.
Celeste’s katanas shimmered into her hands. “Um—Arcade, Static, could you please get your… er… son under control?”
“He’s not my—!” Arcade snapped. “Chip! Fire at will!”
Chip beeped, swiveling toward a gumdrop zombie. “Hello, Will. Firing.”
A burst of crackling electricity blasted from its back, staggering the creature. Arcade grinned, triumphant. “Yes! Exactly! Do that again, but, ah—on everyone else! Not us!”
“Define ‘us,’” Chip said. “Does the flaming one and the glitter one count?”
Ray sliced through a marshmallow mutant, smirking. “Congrats, genius. You built a toddler.”
“I will uninstall your sarcasm driver later!” Arcade barked.
Zombies swarmed closer—some twitching from Chip’s erratic zaps, others cut down by Celeste’s quick slashes, Ray’s brutal strikes, or Mezzo’s wild football tosses.
Mezzo whooped, hurling another. “GOOOOAL!”
Ray hammered down a molasses-covered runner and snorted. “Alright, I’m officially requesting more robots.”
Chip turned, chirping smugly. “Request denied. You have been flagged as ‘grumpy.’”
Ray actually laughed—loud and genuine. “Alright, fine. I like him.”
Celeste parried a jawbreaker ghoul, her tail bristling. “Um… we might be a little bit doomed. But, ah—at least we’re… entertaining?”
Chip beeped proudly. “I exist to amuse. And vaporize.”
They continued through the park. Arcade was deep in conversation with Ray, who walked beside him, occasionally spinning her hammer idly. They debated possible routes, side streets, and shortcut theories that may or may not exist. Ray half-listened, distracted by a bird that didn’t flap its wings but floated like a paper lantern overhead.
A loud HOOOONK shattered the quiet.
Everyone turned sharply.
Mezzo sat in the driver’s seat of a red sports car with way too many decals. The door was open, his foot kicked up on the dash, and he wore a pair of aviator sunglasses he’d just found in the glove compartment.
“Vroom vroom, losers! Who’s ready to upgrade this walking sim?!”
Lumina and Skye were already clambering into the backseat, unbothered by logic or safety.
Arcade pinched the bridge of his snout. “I despise that this is—technically—a good idea.”
Ray slid smoothly into the passenger seat, spinning her hammer before resting it on her shoulder. “You’re just salty you didn’t call shotgun.”
Celeste helped Bonbon settle, then climbed in after the children, ears flicking with nervous energy. “Oh—um—I didn’t know you could drive, Mezzo.”
Mezzo shot her a toothy grin. “Oh, I can’t.”
Celeste’s smile froze. “S-sorry, what?”
Before she could press, Mezzo slammed the pedal, and the car lurched forward in a glitter-fueled roar. The engine squealed and then—impossibly—the vehicle hovered inches above the broken street.
“SEATBELTS!” Celeste shrieked, fumbling desperately to strap in the children with one paw while holding Bonbon tight with the other.
“THIS IS NOT HOW PHYSICS WORKS!” Arcade wailed, quills puffed like a static storm. “We’ve got a sixty-two point three percent chance of instant death—and rising!”
Ray whooped, leaning back casually. “Now this I can get behind.” She popped a lollipop into her mouth. “Could use more explosions, though.”
“ZOOM!” Lumina cried, throwing her paws in the air as the car launched over a cracked curb. “Pew pew! We’re in space!”
Skye added flatly, “Statistically, none of this should be functioning. It’s… concerning. But also fun.”
“THAT’S THE SPIRIT, LITTLE MAN!” Mezzo whooped, swerving around a toppled lamppost.
The car rocketed forward, weaving past candy-coated obstacles and drifting through shattered glass storefronts like it was on a sugar-fueled joyride through a fever dream. And so, whether they were ready or not, the journey to the barrier had officially begun.
Celeste clutched Bonbon, tail twitching as the panda squealed with delight. “Oh stars—we’re going to die! Mezzo, please slow down!”
“Slow down?!” Mezzo laughed, slamming the wheel into another wild drift. “This is me taking it easy!”
The car rocketed down the broken streets of Cardiff, a blur of red paint, glittering dream-energy, and wild, unfiltered chaos. Celeste clung to the door handle with one hand and cradled Bonbon with the other, her eyes wide with panic. Every few seconds, the vehicle swerved violently to avoid an abandoned car or lurching zombie, the candy-colored scenery whipping by in a kaleidoscope of speed.
“MEZZO!” Celeste shouted over the roar of the engine, her voice laced with pure, visceral terror. “THIS ISN’T A VIDEO GAME!”
“NOPE!” Mezzo grinned madly, twisting the wheel with one paw while still managing to fist-pump the air. “BUT IT’S THE BEST DLC I’VE EVER HAD!”
Despite his reckless style, Mezzo handled the car with surprising instinct. He drifted around shattered bus stops, clipped wing mirrors of parked vans, and even launched the car over a makeshift ramp created by a toppled billboard—all while laughing like he was the king of the world.
Hybrids like him didn’t get chances like this. His whole life, sports cars were something he saw through reinforced glass, not something his paws ever touched. But now? Now he was tearing down the dream-infused streets in one, and nothing had ever felt more real.
Ray smirked, eyes glinting. “I’m not impressed ’til we do a barrel roll.”
In the backseat, Celeste gritted her teeth and squeezed Bonbon close. The panda was having the time of her life, giggling at every bounce like it was a theme park ride. Lumina and Skye whooped as they bounced against their seatbelts.
“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” Arcade yelled, trying to calculate a safe trajectory in his head and failing miserably. His quills stood on end, fur puffed out in every direction. “We’ve got a 62.3% chance of dying on impact—adjusting for Mezzo’s technique, make that 74.8%!”
Ray, surprisingly composed, had one leg propped on the dashboard and was calmly sucking her lollipop. “Eh,” she muttered, “I’ve seen worse.”
Up ahead, the road twisted sharply—half-collapsed and strewn with glittering debris from a shattered dreamstructure. Mezzo narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Hold onto your socks, folks.”
Celeste’s fur stood on end. “Y-you don’t even have a license!”
“EXACTLY!” Mezzo yelled, yanking the wheel and sending them hurtling around the bend with all the grace of a crashing comet.
And yet—somehow—they didn’t crash. Not yet.
They had no idea how much further it was to the barrier, but one thing was certain: getting there would be anything but boring.
Eventually, the buildings thinned out, and the skyline of twisted dream-ruins gave way to fields and jagged terrain. The edges of Clawdiff came into view. They were nearly there.
As they skidded to a stop in a cloud of glitter-dust and gravel, the group scrambled out of the vehicle, catching their breath.
It was then they saw them—two figures ahead, barely holding their ground. An old billy goat, dressed in a flat cap and worn army attire, wielded a rusted pitchfork against a slow but persistent horde of zombies. He looked around fifty, gray-furred, with thick glasses that slipped down his nose every time he shouted.
Next to him, a silver-furred wolf, far younger—maybe late twenties—stood barefoot in shorts and a T-shirt, cobbled armor strapped to his arms and shoulders. He moved quickly and fiercely, trying to protect the older goat, swiping at the zombies with a makeshift metal pipe.
“Oi! Get back, you rotten walkers! This land’s not yours to take!”
Beside him, the wolf moved like a blur. Every swing of his pipe was precise, his stance protective. His voice was clear, controlled, and commanding:
“Hughes—your flank!”
The goat whipped around, shoving his pitchfork through a jawbreaker ghoul. “I’ve got it, lad! Don’t fuss!”
Celeste held Bonbon closer, her ears dipping. “Um—oh stars—looks like we’re not the only ones out here, then.”
Mezzo grinned, sunglasses sliding down his muzzle. “Field trip just got spicy!”
He gunned the engine again. Tires screeched, sugar shards flew, and the car blasted forward like a rocket.
WHAM. CRACK. SPLAT.
Two of the advancing zombies burst into clouds of sticky candy and syrupy gore as the front of the car smashed through them. Glitter and rainbow goo rained down in chunks as the vehicle spun into a wild drift. Mezzo yanked the wheel with unnecessary flair and brought the car to a screeching halt, perfectly parallel to a lollipop-shaped signpost.
He threw his arms up. “Did ye see that?! PERFECT parking!”
There was a pause as everyone stared at the crumpled, dented hood now smoking faintly with melted jawbreaker bits.
“MY BABY!” Mezzo cried out, dramatically clutching his chest and falling against the steering wheel in mock agony. “SHE HAD SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!”
Arcade leaned out of the passenger door, quills on end, and vomited noisily into a pile of melted sherbet. He spat, wiped his mouth, and muttered weakly, “Statistically speaking… we should all be dead. I hate being wrong.”
Ray barked a laugh, twirling her lollipop like a knife. “Pathetic. One drift and you lose your lunch? Amateur.”
Celeste, meanwhile, was still recovering. Dizzy and pale, she carefully unwound Bonbon from the carrier, who clapped happily and mumbled something in Welsh about “fun wheels.” Celeste swayed a little as she staggered out of the car.
“You,” she whispered breathlessly, “are never—ever—driving again.”
Mezzo wiped a fake tear dramatically, still beaming. “Worth it.”
Bonbon tugged Celeste’s cheek, pointing to the goat and wolf still fighting off the last of the horde.
Celeste steadied herself, her voice small but firm. “Right… we’re not finished yet.” She squared her shoulders, summoning Starlight and Starbrite. “Um—if everyone’s ready, we should… help them. Please.”
The goat snarled through his teeth, shoving back another corpse. “About bloody time—thought we’d die of old age before you lot joined in!”
The wolf’s voice cut like tempered steel, calm even in chaos: “Focus, Hughes. Hold the line. Reinforcements are here.”
He glanced at Celeste and her team, nodding once in grim respect. “Stay close. We end this together.”
Arcade was the first to react, his eyes flashing as he summoned C.H.I.P. into his full combat form—a gleaming, magnet-like robot with grey-patterned plating and thrusters that sparked on activation. With a commanding gesture, Arcade charged into battle, flanking the silver wolf and slamming into a cluster of candy-infected zombies, electricity arcing across their sticky bodies.
Ray, ever itching for a fight, joined him in a blur of motion. Her hammer materialized mid-stride, glowing with a purplish hue, and she smashed into the nearest foe with a guttural yell, reducing it to splinters of hardened fudge and syrup.
Before she could even catch her breath, something inside the weapon pulsed—mana thrumming beneath her grip. The hammer suddenly felt heavier, vibrating with an unstable charge.
“Oh, that’s… new,” she muttered.
Instinct took over before reason. She raised the hammer high overhead and brought it down with all her strength.
“Crater Smash!”
The impact detonated like a miniature explosion, sending a shockwave rippling out in a circle. The ground cracked beneath her feet, candy shards and sticky syrup blasting into the air. Smaller enemies were flung back, dazed and stumbling, a few completely stunned.
Ray blinked, gripping the hammer tightly, chest heaving. “...Okay. I definitely meant to do that.”
Celeste and Mezzo split off to deal with the stragglers—Mezzo, despite his earlier dramatics, was swift and brutal, using his sharp reflexes and hybrid strength to outpace and disable smaller threats. Celeste used a mix of agility and quick thinking, kicking over a candy bin to trip up a licorice-wrapped zombie before delivering a solid heel stomp to its sugar skull.
Meanwhile, back by the car, Lumina stayed close to Bonbon, who was still sitting in the wrap on the ground and munching on a strawberry. Lumina summoned her shield—a glowing, translucent heart that shimmered with soft pastel light—just in time to deflect a splash of acidic jelly hurled their way. The shield hissed slightly, but held strong.
Skye knelt beside them, fingers drawing a card from his launcher. A delicate healing fairy blinked into existence, its wings like sunlit glass. It floated to Celeste first, casting a gentle glow that soothed the bruises on her arm before zipping off toward Arcade, offering support wherever needed.
The battle was fast but chaotic, the brightly colored gore painting the cobbled path in streaks of candy blood. But together, the group worked in rhythm—unspoken, instinctive, hybrid-born synergy.
+300 EXP +Candy Bark (Common Drop)
The older billy goat, now free from the worst of the horde, adjusted his flat cap and gave a wary nod of thanks. The silver wolf, panting and holding a jagged piece of piping like a sword, stood with one arm out protectively.
Celeste glanced around as the dust—sugary and sparkling—settled around them. She clutched Bonbon closer, ears still ringing.
“Is… everyone alright?” she asked softly, breath shaky but steadying.
Bonbon raised her jelly-smeared hands. “Ffresin!” she shouted, delighted.
Ray flicked melted taffy off her cheek with her thumb and groaned. “Next fight, someone else can take goo duty. I’m not your mop.”
Mezzo leaned on the crumpled sports car, grinning wide. “So… lads—what’s the story? You two runnin’ a zombie farm out here or what?”
The billy goat gave a final grunt, shook syrup off his pitchfork, and muttered, “Young fools with sugar for brains…” He stomped past them without ceremony, flat cap askew, and rapped the bent hood of the sports car with his cane.
“Bloody sacrilege, what you did to this engine,” he grumbled, wrench already in paw. With practiced precision, he bent over the bonnet, glasses sliding down his nose as he began tinkering.
The group traded weary looks as the hum of tools filled the air.
Ahead, the barrier shimmered—impossibly tall, flickering under the setting sun like heat off asphalt. It felt wrong. A wall between dreams and reality.
Celeste stepped a little away from the noise, folding her arms and gazing at it. “It looks so… unnatural,” she whispered.
Arcade stood beside her, tablet flickering in his paws. His voice was clipped, calculating. “If Ray’s hammer really can destabilise it…”
“Then we hit fast and hard,” Ray finished, leaning casually on her hammer, lollipop now stuck behind her ear.
Mezzo rubbed the scuff on the car’s ruined bumper, sighing. “And if it pulls the same trick again—loops us back like it did before? We’re just runnin’ in circles.”
Lumina, sitting cross-legged with her shield in her lap, tilted her head. “Looks like… giant glass. But bad glass. Crunchy.”
Skye, beside her, added softly: “It hums wrong. Like… like a fridge about to break.”
The wolf leaned against a cracked signpost, arms folded. His silver fur caught the fading light, his expression measured but stern. “Whatever you’re planning,” he said evenly, “do it soon. That thing doesn’t like hesitation. It watches.”
Celeste froze, heart tightening. “…What thing?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
The wolf didn’t answer. He simply lifted his chin, pointing upward.
They all followed his gaze.
High above, wings spread vast and blazing, a phoenix circled in silence. The Syrup Phoenix, Ashsugar. Its feathers burned in molten hues, leaving a faint trail of embers as it wheeled through the sky.
The group’s breath caught, disbelief etched into every face.
“How… how didn’t we notice that?” Celeste murmured, horrified.
The wolf’s lips curled in a faint scoff. “Exactly. That’s why I said I was surprised you’re still alive. That thing’s been shadowing you, watching. And when your friend decided to barrel down the road in that car like a lunatic—” he cut Mezzo a sharp look, “—the horde scattered.”
Mezzo raised both paws. “Oi! Don’t blame me! That was style, that was!”
Arcade scrolled furiously through his device, voice tight. “He’s right. Before your stunt, my readings counted hundreds—possibly thousands—on the streets. Now…” His quills bristled as the numbers updated. “…barely a fraction remain.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not wandering. They’re being pulled back.”
“Coordinated,” Arcade confirmed grimly. “The phoenix. The centipede. Maybe more generals we haven’t seen yet.”
Celeste’s paws tightened against Bonbon, her voice small but heavy with dread. “Then… they don’t want us dead. Not yet. They’re… studying us.”
The goat didn’t even look up from his wrenchwork. “Or savin’ the feast for later,” he muttered darkly.
Ashsugar wheeled one more time, then vanished behind a bank of clouds—hidden, but not gone.
Silence pressed in on them, heavy as stone.
They weren’t just survivors anymore.
They were prey.
Arcade’s fingers trembled as he tapped furiously on his Arcbracer, eyes darting between flashing graphs and data streams. Numbers blurred, symbols warped.
“This—this doesn’t make sense. There were hundreds. They’re gone. That’s not supposed to happen. That’s not in the simulations—”
His voice cracked, breath shortening. The cold, calculating Arcade—the one who always had an answer—was unraveling. His hands shook, his quills bristling.
“I wasn’t ready,” he whispered, eyes wide. “I wasn’t ready for this.”
Skye darted to him without hesitation, gripping his cousin’s shoulders tight.
“Arcade!” he said firmly. “Look at me. Breathe. In and out. Copy me. One in. One out. Like we practiced.”
Arcade’s frantic gaze locked onto Skye’s. His chest hitched, but he forced himself to follow. One sharp inhale. One shaking exhale. Again. And again.
“You’re not alone,” Skye whispered, steady as bedrock. “We’ve got this. You’ve got this.”
Arcade swallowed, nodding, a tear cutting through the dust on his cheek.
Meanwhile, Celeste turned to Ray, urgency breaking through her usual softness. The barrier shimmered faintly at the end of the road, no more than a hundred meters away.
“We’re so close,” she said, ears flattened but eyes hard. “Meters from being free. I don’t know if it’ll hold—or burn us trying—but we have to try.”
She turned to Lumina, who was shielding Bonbon instinctively.
“Lumina, pet—stay with Bonbon. Keep her safe. Don’t move unless you must, alright?”
Lumina nodded seriously, shield glowing faintly as Bonbon clutched her stuffed toy and babbled nonsense encouragements.
Celeste’s voice grew steadier as she looked to the others. “Ray. Mezzo. You’re up. Please—smash that barrier. Whatever it takes.”
Mezzo cracked his knuckles, grin wild. “Finally. Something to break that isn’t a vending machine!”
Ray scoffed, swinging her hammer onto her shoulder. “No promises it won’t blow us sky-high. But if I’m going out, I’m going out swinging.”
Together, they sprinted toward the glowing edge of the city—toward the last hope of escape.
The phoenix Ashsugar screeched again, a cacophony of warped, sugary cruelty as it swept overhead. Its molten syrup wings dripped onto the asphalt, sizzling in neon puddles—each drop hissing with dark energy. It laughed—a shrill, knowing cackle—as if amused by their desperation.
Then, without warning, a dozen zombies burst from hiding. They poured from alleyways, flipped from rooftops, crawled from broken vehicles. Their movements were too fluid, too precise. These weren’t just undead—they were commanded.
An ambush.
Celeste’s heart pounded. She reached instinctively for her swords—those strange, unwieldy blades she still didn’t know how to use properly. Her arms felt heavy, untrained.
“Why swords?” she thought bitterly, backing up. “Why not a staff? Or magic—anything but this.”
She had always loved magic in games—controlling the field from a distance, healing, support, strategy. But here? Everything felt wrong. As if this world was designed to challenge her at every turn.
The zombies advanced, closing in on all sides.
Just then, the first one lunged—going straight for the old goat, who was still hunched over the crumpled car hood.
Celeste opened her mouth to scream a warning—
—but the creature froze in place.
Its limbs stiffened, its momentum halted mid-lunge. A strange shimmer surrounded it, like the air had thickened.
A pulse radiated from the old goat’s chest—a deep green light glowing from under his patched-up vest. The color was unmistakable. He had eaten a candy.
He turned slowly, not panicked at all.
“Thought I felt a tremor,” he muttered, standing up with surprising calm. He brushed his hands off, peering over his glasses. “Guess we’re doin’ this now.”
The trapped zombie cracked like toffee, splintering into caramelized dust before collapsing.
Celeste stared, wide-eyed, swords trembling in her hands.
“He’s… he’s a hybrid,” she breathed. “He must’ve eaten the candy.”
Her fear tangled with something else. Something sharper.
Curiosity.
Outnumbered and already exhausted, Celeste gritted her teeth and kept swinging. Every motion was slower, heavier, and her arms ached with the weight of inexperience. The horde was relentless. For every zombie she pushed back, another two closed in. Her foot slipped on sticky syrup pooling from the phoenix’s molten feathers above. She barely caught herself.
Just as one of the fudge-dog zombies lunged at her, the goat stepped in.
He grabbed its scruff with surprising strength—but instead of wrestling it, his arm flared with dark green light, and in his hand formed a crooked shepherd’s staff with a clock embedded in its center. The hands of the clock spun wildly, ticking with a deep hum of restrained power.
Everstill
With one clean swing, the staff connected with the zombie—and in an instant, it slowed. Its furious growl warped into molasses-thick groaning as it crawled through the air in near stillness, its limbs moving like they were stuck in jelly.
One of the fudge dogs lunged, jaws dripping with molten chocolate, eyes glowing like embers. Celeste stumbled back, still shaking from her messy spiral, her blades half-raised but unsteady.
One of the fudge dogs lunged, jaws dripping with molten chocolate, eyes glowing like embers. Celeste stumbled back, still shaking from her messy spiral, her blades half-raised but unsteady.
“Stay down,” Hughes barked, stepping in front of her.
He raised his crook, grip steady, movements economical as ever. With a sharp exhale, he swung it down in a decisive strike.
Attack - Echo Strike.
The crook slammed into the cobblestones with a bone-rattling CRACK. For a heartbeat, the air warped—then a faint afterimage of the weapon shimmered behind the first blow, lagging just a fraction out of sync.
The fudge dog froze mid-charge, its movements slowed as if caught in a syrup-thick current. Then the echo slammed down—harder, sharper, like the first strike’s shadow had solidified into pure force.
The beast’s chest collapsed inward under the weight of it, molten sugar spewing as it crumpled into the dirt.
Celeste blinked, awe in her wide blue eyes. “What… was that?”
Hughes straightened, tapping his crook once against the ground as though nothing unusual had happened. His face betrayed nothing—no surprise, no pride, just his usual carved-from-stone expression.
“An old trick,” he said gruffly, eyes already scanning for the next threat. “Don’t read into it. Just keep your guard up.”
But as he turned away, his knuckles tightened imperceptibly on the crook, and a flicker of thought passed behind his eyes. He had never done that before.
+300 EXP
Celeste blinked. The fudge-dog was vulnerable.
Clumsily but decisively, she struck. Her blades cleaved through the softened creature like slicing a birthday cake. The sickly sweet corpse collapsed in sticky pieces.
The fudge dogs barreled forward, massive jaws snapping, molten chocolate dripping from their fangs. Their paws struck the ground with a sickening squelch, scattering sticky globs across the ruined street. Hughes stepped ahead, crook in hand, his eyes sharp as ever.
“Stay close, lass,” he warned, bracing himself as one of the beasts lunged. “These aren’t sewer pests. They’ll tear you apart if you slip.”
Celeste swallowed hard, her twin katanas trembling in her grip. This was only her second time in real combat. Her body screamed at her to run, but somewhere deep inside—something else stirred.
The first fudge dog leapt.
She slashed once—clumsy, wide, but glowing faintly with mana. A second cut followed, tighter, smoother, almost like her body remembered something her mind did not.
Then she felt it—that instinct.
She pivoted, katanas crossing, and spun.
Attack - Nova Spiral.
Light erupted in a messy surge as her blades whirled around her. The spiral burst outward, glowing arcs knocking the fudge dogs back with a blast of syrup and steam. The glow was unsteady, uneven, and she stumbled at the end, crashing to one knee with a startled gasp.
+300 EXP +Liquorice Tar (Common Drop)
The dogs reeled, stunned but not defeated. Hughes’ crook slammed down, finishing one that tried to regain its footing. He glanced at her, eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in measured curiosity.
“Clumsy,” he muttered, hauling her back to her feet. “But that… wasn’t half bad. Almost like you’d done it before.”
Celeste’s breath came quick, her heart hammering. “I… I don’t know how I did that.”
Hughes gave a dry huff, eyes scanning the battlefield. “Instinct’s a start. Training’ll make it real. Now—again.”
Celeste tightened her grip, still shaking, but this time when she raised her blades, there was a spark of certainty in her eyes.
Then her arm bumped into the goat’s.
A jolt passed between them—not electric, but ethereal. Like her lungs had been squeezed empty. The green glow that had surrounded the goat rushed into her chest, flooding her core, her vision flaring.
Her blades shimmered.
And when she swung again—
—the zombies around her slowed.
Their movements jerked, sluggish and sticky, just like the goat’s ability.
That’s when it clicked.
The dreams. The shards. Her role.
The strange way her powers never made sense—how nothing seemed to belong to her.
“Mirror.”
She wasn’t supposed to have her own powers.
She was meant to mirror others. Copy them. Amplify them.
A hybrid of everything, yet nothing on her own. A copycat.
And now, empowered by the goat’s ability, Celeste stood straighter, blades glowing faint green.
She wasn’t just swinging wildly anymore.
Now, she was fighting smart.
Using the borrowed power of time-slowing, Celeste weaved through the fight like she never had before. Zombies moved as if underwater—stiff, confused, sluggish. Her blades struck with precision. She sliced, ducked, twisted—fighting like someone who almost knew what they were doing.
But the power was fading.
Chapter 28 : Awakening the Storm
Each swing grew heavier. Each breath more ragged. The green glow from Hughes was flickering.
“Arcade!” Celeste cried, voice sharp with fear. “Please—we need you!”
But Arcade wasn’t there. Not really.
He was on his knees, rocking slightly, tablet forgotten in the dust. Wide eyes staring through the chaos, chest heaving. C.H.I.P. hovered beside him, beeping anxiously, trying to nudge his paw.
“Master, optimal protocol is… hugging?”
It wasn’t enough.
Then Skye stepped forward, small body trembling—but steady. His ears twitched, his paws outstretched. A shimmer flared.
A towering warrior spirit erupted beside him—armored, shield in hand, radiant light sweeping outward. Each swing of the spirit’s kite shield knocked zombies back, buying Arcade precious seconds.
Skye’s voice was small, but firm: “I’ve got you. Stay down. Breathe.”
On the far side, Ray hammered the barrier again and again. Splinters of light cracked and healed instantly.
“Come on, you glowing bastard!” she snarled, voice raw. “Break! BREAK!”
Beside her, Mezzo wailed in frustration, swinging his guitar like a madman.
“This is bollocks! What kinda dome doesn’t even crack?! I’ve seen toffee softer than this!”
He kicked it. Nothing. He punched it. Nothing. He slammed his axe again. Still nothing.
“Celeste!” he shouted, sweat dripping down his muzzle. “Ray’s about to bust a lung and I’m gettin’ less feedback than a dead amp!”
Ray just roared and slammed harder, sparks spraying.
Celeste’s panic surged. Even with all of them fighting—this wasn’t enough. And the phoenix circled above, molten syrup dripping in mocking streaks, watching. Waiting.
From the broken ledge above, the silver-furred wolf tossed vials and cloth bombs into the horde. They burst in clouds of blinding powder and sticky light, slowing the tide for seconds.
“This won’t hold!” his voice carried, firm but urgent. “Make your move now—or we’re finished!”
The warning barely hit when a crack split the air—
A fudge-dog zombie barreled through, jaws gaping, sprinting for Mezzo.
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Mezzo! Look out!”
But Mezzo froze, crowbar half-raised, too slow.
The beast leapt—
—and Mezzo vanished.
A gust of air swept where he’d been. A blur of brown and red streaked behind the zombie.
WHAM!
The creature slammed into a gumdrop boulder, splattering into caramel sludge.
The blur stopped.
Mezzo stood, chest heaving, paws trembling. His eyes darted to his hands.
“What… the hell… was that?!” he panted.
Celeste’s jaw dropped. “You—you moved like—like lightning, pet!”
Arcade, pale but pulled back for a moment, muttered between breaths. “He… awakened. Speed-type. Reflex burst. Environmental skip.”
Mezzo stared down at his hands, then grinned like a lunatic.
“Holy crap—I’m a flipping blur!”
He shot forward, zigzagging across the battlefield in jagged streaks. Zombies toppled like bowling pins, splattering sugar and syrup as his laughter echoed.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t controlled.
But it worked.
Celeste’s breath caught in her throat as the battlefield lit with fire and fury.
“They’re… they’re evolving,” she whispered. “Unlocking. Adapting.”
But above, the phoenix only laughed louder, molten wings stretching wide, dripping neon fire in contempt.
Mezzo blurred between the fudge-dogs, a sugar-rush pinball of steel and sound. He darted past one, slapped another on the back of its sticky head just to mock it, then carved downward with Heartaxe, caramel bursting in a gooey explosion.
Then—with a manic flourish—he swung his guitar up, strumming a chaotic riff.
BOOOOM.
The chord tore through the battlefield like thunder. Gum walls shattered, candy canes cracked, chocolate critters went flying. Shards of EXP sparkled through the air like falling stars.
“This is the best bloody day of my life!” Mezzo bellowed, his laughter echoing.
The fudge-dogs regrouped, circling, jaws dripping molten sugar. One lunged, another flanked, their bulk threatening to crush him.
Mezzo’s grin faltered. Panic flared in his chest—then something snapped. His body surged faster than thought.
The world blurred. His paws sparked against the stones, wings trailing fire. Time seemed to slow.
“What the hell—?!” Mezzo gasped, but instinct carried him forward.
He swung Heartaxe in a blazing arc.
Attack – Blazing Chord Slash.
The blade sang like a guitar note struck too loud for heaven to ignore. A wave of fire blasted outward, ripping into the fudge-dogs with explosive force. Their candied hides cracked, caramel boiling as they were hurled back into rubble.
The cobblestones smoked black, syrup hissing where it melted. Mezzo staggered, chest heaving, fur sparking.
He blinked at his paws. “Did… did I just do that?”
Celeste stared in awe, swords forgotten at her side. “You—you moved like lightning, pet. Like… like a storm in fur.”
Mezzo barked out a ragged laugh, leaning on Heartaxe. “Guess I had a solo in me after all. And sweet mercy—it rocked.”
But across the field, Ray was cornered.
The towering fudge-bull bore down, its molten jawbreaker horns glistening, hooves cracking the sugar-glass road.
Ray’s hands trembled. Then clenched.
“You think you’re scary?!” she screamed, voice raw.
The bull lunged.
Ray met it head-on.
Her aura erupted—scarlet flame pouring from her core. Her eyes blazed, her fists crackled, and with a roar that split the night she slammed forward.
CRACK.
The bull split in two, fudge and candy erupting across the field.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Ray stood in the wreckage, chest heaving, aura still burning crimson.
Celeste whispered, “She’s… she’s rage.”
Arcade, wide-eyed, almost reverent: “Strength-type. Pure, unrestrained force. Gods above…”
Ray flexed her bruised knuckles, cracked her neck with a dangerous grin, and growled, “That. Felt. Good.”
Hughes let out a sharp bark of laughter, jabbing his cane-pitchfork into the dirt. “Bloody hell. She’s a cannon with legs.”
The wolf Bracer gave a short, approving nod. His voice was calm, resolute. “No. She’s a weapon the generals will fear.”
Another zombie bull charged, its body a grotesque fusion of bone and caramelized sinew, eyes glowing like molten toffee. Each hoofbeat shook the ruined street, and its bellow rattled the very air.
Ray gritted her teeth, Heartbreaker clutched in both paws. She’d fought plenty of candy freaks, but this—this was a wall of raw muscle and rage bearing down on her. Her legs screamed to move, but something inside burned hotter.
She planted her feet instead.
The bull lowered its head, syrup-slick horns glinting. At the last possible heartbeat, Ray swung.
Attack - Crater Smash.
Heartbreaker crashed downward in a thunderous overhead arc, slamming into the cobblestones with the weight of a falling star. The ground erupted in a localized shockwave, purple fire exploding outward in jagged cracks.
The bull staggered, hooves skidding as the shockwave rippled beneath it. Smaller shambling zombies nearby were thrown off their feet, some collapsing in stunned heaps, syrup splattering across the ground.
Ray stood panting, her mane wild with sparks, staring at the crater she had just carved into the stone. For a moment, she didn’t believe it herself.
Celeste, frozen mid-step, breathed out, “Ray… your strength—”
Ray’s lips curled into a grin, wide and wolfish, even as her shoulders trembled from the strain. “Heh. Guess I’ve been holding back.”
The bull snorted, struggling to rise from the cracked ground, but now there was fear flickering in its candied eyes.
Ray tightened her grip on Heartbreaker. “Your turn, sugarhorn.”
More and more, the group was beginning to realize:
This wasn’t luck. This was evolution.
Their powers were waking up—one by one.
And the battlefield had just become their proving ground.
Celeste’s heart hammered. A spark of desperation—of wild inspiration—ignited. She darted forward, brushing Ray’s shoulder, then Mezzo’s arm. Power jolted into her veins. Strength. Speed. Borrowed, shared, amplified.
Her swords flared to life as she sprinted toward the barrier, her feet striking like thunder.
“Please—please—work!” she cried, her voice cracking as she slammed into the glowing wall, blades and fists hammering, sparks bursting with each strike.
Every blow carried memory. Her father’s stern gaze. Her sister’s lost smile. Her friends—laughing, fighting, alive.
She wanted it back. All of it.
“This world’s stolen enough!” she screamed. “Give it back!”
But then—
Ashsugar shrieked, molten light blazing as it plummeted from the sky. Her laugh was cruel, lilting, dripping like syrup.
“Delightful,” She hissed. “Claw all you want, little moths. You will never break it. The barrier breathes. It thinks. It feeds. And you?”
It spread its blazing wings, voice like silk and fire.
“You are nothing but ants in its garden.”
Then, a shriek ripped the air. Celeste barely turned before a blast of energy struck her back, launching her forward. She screamed, crumpling against the wall. The Syrup Phoenix laughed, voice cruel and lilting:
“That’s enough of that. Did you really think it’d work? Oh sweet, sweet delusion…'
A burst of neon flame slammed into Celeste’s back. She shrieked, flung like a ragdoll against the barrier. Her body crumpled, the air scorched from her lungs.
Ashsugar's laughter echoed.
Celeste gasped, vision blurring. Pain consumed her—but then, faintly, her back against the wall began to glow. The burns dulled. Breath returned.
“…cover healing,” she whispered weakly. “Like… games…”
But it was too slow. And as her light flickered—so did the others’.
Arcade’s robot glitched, sparks sputtering. Ray’s hammer shimmered, flickering in and out. Mezzo’s speed faltered mid-step, his blur collapsing.
Celeste’s fading will was dragging them all down.
Hughes’s eyes widened. “She’s—she’s losing it!”
“Quickly—grab her!” Ray shouted, panic in her voice, catching Celeste just as her legs buckled. Together, she and Mezzo hauled her up, sprinting toward the car. The Phoenix screamed, neon flames streaking behind it like meteor trails as it dove after them.
Mezzo, wide-eyed, saw something in Celeste’s face—not strength, not hope—but the kind of stillness that came before the end. His breath hitched.
“She’s dying,” he choked.
“No she bloody isn’t,” Ray growled, hauling Celeste’s limp weight onto her back. “Not on my watch.”
Arcade snapped out of his spiral, voice cracking. “C.H.I.P.! Emergency support protocol! Full shield, now!”
A wide burst of energy shimmered into place just as the Phoenix dove, flames crashing against the shield. It wavered, but held—for five precious seconds.
“MOVE!” the wolf Bracer barked from above, his tone sharp but steady. He hurled another smoke vial, buying them a heartbeat.
Mezzo shoved the goat’s battered car door open. “Everyone in! Go, go, go!”
Lumina had Bonbon wrapped behind her shield in the backseat, eyes wide. “Hurryhurryhurry!” she squeaked, humming in panic.
Doors slammed. Tires screeched.
The car roared to life, patched engine screaming as they tore down the sugar-cracked road. Behind them, neon fire raked the ground as the the Syrup Phoenix screamed its fury.
In the backseat, Celeste blinked faintly, her head resting against Ray’s shoulder. Her lips moved, voice soft, almost apologetic.
“I… I tried…”
Ray’s grip tightened around her, jaw clenched. “Shut up, blondie. You’re not done yet.”
Chapter 29 : After the Fire
Celeste woke slowly—her vision blurry, head pounding, and body aching with every breath. Her skin felt tight beneath the bandages, the pain only dulled by fatigue. The soft scent of sugar and antiseptic hung in the air. She blinked until her surroundings came into focus.
She was in the base.
But Celeste… Celeste’s vision blurred.
Then something warm pressed against her.
Her eyes fluttered open—and for the briefest heartbeat, she saw it. Lumina’s small face glowing faintly, her irises lit like twin pink lanterns. Her tiny hands hovered over Celeste’s burns, and where the light touched, the agony dulled.
“L-Lumina…” Celeste croaked, a tear slipping down her cheek.
But Lumina didn’t answer.
Her face was calm—too calm—as if she were somewhere else entirely. She just kept holding her hands steady, the glow spilling out, the healing slow but steady.
Celeste, weak and trembling, lifted her hand to nudge her sister’s shoulder. “Sweetheart? …Please—”
Nothing. Lumina didn’t even blink.
Then the door banged open.
Skye stumbled in, his big ears twitching wildly. His eyes landed on Lumina. On the glow. On Celeste.
“No, no, no!” he blurted, voice cracking. “Stop—stop it! You’ll burn out!”
Lumina froze.
The glow flickered—then vanished.
Pain slammed back into Celeste’s body like molten chains. She gasped, the breath torn from her lungs as her vision shattered into blackness.
When she awoke again she felt lighter.
Celeste looked around. The sugary walls shimmered softly, casting pastel light across the room. Bandages wrapped much of her torso and limbs, and beside her—perched like a silent guardian—was Lumina.
Her eyes were closed in concentration, little paws glowing faintly with golden light.
“…You’re awake,” Lumina whispered, her voice small but proud. A rare smile tugged at her lips. “You’re lucky. I learned I can heal too.”
Celeste tried to push herself upright, but Lumina’s glowing hands pressed gently against her shoulder.
Celeste blinked, her throat tightening. “Pet… you’re the reason I’m still here.”
Before she could say more, Skye slipped quietly in from the corner of the room. His large ears twitched as he watched them, his tone blunt but not unkind.
“She… she figured it out,” he said, eyes flicking toward Lumina. “Healing. But it takes a lot out of her. She can’t control it yet.” His words stumbled, but his meaning was clear. “She… fixated on you. Wouldn’t stop.”
Lumina’s ears flushed pink. She ducked her head quickly, mumbling, “Didn’t… didn’t want you to die.”
Celeste’s chest ached in a way that wasn’t just the burns. “Oh, love…” she whispered, reaching weakly for her sister’s paw.
But before the moment could deepen, a sound echoed down the hallway—boots against sugar-stone, faint but sharp.
Skye’s head snapped toward the door. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Stay here.”
And without hesitation, he slipped out to check the sound, leaving Celeste with her sister and the quiet glow of golden light.
From outside the door, raised voices cut through the calm.
“You froze!” Ray’s voice, sharp as glass. “We could’ve all died because of you!”
Arcade snapped back, frustration bleeding through his normally controlled tone. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that—I didn’t calculate that many zombies!”
“If she had died,” Ray snapped, “We would’ve died. She’s the only one keeping our powers together!”
There was a heavy silence.
Even Mezzo—normally a storm of noise—was quiet. When he spoke, his voice shook. “I—I thought she was gone. Just—gone. I didn’t know what to do.”
Arcade’s reply came weaker, almost breaking. “I… I wasn’t ready. I don’t freeze. I don’t panic. That’s not me.”
But everyone could hear it—the guilt. The fear.
Inside the room, Celeste stirred faintly, turning her head toward Lumina. Her voice rasped, small, worn. “They’re… fighting.”
Lumina nodded, her little hands fidgeting with her sleeves, glow flickering at her fingertips. “They’re scared. All of us are. But when you fell—everything almost came apart.”
Celeste’s eyes closed, her breath hitching. The Phoenix’s mocking laugh rang in her mind. The heat. The helplessness in her friends’ eyes.
She had tried to fight the impossible.
And now they all knew just how real the danger was— and how fragile their hope had become.
From the corridor, the heated argument softened—not because tensions vanished, but because a new voice cut through.
Firm. Grounded. Commanding in its simplicity.
“You can’t lead with panic,” the voice said flatly. “You’ll burn out before the real fight even begins.”
Mr. Hughes. The goat. He refused to give his first name—“Just Hughes” was all he ever gave—but his presence carried the weight of old wars. His words weren’t soothing, but they landed heavy, like stone.
“Too many opinions, not enough sense,” Hughes continued, voice low and steady. “Rest. Regroup. Start actin’ like a unit. Or don’t. Won’t matter to the monsters out there. They’ll eat you just the same.”
Silence followed. The shouting dulled to a grumble. Even Arcade, still trembling from earlier, folded back into his corner, muttering to his device instead of defending himself.
Beside Hughes stood the silver-furred wolf, arms crossed. He hadn’t given his name, and he didn’t seem the type who offered it freely. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured, resolute.
“If you’ll have me, I’ll fight alongside you. I’m not here for friendship. I need shelter. But I’ll earn my place.”
No one objected. No one dared.
Inside the room, Celeste stirred faintly at the sound of tiny footsteps.
Bonbon.
The little panda toddled in, her oversized yellow hoodie with rainbow streaks dragging along the floor. The fabric caught on the doorframe—she tugged free with a small huff, determined as ever.
Without a word, she climbed onto the cot, curled against Celeste’s side, and shut her eyes.
Celeste’s chest ached—but this time, with warmth. Not from magic. From comfort. Bonbon had found her.
At her side, Lumina peeled away another strip of bandages, her hands glowing faintly gold as she leaned closer. Celeste winced as the sting flared—but the pain was already softening, dulled by Lumina’s light.
“You’re getting better,” Celeste whispered softly, her voice thin but full of awe.
Lumina nodded quickly, brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s… easier now. Like… it wants to help you.”
Celeste watched her in silence for a moment, then reached to brush back a strand of her sister’s hair. “…How are you holding out, pet? Really.”
Lumina’s hands paused. Her ears drooped. “…I’m scared,” she admitted in a whisper. “I don’t want to be the healer. I just… want someone else to look after us.”
Celeste’s throat tightened. “…Me too,” she murmured, voice small. “Sometimes I wish Dad was here. He was in the military, remember? I bet he could kill… oh, dozens of zombies.”
Lumina sniffled, managing a tiny laugh. “Dozens? Pfft. More like hundreds. He’d be like—” She swung her arm clumsily, mimicking a sword. “Swipe! Slash! Zap!”
Celeste chuckled, covering her mouth. “A whole army wiped out in an hour. He’d be grumpy about it too.”
Lumina’s smile faded after a moment, her eyes lifting to her sister. “Why… why did you leave?”
Celeste’s ears dipped. “…I wasn’t going to. Not really. But Melody… she helped me. I—” She swallowed, guilt pricking her chest. “When Dad said I’d never leave the mansion, I panicked. I thought… what if I never get to know what life’s all about? So I made a stupid decision.”
Lumina shook her head firmly. “Not stupid. But… Dad missed you when you left.”
Celeste blinked at her. “He did? He’s always been the broody type.”
“No.” Lumina’s voice was soft, but certain. “He looked… guilty.”
Celeste frowned faintly at that, the thought nagging at her—but she didn’t press. She leaned forward instead, resting her forehead lightly against Lumina’s. “I’m just glad we’re together now. Thank you… for sneaking to the convention with me.”
Lumina gave a tiny huff of a laugh. “Kinda wish I hadn’t. But…” She glanced up shyly. “…It’s nice. Spending time with you.”
Celeste smiled, eyes shining. “And with you, love.”
Celeste exhaled slowly. The weight of the Phoenix’s laughter still lingered in her mind, the smell of burning sugar in her nose. But here—in this fragile, flickering moment—she was surrounded by warmth. Small hands. Quiet healing. Familiar comfort.
The war wasn’t over. The danger hadn’t passed.
But she was alive.
And that, for now, meant everything.
Chapter 30 : Under Sugar-Stained Stars
Hours passed and darkness had fallen, the house along with it—quiet and still. Celeste stirred gently, careful not to wake the others. Lumina had dozed off on a beanbag made of marshmallows, a soft snore rising and falling as faint healing magic flickered in her palms, even in sleep. Bonbon had curled up on the bed beside her, her oversized rainbow hoodie tangled around her, and her little beaker dripping slowly through the covers with soft plink plink sounds.
Celeste eased herself up and quietly slipped outside, seeking the crispness of night air. The stars twinkled above the dome, brighter than she expected. Even trapped in this warped, sugar-glazed reality, the sky somehow remained real. Clouds moved lazily, untethered by whatever magic powered the barrier. She hugged her arms around herself, breathing in deeply. Was anyone else alive out there? Was the military coming? Would they break through this candy-colored nightmare? Or were they really… alone?
For a moment, she allowed herself the urge to cry. Just for a minute. To be weak. To admit how utterly afraid she was.
But behind her, there were footsteps—measured, familiar, and tapping rhythmically.
For just a minute, she let herself be small. Weak. Afraid.
Celeste wiped at her face quickly and forced a nod. “I—I’m fine. Really.”
A sharp tap landed on the back of her head. She squeaked, spinning to see Hughes lowering his crooked cane, brow furrowed under his cap.
“You were bloody stupid,” he said flatly.
Celeste blinked. “S-sorry?”
“Charging a barrier you don’t understand. Picking a fight with a Phoenix. Burning yourself out till you nearly dropped the lot of us.” He sniffed. “Suicidal, more like.”
“I was only trying to—”
“Save everyone,” he cut in, unimpressed. “Aye, I know. Doesn’t make it clever.”
Celeste wilted, ears low. “What else was I supposed to do? Just… just stand there while everyone died?”
Hughes came to lean beside her, cane planted in the sugar-crusted earth. He didn’t look at her, just stared at the warped horizon. “You know, I’ve been watchin’ them. Your lot.”
“They’re strong, sure. Fierce. Got odd gifts between ’em. But it all falters when you’re down. Their magic stutters. Their heads go. You’re the centre they’re leaning on, whether you asked for it or not.”
Celeste shook her head quickly. “Oh, no—I’m not, um, I’m not really that sort. I didn’t even—”
“You talk, they listen. You fall, they crack. Doesn’t matter what you think you are.” His eyes narrowed at her. “Like it or not, you’re already their leader.”
Celeste swallowed, wringing her paws. “…But I didn’t ask for that. I—I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. I just…” Her voice dropped. “I just wanted to help.”
“World doesn’t care what you wanted,” Hughes said gruffly. “You’re all they’ve got. And if you keep burnin’ yourself out, you’ll kill us faster than the candy freaks.”
Celeste’s throat tightened. “What if I can’t do it?”
“Then you learn,” he said bluntly. “Fast. Or die tryin’. And if you’re lucky, you only manage the first one.” His mouth twitched in a dry chuckle. “Better odds than most.”
Celeste’s lips curved in the smallest smile despite herself. “You’re… not very reassuring.”
“Not my job to be.” Hughes adjusted his cap. “My job’s to keep you lot alive long enough to get good at this.”
He tapped his cane against the ground once, firm. “Now get some rest. This isn’t over. That flaming bird’ll be back, sure as dawn.”
When Hughes finally left her to the stars, Celeste lingered, wrapping her arms around herself. The silence pressed in, heavy but steady.
“…Alright,” she whispered to no one, “let’s… let’s try again.”
She lifted her paws, focusing. A shimmer of light sparked between her fingers—fragile at first, then shaping into the faint outline of her twin katanas. Their forms flickered, unstable, like candle flames in the wind.
“Come on, please,” she begged softly. “Just… just work for me this once.”
The blades solidified—and immediately tipped her forward. Celeste squeaked as the weight pulled her off balance.
Whump.
She landed flat on her face in the sugar-dusted dirt.
“…Ow,” she muttered, ears burning red as she spat out a sprinkle of caramel grit. “Graceful as ever.”
She pushed herself up, tried again. This time the swords formed clean, humming faintly with borrowed light. Celeste steadied her breath, lifted one into a shaky guard stance—then toppled straight backward with a yelp, thudding onto her tail.
She lay there for a moment, staring up at the dome’s twinkling stars. “I’m… not very good at this, am I?” she sighed, voice small and rueful.
That’s when she heard it.
A faint buzz.
Celeste sat up, ears flicking. Across the sugar-field, something hovered just above the grass. Small, mechanical, wings whirring softly.
Her breath caught. It looked like a dragon—tiny, toy-like, its body sleek and metallic with glowing eyes. A drone.
“…What are you?” she whispered, rising carefully to her feet.
The dragon tilted its head at her, almost curious.
Then—whirr—it darted away, wings humming fast as it zipped across the field.
Celeste blinked, startled. “Wait—!”
Without thinking, she stumbled after it, swords vanishing back into sparks as she jogged across the darkened sugar-strewn grass.
Odd. Unnerving. Intriguing.
She had no idea where it was leading her.
But her paws carried her forward anyway.
The drone zipped further into the sugar fields, and Celeste followed, her steps crunching against crystallized grass. The hum of its wings drew her onward, until the warm glow of the base was only a faint spark behind her.
Then the moaning began.
Shapes shambled from the shadows—sticky forms, dripping syrup and gum. One. Then three. Then a dozen.
Celeste’s heart raced. “Oh stars—no, no, not now.”
She darted left, slipping past a jelly-limbed runner. She ducked under another, clumsy but quick, her swords flickering into her paws for balance more than fighting. At first, she managed to weave between them—her breath catching with every close call.
But they kept coming. More and more, oozing from alleys and sugar-coated ruins.
And she was too far from the base.
Celeste’s paws faltered. “I… I can’t—”
The ground trembled.
A great white shape dropped from the sky, folding out of nothing like an enormous sheet of origami. Paper wings spread wide, gleaming under the false starlight. A dragon—vast, elegant, impossibly sharp and delicate, as if each scale was folded from ivory parchment.
Celeste froze, eyes wide. “…The dragon from the convention?”
The dragon roared, its voice like tearing silk, and the zombies crumbled beneath its sweeping strikes. Candy beasts shattered into shards of caramel and frosting as the paper wings sliced through them, leaving only glittering dust in the air.
Then the earth shook again.
From the ruins, a massive sugar lion emerged—jawbreaker mane glowing, its molasses jaws dripping. It bellowed, charging for the dragon.
The dragon moved swiftly, lowering her head to nudge Celeste with a sharp paper nose. Before Celeste could react, she was scooped up—lifted high, set gently between the dragon’s folded horns.
Wings unfolded wide, catching the false wind. The world dropped away beneath them—ruins, zombies, the raging lion shrinking below. And above—
The dome’s night sky glittered, stars scattered like diamonds. For the first time in days, Celeste’s panic softened into wonder.
“It’s like… a fantasy game,” she breathed, eyes wide, tears stinging. “I’m flying…”
The dragons flight was graceful, weaving through the air like brushstrokes of paper against canvas. Celeste clung tight, her heart racing—but now from awe, not fear.
Too soon, the dragon circled low, wings beating steady as she descended toward the egg-shaped base. With a delicate tilt of her head, It set Celeste down gently on the sugar-dusted ground.
Celeste reached up, her paw trembling, and patted the dragon’s nose softly. “…Thank you.”
Behind her, within the egg base, the core gem pulsed—glowing in resonance, like it was answering the dragons presence.
Celeste turned to look—then back again.
But the dragon was already gone, wings folding in on themselves as she dissolved into the starlight.
Celeste stood there in silence, her chest aching with awe. “…Beautiful.”
Chapter 31 : Sugar Map, Bitter Truths
Celeste could hardly sleep after the white dragons flight. Her whole body still buzzed with the memory—the rush of wind, the stars spread endless above her, the view so impossibly vast it had stolen her breath. She wanted to tell them. She wanted to blurt it all out the moment she saw the others.
But then Hughes’ gruff voice echoed in her head. “Stupid.”
And she imagined Ray’s scowl. Arcade’s sharp questions. Even Skye’s blunt worry.
If they knew she’d wandered out, alone, and wound up in a dragon’s claws…
Celeste pulled her hood tighter around herself and whispered to the empty dark, “Maybe best… not to mention it.”
When morning came.
Celeste was up bright and early, the sting of Hughes’ words still hanging at the edges of her thoughts. She took a deep breath, straightened her hoodie, and opened the bedroom door.
To her surprise, Mezzo was waiting just outside, leaning against the wall.
No grin. No joke. No guitar riff.
Just Mezzo—serious, for once.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You alright?”
Celeste blinked, caught off guard. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “I… yeah. I think so.” A pause. “…Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I thought if I acted fast—if I just pushed—I could end it quickly.”
Mezzo didn’t answer at first. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug—tight, solid, unexpected.
“You’re my favorite idiot in this place,” he muttered into her hair. “Don’t mess it up by dying on me.”
Celeste let out a breathy laugh, part sigh. “You too, huh? That’s… not the first lecture I’ve had.”
Mezzo finally cracked a crooked grin. “Damn it. I was trying to be first.”
He pulled back, then flicked her nose with one finger.
And then—zip—he vanished down the corridor in a blur of sugar-dust wind, his laughter trailing behind him:
“WOOHOO! Powers are back, baby!”
Celeste stood in the hallway, smiling despite herself. She shook her head, whispering softly, “Idiot.”
But her heart felt lighter.
Much lighter.
Almost as if the stars she’d flown beneath were still with her.
Celeste, ever prim and proper despite everything, walked into the kitchen with her usual quiet grace—expecting the familiar chaos of morning banter and sugary breakfast. But the kitchen was empty. She frowned. No half-eaten marshmallows. No arguing over dreamshards. Not even Mezzo dramatically complaining about the lack of pizza. She stepped further in, glancing around, until something caught her eye—a new doorway, carved from striped candy canes, glimmering like it had always been there. Curious, she stepped through.
The room beyond took her breath away.
It was a circular chamber, its floor tiled in soft pastel fondant. At its center stood a massive cookie table, round like a knight’s council, with ornate cookie chairs spaced evenly around it. Each one bore a different color and gem. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla.
In the middle of the cookie table was a cavity shaped like a bowl, filled with swirling, crystallized sugar that pulsed with light. It wasn’t just decoration.
The sugar reacted to Arcade, who stood beside it, fingers gently brushing glowing runes at the edge. As he touched each rune, the sugar rose, shimmered, and shifted—forming a detailed 3D map of Clawdiff. The city spun slowly, with flickering indicators marking their current base and the surrounding zones. Names floated above each person’s location like hovering banners.
Celeste stepped closer, just as Ray and Hughes exchanged tense glances across the table. The silver wolf stood near them, pointing to various zones on the map.
“This,” Bracer said, his voice steady, “is the Commercial District. Overrun, unstable. Still… survivors would head there first. And here—” he indicated a jagged corner at the edge of the dome—“the barrier is thinnest. If anything will break, it will be there.”
He stepped back, letting the map rotate again.
Celeste’s ears drooped slightly. A council table. Knights. A base reshaping itself to fit them.
She didn’t speak yet, but the message pressed down on her: This wasn’t just shelter anymore. This was the start of something bigger.
Arcade looked up from the sugar map as she entered, a rare, genuine smile lighting his face. “Ah, Celeste. You’re looking remarkably better. The treatments I prescribed clearly worked. Even if medicine isn’t my primary discipline, I—”
“Shut up, Doc,” Ray cut in, arms crossed as she leaned against a cookie pillar. “This whole room popped up after midnight. Wasn’t here before.”
Hughes chuckled, cane tapping the floor. “Seems the base decided we needed a leader. And a place for them to sit.”
Before Celeste could answer, a gust of air whooshed in. Mezzo zipped across the room and collapsed into the largest cookie chair, sprawling with both feet kicked up.
“Well, obviously it’s me,” he announced, striking a pose with a candy cane scepter. “All hail King Mezzo, ruler of the sugar dome and seven sweets of Clawdiff.”
Arcade’s brow furrowed. “On what grounds do you consider yourself suitable for leadership?”
“On the grounds of vibes,” Mezzo shot back with a grin. He licked the scepter dramatically.
Ray groaned. “Let’s be real. If you were in charge, this place would be a pizza parlor with disco lights by morning.”
Arcade folded his arms tightly. “Better than freezing in battle, wouldn’t you say?”
Ray’s grin sharpened. “You mean the popsicle impression you pulled last fight? Flawless. Really.”
“Enough,” Hughes barked, cane smacking the floor. His eyes shifted to Celeste, voice dropping to a gruff mutter. “Best get them in line before one of these eejits crowns a gummy bear pope.”
Silence spread, heavy but expectant.
All eyes turned to Celeste.
The reluctant heart of the group. The one who somehow held them together—even when she was breaking herself.
Celeste swallowed hard, her paws twisting nervously in her sleeves. “…Oh, um… I’m not… really the, ah, leader-y sort, you know?” She gave a tiny, sheepish laugh. “But if—if you want, I can… try to, um… keep us from crowning confectionary clergy.”
Her voice trembled, soft but sincere.
Hughes’ brow rose, his tone dry. “That’s as close to a speech as we’ll get out of her. Best take it.”
Ray smirked. Mezzo grinned. Arcade adjusted his glasses, pretending not to be pleased.
The room fell briefly quiet. Everyone looked to Celeste—the reluctant heart of the group, the one who kept them from falling apart, even when she herself had nearly burned out.
Celeste stood there for a second, unsure. Her fingers brushed the back of a cookie chair, Hughes’s lecture from the night before echoing in her head. “You were stupid.”
But beneath it, something else had been there too. Expectation. Belief. Maybe even… hope.
She looked around the sugar-lit room. The glowing map. The cookie chairs. It all looked like something out of a fairytale.
But this wasn’t a fairytale. And she didn’t feel like a main character. Not the hero. Not the leader. Just a girl who had stumbled into a nightmare and somehow kept going—through luck, grit, and sheer stubbornness.
Before she could speak, the cookie throne creaked beneath Mezzo—then promptly launched him off in a puff of sugar-dust, sending him tumbling to the floor with a startled yelp.
“Betrayed… by a chair?!” he gasped, scrambling up, frosting clinging to his fur. “You dare exile me, Lord of Licks, Sultan of Speed? Treachery! Treason! I’ll have your crumbs confiscated, your frosting revoked—”
Celeste covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, then raised one paw hesitantly. “…O-okay, maybe… um, until someone is actually worthy… we could, ah, stop fighting over furniture? And, um, maybe start planning what we do next?”
The cookie table pulsed at her words, sugar shifting, folding inward. The Clawdiff map zoomed, sectors highlighted, glowing blips appearing across the city—danger zones, possible shelters, supply caches.
The room stilled.
Ray arched a brow, unimpressed but intrigued. “Well. That’s new.”
Arcade muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “Responsive system. Keyed to… emotional resonance, most likely.”
Hughes only gave a single nod, his cane tapping the floor. A faint smile tugged under his mustache. “Looks like the house agrees.”
Celeste stared at the table, her chest tight, her breath shallow. Not a leader. Not yet.
But maybe… a planner.
Celeste leaned in, her eyes scanning the holographic candy map with intense focus. She could clearly make out the different districts of Clawdiff, but her heart sank. Everything topside was crawling with danger—the streets were painted red with warning overlays.
“This doesn’t… really show much,” she murmured, rubbing her temples. “It’d be handy if we could see survivors… or, um, the bosses.”
As if the system had been waiting for the thought, the map shimmered. Dots of green flared across the city—tiny, fragile lights.
Clusters of survivors huddled in the Industrial Sector, hiding behind sugar-rusted machinery and chocolate-steel crates. Others blinked high in the skyscrapers, whole floors dark but a few alive with peppermint-flare signals.
Celeste’s breath caught as one rooftop survivor waved their flare—only for the green dot to vanish, replaced with red.
Her claws dug into her sleeves.
At the University District, green markers moved in groups through broken dorms—then blinked out, one by one, mid-step. No warning. Just gone.
Then, at the very top of the map—hovering above Clawdiff’s candy-colored skyline—was the Giant Gumball, a translucent orb the size of a stadium perched at the apex of the dome. Inside it, flickers of movement. Survivors pacing in circles. One appeared to bang on the walls. Another crouched motionless, as if collapsed. Then, as Celeste watched, a tendril of static flickered near them—and their dot vanished.
Celeste whispered, “They’re… disappearing.”
Ray’s arms folded tight, her jaw sharp. “No. They’re being taken.”
Arcade’s fingers danced over the runes, muttering fast. “It’s not random. It’s patterned. The system’s hesitating—like it knows, but doesn’t want to show us. That means it’s being hunted.”
The map trembled, as if it agreed. Then a pale white sphere appeared at the city’s center. It pulsed and glitched, unreadable, like a dead pixel in their vision.
Mezzo leaned in, squinting. “What the hell is that? Looks like a bloody snowball someone dropped on the map.”
Celeste’s fur prickled. “Either it’s shielding something… or it’s so powerful the system can’t understand it.”
Before anyone could respond, the sewer layers lit up. A single yellow blip flickered.
Pitch.
Celeste’s eyes went wide. “He’s alive?”
Ray’s tone was low, grim. “Barely. He’s pinned down there.”
And then—red pulsed beside him.
The centipede. Mandibite.
“No, no, no…” Celeste whispered. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”
The room went silent. They’d all seen that monster tear through half a building.
Hughes broke it with his gravelled Welsh bluntness. “Well. There’s your next move.”
“Next move?!” Mezzo’s voice cracked, half-hysterical, arms thrown wide. “That thing’s a flipping nightmare! We’d need a bloody miracle, not a plan.”
“You’re right,” came a calm voice from behind.
The silver wolf stepped forward, no longer barefoot and ragged—now laced into walking boots, patched cargo pants, makeshift armor strapped neat. He carried himself like someone who’d finally decided to stand.
“But you don’t have to be the miracle,” he said evenly. His gaze fixed on Celeste. “Not alone.”
Celeste blinked at the quiet certainty in his tone. “…Me?”
“I need a word,” he said simply. “Balcony. Top level.”
Her ears flicked. “…We have a balcony?”
He allowed the faintest smirk. “We do now.” And with that, he disappeared down a hallway she hadn’t noticed before.
Behind her, Mezzo made another desperate dive for the throne—only to be ejected again in a puff of sugar, landing flat on his back with a boing.
“This chair has zero taste,” he groaned, brushing off frosting.
Celeste bit back a giggle, then turned to the others. “Um—while I’m gone, could you… maybe look into the zombie types? Update the Nommipedia, if it works?”
Ray grunted her agreement, while Arcade was already buried in schematics. “Their behavior’s evolving. I’ll log the changes. If it kills us, I’d at least like the record to be accurate.”
As Celeste slipped toward the hall, she nearly collided with Lumina—giggling as she chased Skye. The little fox darted away, tail flicking, while Lumina stopped short, suddenly shy.
Celeste knelt, smiling softly. “…Thanks, little sis. For looking after me.”
Lumina’s eyes widened, her cheeks pink. She didn’t speak, just gave a tiny nod and a real smile.
Celeste ruffled her hair before moving on, unaware that Lumina lingered behind—watching her go, a small, proud expression lighting her face.
Chapter 32 : The Fire Beneath
The balcony was breathtaking.
Arches twisted with shimmering vines of candy flowers, their petals glinting like sugar crystals in the soft morning light. The air smelled faintly of mint and caramel, and beyond the balcony rails, the artificial sky glowed a gentle peach hue, the dome above allowing hints of weather and stars to seep through. It was a strange mix of beauty and dread.
There, standing with his arms folded behind his back, was the wolf—tall, still, proud. His eyes stayed fixed on the dome’s edge, unblinking.
He didn’t turn at the sound of Celeste’s steps.
“Are you ready to learn?” His voice cut like steel—sharp, even, deliberate.
Celeste crossed her arms, trying to keep steady. “Wouldn’t—um—wouldn’t proper introductions come first?”
At that, the wolf turned. His expression was a mask—calm, unreadable. “You have to earn it.” He paused. “But I’ll ask again. Are you ready?”
Celeste shifted on her paws, tail curling nervously. “Ready for… what, exactly? A lecture? A test?” She bit her lip, then nodded, voice small. “Alright. Yes.”
The wolf moved without warning. A single step, and his paw seized her wrist—firm, not cruel—twisting just enough to jolt the shard in her arm. Her blades materialized in a shimmer of fractured light, gleaming sharp against the morning glow.
“Wait—what? You want to fight? I don’t think—”
Thud.
The blow landed fast and precise, driving into her stomach. Celeste doubled over, gasping as air fled her lungs. Her knees hit the floor.
She coughed, eyes stinging, pain radiating from her core.
The wolf didn’t follow up. He crossed his arms again, watching her with calm detachment.
“No more talking,” he said flatly. “No more hesitation. You’ve survived by chance. That won’t last.” His chin tilted faintly toward the horizon, the world outside the dome. “Out there, luck runs out fast. And when it does—you won’t get back up.”
Celeste groaned softly, bracing on her swords to pull herself upright. Her arms trembled, her breath ragged, but she managed to stand.
The wolf neither encouraged nor mocked. He simply waited.
Then: “Again.”
Celeste grit her teeth. Her stomach still throbbed, but she hauled herself upright, one paw clutching the railing. The cool, sugar-coated metal pulsed with warmth beneath her palm.
The ache in her core dulled. The sharp burn behind her eyes softened.
The cover… it heals me. Just like in games.
She turned back toward him, blades trembling in her grip. “…Didn’t you say no more talking?”
Bracer’s eyes narrowed. “I did.”
He rushed her again.
His leg swept low—faster than she could track. Her feet vanished from under her. She hit the floor with a sharp crack, pain flaring through her ribs and elbow.
This time, she didn’t waste her breath gasping. She scrambled for the railing, pulling herself up. The warmth surged again, stronger, flooding through her body.
Celeste stayed still a moment longer, watching. Really watching. The way his weight shifted before he struck, the rhythm in his movements. This wasn’t brute strength—it was a pattern.
He closed in, elbow raised.
Wait.
Instinct took hold. Celeste moved without thinking—jerking back the way he had, her own elbow raised in a mirrored guard.
Steel rang. Her blade clashed against his strike, sparks skittering across the balcony floor.
For the first time, he stepped back. His expression didn’t change much—but his tone did. “Interesting,” he murmured. “You’re learning.”
Celeste, bruised and shaking, still smiled. “You hit me enough times, I… start picking things up.”
He lunged again. Faster now. A spin. A backstep. A feint.
Celeste followed—not perfectly, not clean, but close enough. Sloppy, a beat behind, but she matched him.
He knocked her down again. She hit the railing hard. The glow flared almost instantly now, knitting pain into strength.
“You’re still slow,” Bracer said flatly. “Still clumsy.”
Celeste wiped sugar-dust from her cheek, breathing hard. “Yeah?” She straightened, eyes sparking. “Then maybe stop holding back.”
She crouched low—copying his exact stance, blade angled just as he’d shown her.
When he came at her this time, they met in a full clash. The blades screeched, sparks flying.
And this time—Celeste didn’t fall.
Sweat dripped from her brow. Her arms trembled. But something clicked. She wasn’t winning—but she wasn’t helpless anymore either.
Hours passed. The sun arced overhead, painting gold across the candy-slick balcony. Below, the others had started to gather—drawn by the clash of steel and the rhythmic thuds of combat.
Mezzo and Arcade leaned against the railing, quietly throwing bets back and forth. Ray sucked on a lollipop, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. The kids—Skye, Lumina, even Bonbon—cheered from the sidelines, clapping and shouting, their voices mixing with the sharp clang of blade-on-blade.
Celeste was barely standing now. Her body was black and blue, her face slick with blood and sweat. Bones cracked with every move. Her legs trembled. And still, she fought.
Every time she staggered back to that railing—that healing pulse of cover surged through her. Her copycat abilities learned faster, absorbed quicker. Movements that once took minutes now clicked in seconds.
But the wolf? He wasn't slowing.
His blows were getting harder, faster, crueler.
One strike sent her tumbling across the balcony. She rolled, caught herself on one arm, shoulder dislocated—but she didn’t cry out. She shoved it back into place with a grunt and stood.
The wolf didn’t speak. His movements were clean, surgical. But something burned behind his eyes—a test, perhaps. Or fear.
He launched his final move, pinning her with terrifying speed. In a flash, she was lifted from the ground, scruff gripped in his clawed hand, her back slammed into the railing.
He brought his muzzle close.
“You know, cats…” he growled, voice low and primal, “they walk the line between predator and prey. But if you corner them enough…”
His claws tightened.
“…they become something else.”
Then— Something broke inside her.
But not like before. Not a rib. Not her spirit.
It was instinct—ancient, feral, unlocked.
Her pupils slit, elongated, becoming not catlike—but something more. Draconic.
Blue flames licked at her lips, fangs elongating, her skin blazing with radiant heat. Her back arched as her entire body convulsed. Her microchip sparked, searing like molten wire—burning glyphs alive into her arms, their lines jagged, corrupted, forbidden.
The wolf's expression finally changed.
Fear.
He dropped her like she burned, stumbling back. “What… is that?”
Celeste collapsed to all fours, panting, flames erupting from her mouth. Her healing aura spiraled around her—no longer a trickle but a storm, wings of glowing data-like energy unfurling behind her like some divine alicorn born of fire and magic.
She was losing herself. The pain was gone—but so was the restraint.
Everyone below froze. Silence swept the base.
Bonbon clutched Lumina’s hand. Ray stood, lollipop forgotten. Mezzo and Arcade stopped breathing.
The wolf braced himself, voice sharp now, urgent. “This… wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He fought back anyway. Every step, every strike, every lesson in his body unleashed at once. Blades, sweeps, precision.
But Celeste—no, the thing she was becoming—was beyond reason. Beyond training.
“Celeste!” he shouted, narrowly dodging a claw of searing flame. “This isn’t you!”
But his voice was lost, buried under the roar of burning air and the crack of stone. Celeste’s corrupted glyphs pulsed with every heartbeat, her eyes glowing brighter, her aura warping into something divine and monstrous.
This… this was why the Mana Suppression Runes existed.
This was what they had been designed to suppress.
Raw power. Uncontrolled.
The others felt it. Deep in their chests, like an ancient drumbeat. One by one, their weapons shimmered back into being—not summoned, but wrenched out of them.
And then the burning began.
Their rune flared like brands. Skin seared. Each of them staggered, clutching their arms, their skulls, their hearts, as the hunger clawed at them. Rage. Power. Need.
Ray screamed, her voice cracked with fury. “Make it stop!”
Arcade hammered at his holopad, eyes wild. “Override—override, come on! C.H.I.P., suppress! Suppress!” He cursed through his teeth. “It’s not working! It’s feeding off her energy—it’s linked!”
Bonbon wailed, face buried in Lumina’s leg, hiccuping sobs shaking her tiny shoulders.
Skye knelt, grabbing her paw with trembling hands. His voice shook, but his eyes burned steady. “Bonbon… sing. Please. You have to.”
She looked up at him, wide-eyed and terrified. “W-wha?”
His ears twitched. Then his face fell. “…Right. Welsh.”
Skye hesitated, then drew a shaky breath. And softly—almost shyly—he began to hum.
“Ar lan y môr, mae'r blodau’n tyfu…”
Bonbon sniffled, uncertain.
Skye kept going. His voice trembled, but it carried. “Yn eu plith mae’r lily gwyn…”
Bonbon’s little body shook, but something in her stirred. She pushed herself up, tears still wet on her cheeks.
And then she sang.
At first, it was fragile—a broken little hum, thin as a cracked music box. But her voice rose, high and pure, trembling but growing, the kind of sound that made the monsters feel small and the night a little warmer.
“Byddech chwi’n cofio’m annwyl gariad…”
“Tra fo’i wedd yn siriol grin…”
Their voices twined together. Skye’s steady, Bonbon’s fragile but luminous.
The effect was instant.
The flames slowed. The glyphs on everyone’s skin stuttered. The burning eased.
Celeste froze mid-swing, claws alight. Her draconic eyes flicked to the sound—ears twitching, shoulders loosening.
The storm inside her… faltered.
Bonbon’s voice cracked, but she pushed through, fists clenched at her sides. Her silly beaker hat slipped over one eye. Still she sang.
Celeste’s claws lowered. The corrupted aura ebbed like a tide. Her body shook violently, then collapsed forward, gasping. Sweat poured down her fur as her eyes flickered back to blue, wide, terrified.
“…What did I do…?” she whispered, voice breaking.
The wolf limped forward, blood matting his silver fur. He wiped his mouth, his gaze fixed on her with something between awe and dread.
“…What was that?” he muttered.
Silence. No one answered.
Celeste stared at the cracked stone, the singed candy flowers, the scorched arches. Her hands trembled, still faintly glowing, and the fear in the others’ eyes haunted her more than any monster could. She turned without a word and ran—ashamed, confused, desperate to be alone.
“She didn’t know,” the wolf said quietly at last, almost to himself. “That kind of power… it’s not just magic. It’s older. Wilder. Something else entirely.”
The others stood frozen. Lumina held Bonbon close, shielding her even as the little panda clutched her back and whimpered. Ray’s fists still shook, though she tried to look hard. Even Arcade had no words.
Finally, the wolf turned to face them, shoulders squared, voice level.
“Bracer,” he said. “That’s my name.”
The kids were silent. Lumina hugged Bonbon tighter. Even Ray faltered, her sharpness blunted.
Only Skye stepped forward, his eyes soft.
“She wasn’t trying to hurt us,” he whispered. “She just… didn’t want to lose control.”
Mezzo stretched with a loud groan, trying—and failing—to play off the tension. “Well, that was grand, wasn’t it? Fire, screaming, nearly dying—top marks all ‘round! So anyway… about our little wager, Arcade. Forty quid. I bet she’d last more than five minutes, remember?”
Arcade, still pale and shaken, shot him a look over his glasses. “I don’t think we should gamble on trauma.”
Mezzo grinned, wagging a finger. “Yeah, well—trauma owes me money.”
Before he could revel in his victory, Bracer turned. His fur was singed, blood still on his lip, but his voice came low and steady.
“You’re next.”
Mezzo froze mid-pose. “…Next for what? A cookie? A nap?”
Bracer rolled his shoulder, the motion deliberate, his eyes sharp as a blade. “You’ve awakened. Speed. Power. Tomorrow, we see if you can actually control it.”
Mezzo’s smirk faltered. “Ah… y’know, I, uh—respectfully decline.”
Bracer smirked faintly. “I didn’t ask.”
Mezzo let out a theatrical groan, flopping against the half-melted railing like a dying swan. “This base is actual hell. Why couldn’t we have found, I dunno, a spa dome? Or a pizza dome?”
Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose. “You get speed powers, and you’re still the slowest learner in the room.”
Chapter 33 : Shadows Beneath the Candy Moon
The base lay hushed beneath the sugary moonlight, its glow seeping gently through the dome. Everyone had collapsed into uneasy sleep—everyone except Celeste.
Earlier, Bracer had run them ragged. One by one, he pushed each of them past their limits:
Ray, forced to temper her rage into precision strikes. Mezzo, taught to master speed without crashing into walls. Arcade, recalibrating his logic to anticipate chaos instead of control it. Even Lumina, Skye, and Bonbon had their own “sessions”—disguised as games, puzzles, duels with fairy-tale rules.
Bracer was unyielding with the older ones, but with the kids? Patient. Clever. He turned drills into play, fear into fun. For the first time in weeks, their laughter had sounded real.
And the truth was undeniable: They were becoming a team.
“Y’know…” Mezzo huffed as he jogged backward during cooldown, hands behind his head, “I hate to admit it, but all this training? Actually working. I don’t even wheeze on stairs anymore. That’s character growth, right?”
Ray smirked, cracking her knuckles. “Bracer’s brutal, yeah. But it feels damn good when I can actually land a hit on him. Just once. Right on that smug jaw.”
Arcade tugged at his hoodie, scowling. “I’m losing weight. My gloves slip, my belt’s crooked. This isn’t ideal. My outfit was mathematically optimized for both function and style. Now I look like a poorly dressed cryptid.”
“You’ve literally got a belt made of USB sticks,” Mezzo pointed out. “Tighten it, nerd.”
“I did. Three times.”
Ray leaned in, smirking. “Don’t worry, Arcade. I think you look good like that. Mad scientist chic. Budget edition.”
Arcade muttered something sharp under his breath but didn’t hide the flicker of a smile.
“I dunno,” Skye said, jogging to catch up, his tone blunt but hopeful. “I can run without blacking out now. That’s… pretty huge.”
Lumina giggled, skipping beside him. “I like the teamwork games! Even Bonbon’s getting scary with her bubble-wand bombs.”
“She called it ‘amser llawn hwyl ffrwydrol’ yesterday,” Skye added with a tilt of his head. “No clue what that means. But it sounded… important.”
Their laughter faded, replaced by something quieter.
Ray exhaled, leaning against a candy-striped pillar. “But what about Celeste?”
The mood shifted.
“She’s not… joining in,” Arcade said, pushing his glasses up. “Barely speaks. And when she does? It’s just… data. Monster patterns. Avoidance tactics. No feeling. Like she’s trying to algorithm herself out of guilt.”
“She’s scared,” Lumina whispered. Her little hands tugged at her sleeves. “Of herself.”
“She should be,” Ray said flatly. Not cruel, just tired. “That power she let out? It wasn’t magic. It was unstable. Dangerous.”
Skye looked up, his voice small but firm. “She didn’t mean to hurt anyone. She just… didn’t want to lose control.”
“Yeah.” Ray’s tone softened, just slightly. “But that doesn’t make her safe.”
The silence was heavy.
“So what—you think she’s dangerous now?” Mezzo asked, frowning. “Come on. It’s Celeste.”
Ray hesitated, eyes narrowing. “I think we need to watch her. Just in case.”
No one jumped to argue. They didn’t want to. But the memory of the balcony—the fire, the glyphs, the storm that had nearly burned them all alive—still lingered in their chests.
“She’d never hurt us,” Lumina whispered again, her voice fragile but certain.
Ray glanced away. “I hope you’re right, kid.”
The base was quiet, save for the faint hum of the cookie-table at its center. The sugar crystals pulsed softly, projecting the holographic map of Clawdiff above it.
Celeste sat slouched in one of the cookie chairs, arms wrapped around her knees, her chin buried against them. The glow of the map bathed her face in shifting light—districts, markers, sigils flickering like restless ghosts.
She’d stayed behind while the others slept. She didn’t dare join them. Not after… that.
Her claws flexed against her sleeves as the memory clawed back—heat, fire, their faces twisted in fear. Her stomach churned. She didn’t even know if she could look at them in the morning.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Please… I just… I don’t know what to do. If there’s something in here—somewhere—that can tell me what I am…”
The Nommipedia flickered at her touch, its pages of data unfolding across the air in spiraling ribbons of text. Beastiary entries, candy creature evolutions, hybrid notes. Some lines were clear. Others jittered, glitched, blurred into static like secrets the base wasn’t ready to share.
She bit her lip. “Come on, please—help me.”
The map shimmered. Slowly, green dots marking life signs began to blink. One by one, they dimmed and vanished—survivors, hybrids, even the faintest traces of sugar-zombies. Gone.
Until only one dot remained.
Celeste leaned closer, her breath fogging the holographic surface. The name above it was smeared, letters shifting like wet ink. She couldn’t make it out—couldn’t even tell if it was a name she should know.
But the marker’s location was clear.
The Library.
Her chest tightened. Of course it would be there—the one place where answers always hid.
She swallowed, her throat dry. “A library,” she murmured, voice trembling. “Books. Records. Maybe… maybe it knows something. Maybe it knows me.”
Her claws tapped nervously against the cookie chair. Every instinct screamed that it was a trap, that wandering off alone would be suicide.
But the other thought—the stronger one—whispered that maybe the answers were worth it.
She hugged her knees tighter, eyes locked on the blurred name hovering in the center of that ruined library.
“…What if that’s the only way I’ll ever know?”
Her hand lowered toward the handle—then drew back again, fingers twitching.
“Um… h-hello, Mezzo?” she began, voice just above a squeak, as if the door itself were listening. “It’s… it’s me. Celeste. I was, um… I was wondering if, well, you’d like to come with me to the library later. Not for anything fancy, or, or important, really, just—I mean, books are important, aren’t they? But it’s not important like a council thing or, oh, never mind, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”
She pressed her forehead against the door with a small groan.
“It’s just that I don’t want to go alone, and I thought maybe you’d like it too, since you like stories and music and things, and libraries have those, and I—” She caught herself, words tripping over each other. “But it’s not a date! Not at all, not that—oh stars, why did I say that out loud? I don’t mean—I mean, I do like you, just not like, not like—no, wait, I do like you as a friend i think, but not—oh crumbs.”
From inside: a snore, long and rumbling, followed by Mezzo rolling over and muttering something about “extra cheese.”
Celeste froze, cheeks burning, eyes wide.
“…You didn’t hear any of that, did you?” she whispered hopefully at the wood, hugging herself with both arms.
Silence, save for the snoring.
She let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wall, curling her tail tight around her legs.
“Right. Well. That was… practice, then,” she muttered, twisting a lock of her hair nervously. “Next time, I’ll, um… I’ll actually ask louder.”
Her hand lowered toward Mezzo's head—
—then the memories hit.
The balcony. The heat. The glyphs burning into her arms. The fire roaring out of her mouth, blue and wild. The shock in their faces—Ray’s guarded stance, Arcade’s pale terror, Skye clutching Lumina, even Bonbon hiding behind her sleeves.
The panic. The calm. The fire. The healing.
Her whole body had felt split down the middle, like warring halves tearing her apart. And then—when she’d opened her eyes—she’d seen it.
Not relief. Not trust. Fear.
Her stomach twisted. Her claws retracted, trembling against her palms.
No. She couldn’t risk it.
If it happened again—if she lost control, if she hurt them for real—what then?
She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper sugar. Her breath shook as she stepped back from him.
Inside, Mezzo stirred, half awake, about to roll over.
Celeste fumbled at her door, mumbling to herself, “Oh goodness, oh goodness, I really shouldn’t go alone, but if I don’t… if I don’t then no one will, will they? And that would be—oh, stars, just go, before you lose your nerve.”
Back in her room she came up with a silly plan.
Celeste sat at the little desk, pen scratching nervously across a scrap of paper. Gone to look. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. At least this way you know I’m alright.
She stared at the words, chewing her lip. “Alright… at least they’ll know I’m not vanished, not… eaten or anything. And I’ll be back soon, I will. I just—well, the person who might have the answers is out there, and if I don’t go, then I’ll never know, will I?”
Leaving the note propped against a cup, she crept out through the back roots of the egg-tree base. Her boots betrayed her with every step—tripping her once, twice, making her whisper sharp little “shhh!” noises at her own clumsiness as if that would silence them.
The night air clung cool to her fur, and the candy-grass gave way beneath her paws. Each crunch sounded far too loud.
But as the skyline of Clawdiff grew closer, her steps slowed. Shops that had been whole last time were shattered now. Windows jagged, walls crumbled, streets scarred.
Her heart clenched. “That wasn’t here before,” she breathed. Which meant someone—or something—else had been. Survivors. Somewhere out there.
And the hollow ache of leaving them behind was joined by a prickling spark of hope.
Chapter 34 : Ink in the Blood
Clawdiff lay draped in candy ruin, every street a sticky maze of frosting and shattered sugar-glass. Celeste moved carefully, hugging the edges of alleyways, slipping past shambling silhouettes. Most zombies she avoided—skirting their slow, syrupy claws with nervous steps.
But something else caught her eye.
Council droids.
Their chrome bodies glinted faintly under the candy-lit sky. They staggered, sparking, trying to swing useless batons against the horde. One was torn apart like foil by a licorice ghoul. Another was left twitching, its voice module stuttering in council dialects.
Celeste froze in the shadows, ears twitching. “Droids? Out here? That’s… strange. They never… they never stray from the patrols or the buildings…”
Her tail bristled. It wasn’t right. But she pushed on.
The Library loomed ahead. Once a proud hall of carved stone and spired glass, now it sagged beneath layers of caramel drizzle and collapsed sugar beams. Windows were cracked, shelves toppled, the air thick with the stale, burnt scent of something that didn’t belong.
Celeste stepped inside.
The silence was heavy. Books scattered like bones. Chairs overturned. A teddy dropped in the corner. Her chest ached as she mumbled under her breath, like a prayer: “Oh dear… oh dear, oh dear…”
She turned a corner—and gasped.
Manga.
A whole shelf, half-buried beneath melted gumdrops, still clung to life. Bright covers shone faintly in the dim light—her eyes widened, ears flicking as she squealed softly despite herself. “Oh! Oh, they’re Magigirl!”
She scrambled, tugging a few free, brushing sugar-crystals from the covers and hugging them close. She couldn’t help the little smile, or the way she slipped them carefully into her bag, her tail twitching happily for the first time in days.
But when she looked up, her eyes caught something else.
An entire section, still intact. Bold letters across the shelving: Iaith Gymraeg. Welsh Language.
Celeste’s breath caught. She stepped forward, paw tracing the spines. Dictionaries, primers, collections. Whole shelves.
“Oh, goodie,” she whispered, almost bouncing. “These will be handy—I can… I can talk to Bonbon properly, then.”
She gathered a few, clutching them to her chest. But even as she smiled, a pang of guilt struck her.
Stealing books from a library—even one rotting under sugar and ruin—felt wrong. Like a betrayal.
“I’ll bring them back,” she whispered quickly, as if to the shelves themselves. “I promise. Just borrowing. Just… just until I need them.”
Her ears drooped as she slipped them into her bag beside the manga. She cast one more nervous glance over the ruined aisles.
Whatever answers she sought, she would find them here. But she couldn’t shake the feeling—like the Library was watching her.
Celeste padded softly through the ruined aisles, her bag heavy with borrowed books. The quiet pressed in—too quiet, save for the faint creak of the candy-rotted beams above. She rounded the corner, and froze.
By the broken window, framed in pale moonlight, sat a lynx. His fur was ink-black streaked with faint silver, his ears tipped like blades. In his hands, a weather-worn history tome. He read it without urgency, turning the pages as though he already knew what they said.
Celeste’s breath caught. “Oh! Hello—you startled me. I didn’t think anyone else was here.”
He didn’t look up. The only sound was the soft flick of a page.
Celeste shifted, ears lowering. “Um… hello?”
This time he did move—just slightly. His eyes, sharp and pale, slid from the text to her face, studying her like one might study a curious insect under glass. And in that instant, recognition struck her. Her fur prickled.
The blurred name from the map. The anomaly.
The lynx held the book loosely, then let it fall shut with a hollow thump. He regarded it almost with contempt. “History,” he said, his voice smooth, quiet, and cold as still water. “It’s funny. It’s always just one perspective, isn’t it? Written by whoever wins, whoever survives.” He tilted his head, an unreadable smirk tugging at his mouth. “But what about yours? Are you an innocent bystander caught up in all this? Or something else entirely?”
Celeste’s throat tightened. She clutched the strap of her bag. “I… I just came for answers.”
“And you found me.” His voice was soft, amused, as if the inevitability of it pleased him. “How interesting.”
Her paws fidgeted against her sleeves. “Who… who are you?”
The lynx’s smile flickered, never reaching his eyes. He leaned back against the cracked windowsill, the broken glass catching in his fur like stars. “Help or hindrance…” He shrugged lazily. “It’s really up to you. But today?” He closed the book and dropped it onto the floor with a dull thud, as though it were garbage. “Today I feel like help.”
Celeste swallowed, clutching her books a little tighter. Her voice came out soft, hesitant. “Do you… do you have a name?”
The lynx tilted his head, eyes gleaming faintly in the fractured moonlight. “I am what I am. A lynx. A shadow in the corner of your story. That should be enough.”
He bent, retrieving another volume from the wreckage at his feet, and held it out to her between two claws. Its cracked spine read: Hybrid Genetics: A Study of Instability.
“The parts about second generations,” he murmured, “are fascinating. And entirely wrong. But perhaps you’d enjoy the fiction.” His pale gaze fixed on her, sharp as knives. “Still, I imagine you’re here for something more, Celeste.”
She froze, ears flicking nervously. “You… you know my name?”
The lynx smiled, faint and humorless.
Celeste fumbled, words spilling out like tangled yarn. “Well, um, I—I had this… episode, you see, with Bracer. He was training me, and it was all going so badly, I tripped, and then there was fire and light and glyphs and—well, I lost control, and everyone was frightened, and I didn’t mean to but it just—just happened—”
The lynx’s eyes glittered with amusement. “You mean this?”
He raised one claw and a shimmer of mana flickered outward.
Celeste’s body seized. Her aura ignited, blazing with unnatural fire. Pain ripped through her—sharp, searing, as if her veins had been turned to molten glass. She doubled over, clutching her sides, a strangled scream tearing free.
The lynx chuckled softly, watching her writhe.
“This is the real you,” he whispered, stepping close enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Locked away by your little rune. But the moment you lose control… it goes boom.”
“Stop!” Celeste gasped, her voice breaking. “Stop it—stop it, please!”
His laugh was quiet, unnervingly warm. And then, just as suddenly, the torment ended. The fire died, leaving her trembling, gasping for air, her fur damp with sweat.
The lynx straightened, unbothered. His tone almost gentle. “Your core, Celeste—that is the problem. And your salvation. You can run from it, deny it, bury it under duty and fear…” He tilted his head, studying her like a specimen in a jar. “…but it will find you.”
He lingered a moment longer, as though weighing whether to leave her with silence or with a seed. Then his mouth curved. “Perhaps a little clue, hm? The manalings—oh, forgive me, the mythics—they will know what lies under your skin. And don’t forget the coordinates I gave you. They will be… most helpful.”
He stepped back, fading into the shadows of the ruined shelves, his presence like smoke that clung even as it vanished.
“I think you’ve done well so far. Stronger than I expected. I think…” His smile flickered again. “We will have some fun.”
Celeste staggered, still clutching her chest, blinking through the haze.
“We’ll meet again.”
And just like that—he was gone.
Celeste spun, chest heaving, eyes still searching for the Lynx. Only black fog remained, whispering with motes of mana like fireflies lost in the dark. She chased the trail, weaving through the shelves until she burst outside.
High above, the Lynx was already perched on a rooftop. His silhouette was sharp against the moonlit dome, book in one hand, pen scratching notes with the other as if she were some specimen to be catalogued.
“H-how did you get up there so fast?” Celeste called, voice small, halfway between awe and demand.
He turned, smiling faintly. The kind of smile that said he knew exactly how much she didn’t know. Without a word, he walked away, vanishing into the shadows.
Celeste’s heart tightened. “Please—come back! I need to know why this is happening to me!” Only silence answered.
She looked down. In her hands, the book he had pressed on her earlier. A page was marked—her claws trembled as she flipped it open. The text was clinical, cold:
“Genetic Outcomes of Mythic-Pureblood Pairings. Hybrid Second Generation Breeding Viability: Speculative. Theories on Core Instability.”
She frowned. Why would he give me this? It feels… rude. And yet—relevant. Uncomfortably so.
Chapter 35 : Frosting, Fire, and Fountainfalls
The scream broke her thoughts in half.
Celeste snapped her head up just in time to see a young griffon woman sprinting around the corner. She couldn’t have been more than mid-twenties, feathers matted with sweat, goggles glowing with fading rune-ink. She wore patched steampunk gear, smoke hissing from the valves of a mana pack strapped to her chest. Her claws flared with spell runes—but the glow was sputtering, overdrawn.
Behind her thundered a colossal Glutonne—a pig-like donut zombie with frosting-oozing jaws, its massive body shaking the sugared pavement with every step. Around its hooves, a swarm of Sugar Rushers darted like rabid mice, cube-shaped bodies gnashing with crystalline teeth.
The griffon stumbled, nearly collapsing. She tried to cast again, but sparks fizzled from her talons instead of flame.
Celeste froze. Her blood turned cold.
She was alone. Too far from the others. Terrified.
But leaving this girl to die? She couldn’t.
Her claws clenched around the marked book. Her blades flickered into existence with a nervous, unsteady shimmer.
“Oh stars, oh stars—” she muttered, then forced her legs to move.
With a burst of shaky courage, Celeste charged forward.
Celeste’s blades flickered in her trembling grip as she dashed toward the chaos. Her heart thundered in her chest, her voice spilling out in shaky, breathless mutters. “Oh stars, oh stars, oh dear, this was a mistake, I’m not ready, I’m not—”
The Glutonne bellowed, frosting drooling from its circular maw. Sugar Rushers darted at Celeste’s ankles, and she squeaked, hopping sideways in sheer panic as her blade slashed through one in a lucky swing.
The griffon woman—steam hissing from her rune-worn goggles—let out a guttural shout, her accent thick and fierce. “Move, lass! If ye just stand there gapin’, ye’ll be frosting on its hooves in two seconds flat!”
Celeste yelped, nearly tripping over her own sword as she dodged another Sugar Rusher. “I’m—I’m moving! I promise, I’m very much moving—oh dear, oh dear—”
The colossal Glutonne pig thundered forward, icing dripping from its tusks like molten tar. Celeste’s knees shook, but the griffon threw herself between them and the beast, claws sparking against the cobblestones.
Kirrin, feathers scorched from overcasting, staggered but still forced another rune into the air. Fire crackled, sputtered—and fizzled. She cursed, but her eyes burned with defiance. “I’ll no’ let a bloody pastry take me down! Not while I’ve got breath left!”
The griffon grinned through her grit, yanking her goggles up just long enough for Celeste to see those sharp, determined eyes. “Kirrin,” she barked, as though it were a weapon in itself. “Name’s Kirrin. Don’t forget it, lass—if we live, ye’ll be shoutin’ it in gratitude.”
Celeste squeaked, fumbling her blade back into position. “O-oh! Right! Kirrin. Lovely to meet you, Kirrin—now please don’t die!”
“Not plannin’ on it!” Kirrin roared, slamming a shoulder into the Glutonne’s flank. “Now swing, cat-girl! Swing like ye mean it!”
Celeste squeaked again as the Glutonne swung its massive head toward them, frosting dripping like lava. She darted forward on instinct, slicing at a Sugar Rusher that lunged for Kirrin’s legs. “It's Celeste,I—I’ve got you! I mean—sort of! Please don’t die!”
Kirrin barked a laugh, wild even in the face of death. “That’s the spirit! Terrified fightin’ is still fightin’!”
The two stood side by side—one nervous, stammering, eyes wide; the other ragged but unflinching, every word sharp with fire.
The Glutonne thundered forward, frosting jaws snapping. Sugar Rushers swarmed like snapping jawbreakers at their feet.
Celeste squealed as one darted for her ankle—she swung wildly, tripping over her own tail, but the blade cut clean through it in a burst of crystalline dust. “Oh dear, oh stars, that wasn’t—ah! Another one!”
Kirrin cackled, feathers singed but eyes blazing with stubborn pride. “Ye fight like a drunk kitten, lass—but at least ye’re swingin’! Keep ‘em busy—I’ll take the hog!”
“Th-the hog?!” Celeste’s ears shot up in panic. “That’s—that’s a building with teeth!”
The Glutonne bellowed again, donut-hole chest glowing with molten sugar as it launched a sticky orb toward them.
Kirrin snarled, bracing. “Cover yer face!”
She slammed her talons together—what little rune power she had sparked into a shield of steam and grit. The candy orb splattered across it, shards of caramel hissing on the ground. The shield cracked, nearly broke—but held.
The Glutonne roared, lurching through the ruin with the weight of an avalanche. Sugar Rushers skittered ahead of it, claws scrabbling, snapping at Celeste’s heels. She braced, ribbons flaring—then a sudden crack split the air.
Kirrin’s cry was no longer just a gryphon’s shriek—it was thunder given voice.
Her feathers flared, every plume edged in a halo of static. In the next heartbeat, her form broke apart into a lance of blinding white-blue, as though lightning itself had leapt free of the sky.
She vanished—only to reappear in a blinding streak, zipping through the tide of Sugar Rushers. The bolt cut a perfect line across the battlefield. Enemies it passed through convulsed, their candy-forms searing and collapsing into molten sugar.
For a heartbeat after, the air itself sizzled. A glowing trail of sparks hung where she had gone, crackling and hissing like a scar branded onto reality. The Rushers who had been too close twitched helplessly, sugar shells splitting with the sound of caramel snapping.
Kirrin reformed in a burst of feathers and light, talons digging furrows into the ground as she wheeled around, eyes burning with stormlight.
Celeste’s mouth fell open, her voice breaking out in awe. “Kirrin… you were lightning.”
The gryphon ruffled her wings, electricity dancing along the tips. She didn’t answer with words—only a low, rolling rumble of pride, like thunder grumbling across distant hills.
Celeste peeked from behind her paws, blinking. “You—y-you stopped it! Oh, thank the stars, I thought we were—ahhh—”
Another Sugar Rusher leapt at her face. She screamed, fell backwards, and by sheer dumb luck skewered it on her blade as she hit the ground. “...I meant to do that.”
Kirrin barked a laugh, wild and unashamed. “Yer hopeless. I like ye.”
The Glutonne charged.
Kirrin roared back, goggles flashing, and leapt straight at it. She slashed glowing runes into its frosting hide, each strike carving molten steam bursts. But her spells sputtered—the runes breaking apart from overburn. She hit the ground hard, breath ragged.
The Glutonne reared up, hooves shaking the ground, ready to crush her.
Celeste’s stomach lurched. “No no no no no—”
Without thinking, she ran forward, legs trembling. She slammed both blades into the cracked cobbles. Mana surged down her arms—blue flame rippled outward, tripping the beast for a heartbeat. Just enough.
Kirrin rolled aside as the Glutonne crashed face-first into a candy-glass wall.
Breathless, Celeste stammered, “I—I don’t even know what that was—oh stars, my arms feel like pudding—”
Kirrin grinned, wild mane matted with sweat. “That was ye savin’ my hide, lass. Don’t question it—do it again!”
The Sugar Rushers regrouped, snarling cubes circling. The Glutonne began to rise, syrup dripping like lava.
Celeste gulped. Her paws shook. But she looked at Kirrin—still laughing, still defiant even as she bled—and she forced herself to lift her blades again.
Side by side, the terrified kitten and the fiery griffon stood their ground.
The Glutonne’s bulk quivered, frosting dripping from its crater-like maw as it loosed another rolling bellow. Around it, the sugar-cube mice—Sugar Rushers—skittered and hissed, their crystalline teeth clicking like glass breaking.
Celeste staggered back, twin ribbons of mana stuttering in her hands, fear and determination tangled together. Kirrin wheeled overhead, feathers catching the glow of the corrupted skyline, his shriek a command to move.
And something in her answered.
The katanas lifted, ribbons unfurling in her grip. She spun once, awkward at first, then with a sudden, rising grace. Steel and silk blurred together.
Light bloomed.
Sparkles spiraled outward as if she had torn a seam in the dark. Her blades traced a glowing circle on the air, every turn scattering comet-bright motes that drifted down like stardust. The nearest Sugar Rushers darted in—only to be sliced apart by the orbiting arcs, their candy-bodies shattering in showers of sugar shards.
The Glutonne lunged, jaws gaping—then reeled back, frosting sizzling where the radiant edge had caught its hide. Celeste’s spin slowed, her boots skidding against the caramel-slick stone, but the circle of light remained, a shimmering barrier that pulsed with her breath.
She staggered to a stop, chest heaving, eyes wide. “I—I did that?” she whispered.
Above, Kirrin banked low, the wind of her wings scattering the last of the glittering sparks. Her golden eyes narrowed with something like pride.
The battlefield stank of burnt sugar and ozone, but for one breathless moment, it was beautiful—like dancing with comets.
The donut-beast roared, syrup eyes blazing. Its hooves thundered down, shaking the candy-glass street.
Kirrin wiped blood from her beak, goggles cracked, but her grin was wide. “On three, lass!”
Celeste squeaked, blades trembling in her grip. “Th-three? What happens after three?!”
“Victory!”
They didn’t have time to argue.
The Glutonne charged again, donut-hole glowing with molten sugar.
“One!” Kirrin leapt onto a toppled lamppost, feathers flaring.
“Two!” Celeste, panicking, ran toward the monster, blades up, legs quivering.
“Three!”
Together, they struck.
Kirrin dove, carving a burning rune across the Glutonne’s frosted back. Steam hissed, blinding its eyes. At the same instant, Celeste stabbed both blades deep into the cracks from earlier, mana surging down her arms.
Blue fire met Kirrin’s rune.
The Glutonne howled, its sugary hide splitting apart in a shower of molten glaze. It staggered, lurched—then collapsed with a thunderous crash, frosting geysering into the sky.
Silence, broken only by their panting.
Then—skittering laughter.
The Sugar Rushers poured in. Dozens. Maybe more. Little cube-mice with snapping teeth, eyes glowing candy-red.
Kirrin staggered, clutching her ribs. “Bloody hell, there’s too many—”
Celeste grabbed her arm, eyes wide. “Go! I’ll hold them—please, just go!”
“I’m not leavin’ ye, lass—”
“Please!” Celeste’s voice cracked, but her grip was firm. “If you fall here, I… I can’t forgive myself. You’ve got more fight in you—so run!”
Kirrin froze, conflict blazing in her eyes. Then, with a ragged curse, she pulled back, wings snapping open. “Don’t you dare die!” she shouted, before stumbling into the sky, feathers scattering.
Celeste turned. The Sugar Rushers surrounded her, snapping, chittering, closing in. Her tail fluffed, her breath short.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…”
She spotted it—a ruined plaza fountain, still trickling with sugary water. An idea sparked.
She bolted. The swarm followed, claws scraping glassy cobbles. She leapt into the basin, blades slashing the pipes open. Jets of water gushed, soaking the Rushers as they leapt in.
The sugar-mice screeched, their bodies fizzing, dissolving into syrupy mush as the water ate away their candy shells. One by one, they popped into nothing.
Celeste, meanwhile—
Soaked.
Her fur plastered, her ears flat, tail dragging heavy like a sodden rope. She stood trembling in the waist-deep fountain, blades dripping blue fire and sugary water.
She hated every second of it.
Her face scrunched. “I’m a cat. I hate water.”
The last Sugar Rusher hissed, popped, and was gone.
Celeste was alone, dripping, shivering in the ruined fountain. Trapped in the one element she loathed most, but alive.
Celeste clambered up the slick fountain rim, claws scrabbling against the wet candy-stone. “Okay—hah—easy does it—don’t slip, don’t slip, don’t—oh stars, that’s a lot of them—”
Below her, the Sugar Rushers hissed as the water chewed through their bodies. One by one they fizzed into syrup—but then, horrifyingly, the survivors began to climb. Their cube claws dug into the cracked stone, stacking on top of each other like rabid building blocks.
Celeste’s pupils shrank. “Oh no. Oh nonono. You’re not supposed to learn! Stop that! Stop being clever mice!”
She swung her blade wildly, slicing a few off the wall, but more scrambled higher, their glowing eyes snapping up at her ankles. Her tail lashed like a whip as she tried to keep her balance.
Then— CRACK.
The fountain’s base groaned. The waterlogged stone gave way, sugar veins snapping beneath her paws.
With a shriek, she plummeted, fountain shards and squealing Sugar Rushers tumbling with her into a gaping shaft of darkness. Water splashed around her as she fell, her blades flickering out mid-panic.
Her scream echoed off the dripping walls until it was swallowed by the abyss below.
Chapter 36 : The Seal and the Storm
The cookie-room table glowed faintly with the spinning sugar-map, but the mood in the room was heavy.
Bracer leaned over the edge, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the flickering glyphs. His silence carried weight.
Behind him, Mezzo noisily unwrapped a sandwich bigger than his head—stacked with jelly, marshmallow fluff, and who-knows-what else. He took a dramatic bite, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, then noticed everyone staring. “…What? Stress eating builds morale,” he mumbled around the bread.
Ray groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”
Hughes ignored him, cane tapping once against the floor. “Bracer. I’ve trained squads before. Seen recruits snap, seen ‘em crack. What happened with Celeste wasn’t on you. Standard pressure test, that’s all.”
Bracer’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t standard.” His gaze flicked toward the ceiling, as if replaying the balcony fight in his head. “I meant to corner her. To draw out the feral. Cats, when pushed, they bare their claws. I thought it might remind her she’s not as soft as she thinks.”
He exhaled sharply. “But what I saw… that wasn’t feline instinct. The aura, the fire—it looked draconic. Alpha-dragon, even.”
Arcade, who had been tinkering with a gear-spanner at the table’s edge, froze. The tool slipped from his fingers and clattered loudly against the sugar tiles. He stared. “You’re saying… she’s unstable? That she could break at any second?”
Bracer shook his head. “Not unstable. Contained.” His tone was grim, deliberate. “That rune she carries—it isn’t a leash. It’s a seal. And what it’s holding back might be worse than any of us realized.”
Hughes’ brows furrowed. “And you’re certain you saw alicorn traits too? That glow…?”
Bracer nodded once. “Dragon strength. Alicorn light. In the same body. That shouldn’t be possible. No hybrid’s ever carried two cores like that.”
The cookie-room went quiet. Even Mezzo set his half-finished sandwich down, his smirk gone.
For the first time, none of them knew what to say.
The sugar-map pulsed faintly, showing the dome’s districts in jagged, glitching light.
Ray cracked her knuckles. “Fine. I’ll check on her. She’s probably sulking in the marshmallow beanbags again.” She shoved her hammer onto her shoulder and stormed out.
The others lingered, the silence heavy.
Arcade adjusted his lenses, tone clipped. “If that rune really is a seal, then removing it wouldn’t just be risky—it’d be catastrophic. We’re talking full meltdown. Unstable core, uncontrolled output, systemic failure—boom.”
Bracer’s claws flexed at his sides. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t speculate.” He looked away, jaw tight. “Truth is… I wouldn’t want to think about what comes out if that seal breaks.”
Hughes leaned heavily on his cane, his voice gravelly but steady. “In Brecon, dragons used to have rites of passage. Ritual hunts, flame trials, meditation in the caverns under the mountain. Ways to temper the fire in their blood.” He shook his head. “But we can’t get there. Not with the dome sealing us in.”
Bracer grunted. “Unicorns and pegasi have similar rites. Harmony rituals. Blessing circles. It’s… cultural. Instinctual.”
Before he could continue, Ray stormed back in. Her hammer scraped against the wall as she shoved the door open.
“She’s gone.”
Everyone froze.
Ray tossed a crumpled note onto the cookie table. “Left this.”
Hughes snatched it up, squinting. His ears flicked. “…That explains it.”
Arcade blinked. “Explains what?”
Hughes tapped the note with a claw. “I wondered why I couldn’t summon my crook this morning. Felt off. Should’ve known—she’d already slipped.”
He zoomed in on the sewer network. His fingers trembled against the glowing runes. Then his eyes narrowed.
“Wait… is that—?”
The tracker pulsed softly on the map.
Celeste.
In the sewers.
Surrounded.
Mezzo’s half-eaten sandwich slid off the table and smacked the floor with a wet thud.
“Is that girl suicidal or stupid?” Hughes barked.
Before anyone could answer, Mezzo blurred across the room, skidding to a stop in a puff of candied wind. He perched casually on the back of a chair, arms folded.
“Could be a third option,” he said dryly. Then his smirk faltered. “Or both.”
Arcade shot up so fast his chair toppled backward. His voice cracked. “This isn’t a joke, Mezzo! Look at this—she’s knee-deep in the tunnels and there’s hundreds of signals! That wasn’t even on the last scan. Something’s changed.”
“Yeah,” Mezzo muttered, his usual humor gone. “She changed.”
Arcade’s hands blurred across the console. The sugar-map flared bright, expanding until the entire sewer network was visible. Red pulses swarmed like ants.
“Emergency meeting. Now.”
Chimes blared—arcade sirens cobbled together into a harsh alarm.
Doors down the hall slammed open as the rest of the gang rushed in. Lumina stumbled in first, hair mussed, eyes wide but alert, with Skye close on her heels. Bonbon toddled after them, clutching her mask.
Ray was already leaning against the wall, her lollipop clenched between her teeth like a cigar. Hughes tightened his grip on his cane. Even Bracer lifted an eyebrow as he strode in, ears pricked.
Arcade didn’t waste time. He stabbed a claw at the glowing red swarm.
“She’s down there alone,” he said, voice sharp. “And if we don’t act fast—”
He looked at each of them in turn.
“—we lose her.”
The sugar-map spun wildly, red dots swarming like angry hornets in the sewer tunnels.
Ray jabbed a finger at it. “This is suicide. You’ve seen the numbers. She’s surrounded six ways from Sunday—there’s no pulling her out of that mess without half of us ending up dead.”
“Then what?” Arcade snapped, his tone brittle. “Leave her? We can’t survive without her, Ray—you know it. Every one of our weapons, our powers—they’re tied to her resonance. Without Celeste, we’re just civilians with bad attitudes.”
Mezzo slammed his paw against the table, sandwich crumbs scattering like confetti. “I say we go. We’re already knee-deep in this sugar nightmare. If she’s down there, then so are we. Simple as that.”
“Simple?” Ray growled. “Simple is getting eaten alive by a mob of candy freaks because someone thought heroics sounded fun.”
Skye, quiet until now, spoke up bluntly. “If she dies, we all die. Mathematically. So… we should go.”
Ray blinked at him. “…That’s the creepiest logic I’ve ever heard, but you’re not wrong.”
Lumina tugged at her sleeve, voice small but firm. “She wouldn’t leave us behind. So… we shouldn’t leave her.”
Silence hung. Even Ray couldn’t argue with that.
Finally, Hughes tapped his cane against the floor, sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Enough jawin’. The choice is made already. You lot know it.”
All eyes shifted to Bracer, standing a step back, arms folded. His expression was unreadable—stone, but shadowed.
“I’ll stay,” he said flatly.
“What?” Mezzo frowned. “No, no, no—you’re the only one here who actually knows what he’s doing!”
“And she knows that too,” Bracer replied evenly. His voice held no anger, only certainty. “After what happened the other day, if she sees me first, she’ll shut down—or worse. She won’t trust it. She needs to see you, not me.”
He leaned forward, claws tapping the glowing runes. “I’ll run point from here. Track the signals. Call out enemy clusters. Keep Bonbon safe.”
As if on cue, Bonbon waddled in with her bunny mask slightly crooked, clutching it like a shield. She blinked up at them, sensing the heavy mood.
Bracer’s voice softened just slightly. “Someone has to stay with her. That, I can do.”
Arcade glanced at him, reluctant but acknowledging the logic. “Fine. But if your updates lag even a second—”
“They won’t,” Bracer cut him off.
Ray adjusted her hammer with a sigh, chewing her lollipop like it was a nail. “Great. Sewer crawl with a death wish. Just what I wanted.”
Mezzo slapped his axe onto his shoulder and cracked a grin. “You love it.”
“I hate it.”
“Same thing.”
Arcade shook his head, muttering. “This is going to get us all killed…”
But as the map pulsed with red, he was already stuffing gadgets into his bag.
Bracer looked at each of them, his voice dropping low, steady. “Then go. Get her back. Don’t make me tell Bonbon she lost her sitter.”
The cookie table hummed as the sewer map zoomed in, red pulses writhing like veins.
Their mission was set.
Chapter 37 : Shadows in the Sewers
Deep in the sewers…
Celeste groaned as she pushed herself up, drenched and covered in grime. The fall had left her bruised, but nothing broken—at least nothing new. Her clothes were torn, singed in places, and her hands scraped raw from the fountain collapse.
She winced as she activated her aura. A soft, pale glow emitted from her skin, casting long shadows across the damp stone walls like flickering ghosts.
The light barely reached more than a few feet ahead, but it was enough to see that she was truly alone.
The sewer stretched into winding tunnels, walls slick with condensation, the air thick with the stench of rot and mold. Ripped posters clung to broken tiles. Mounds of garbage and soggy, forgotten plushies lined the edges of the tunnel like failed offerings. Every drop of water echoed too loud. Every gust of wind whispered too close.
There were no zombies. No creatures. Just the silence.
And yet, it was worse than being chased. Because she didn’t trust the silence.
Her footsteps splashed softly as she walked, echoing back at her like someone was following. Her glow reflected in puddles of sticky, iridescent water—her own warped expression staring back. For a moment, she almost didn’t recognize herself.
No map. No plan. No backup.
Celeste gritted her teeth. “Well... this is new.”
She paused at a wall covered in graffiti—some of it old and flaking, but some disturbingly fresh. Painted in sticky neon syrup was a smiley face… with too many teeth.
She backed away slowly.
Then she noticed something else—claw marks. Long. Jagged. Not made by Sugar Rushers.
Whatever was down here… it wasn’t gone. It was watching.
The sounds of the sewer intensified—tiny, wet clicking noises echoing through the tunnels. Celeste froze. It wasn’t rats.
No, it was worse.
Sugar Rushers Hundreds of them. Suckling on the walls, writhing in corners, their tiny legs scratching against stone.
She didn’t dare shine her glow too far ahead. Some part of her didn’t want to see what made those sounds.
Then she saw it.
A long shadow—too long to belong to anything natural—slithered across the wall. Chitin scraped against tile. A low, skittering rumble hummed through the air like distant thunder.
The Centerpied.
She could see its jagged silhouette at the far end of the corridor—massive, grotesque, and impossibly fast, even in stillness. Its antennae twitched.
Celeste’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped backward, slowly at first—one step, two—and then turned to walk faster. Quiet. Careful not to splash.
But the shadow followed. Closer. Closer.
A cold spike of panic bloomed in her chest. She turned a corner only to see the way forward blocked by a collapsed pipe and a pool of syrupy sewage.
Trapped.
She spun back—and her glow caught the movement of the Centerpied’s body, weaving toward her with horrifying grace.
Just as her legs locked in fear and she thought, This is it, a rough arm yanked her backward into a pitch-black side corridor.
A hand clamped tightly over her mouth, muffling her startled cry
Her glow dimmed.
Silence.
The creature passed by. The sickening scrape of its body faded into the distance.
After a long moment, the hand loosened, and a voice—gravelly and low—whispered in her ear:
“Still getting yourself into trouble, huh?”
She turned, blinking in the dim light.
It was Pitch.
Alive—barely. His coat was torn, his face pale, covered in dust and blood. But he was smiling, that same half-cocked grin like nothing had changed.
“You look like hell,” he muttered, pulling her deeper into the corridor.
Celeste exhaled, unsure if she wanted to punch him or hug him.
Celeste’s voice cracked out of her like a startled mewl. “P-Pitch? Oh goodness, I thought—I thought you were—” She flailed her hands uselessly in the dark, then clutched them together. “I mean, you are bleeding and you look absolutely dreadful, oh dear, but you’re alive!”
Pitch leaned back against the wall, coughing once into his sleeve. His grin was crooked, half-exhausted but still defiant. “Alive’s a strong word, cupcake. More like… stubborn. Can’t kill sarcasm that easy.”
Celeste blinked at him, tail bristling. “Cupcake? That’s—! I’m not a—oh stars, I nearly screamed back there and got us both eaten.”
“Yeah,” Pitch said flatly, tugging her gently farther from the tunnel mouth. “That would’ve been bad. Y’know, worse than usual.”
Celeste fidgeted, her glow flickering nervously against the damp walls. “I—I didn’t mean to wander down here. It was supposed to be… oh, never mind. Everything is very, very terrible, and now there’s… centipedes.” She shivered. “Big ones. Very big. Bigger than they should be. That’s not right.”
Pitch gave a raspy chuckle. “Kid, nothin’ down here’s right. But hey—welcome to my new digs. Real cozy. Mold, blood, and sugar mice that wanna chew my toes off.”
“That’s not cozy!” Celeste squeaked, her voice bouncing off the tunnel. She slapped her hands over her mouth, then whispered frantically: “Sorry—sorry—I’ll be quiet!”
Pitch just shook his head, amused despite himself. “Still a mess, huh? Cute, but a mess.” His grin softened for a flicker. “But you being here? Guess I ain’t hallucinating after all.”
Celeste bit her lip, her nerves buzzing with a hundred questions. “But… how did you even—? No, no, first: are you alright? Because you’re limping and bleeding and, oh, I don’t know, maybe dying quietly in the dark? Because you sound like you’re dying quietly in the dark.”
Pitch winked through the dim. “Relax. Takes more than this sewer nightmare to put me down.”
Celeste’s ears drooped. She didn’t look convinced.
Celeste tip-toed after him, ears flat, her glow dimmed to a nervous flicker. “Wh-where are we going? Because it feels very oh-dear-we-might-die right now—”
“Relax,” Pitch muttered, voice low but steady. “I’ve been helping survivors hole up down here. Figured you oughta know before you freak out completely.”
Celeste blinked. “Survivors? But I thought—oh stars—I thought it was just us and the zombies. There are people down here?”
“Were,” Pitch corrected grimly. “Hundreds, at first. But the candy freaks are rounding ’em up. Taking ’em to the gumball in the sky.”
Celeste froze, her breath catching. “The… the giant gumball? The one on the map? They’re taking people there?”
“Yeah,” Pitch said, jaw tight. “About twenty of us left now. I’ve been running interference—keeping the Centerpied busy, drawing him off when I can. Buyin’ them time.”
Celeste’s mouth opened, closed. “That’s… that’s so brave. I thought you wanted to leave Clawdiff, not—”
“I tried,” Pitch cut in, shaking his head. “Every path’s blocked. Even the tunnels. Barrier runs underground. Anything living slams right into it.”
Celeste’s brow furrowed, her words spilling out fast. “S-so—if living things can’t… then dead things can? Or—or water, or air?”
Pitch gave her a sharp look, half-impressed. “Looks that way. Strange as hell.”
Before Celeste could say more, Pitch’s ears twitched. In one fluid motion, he shoved her against the wall and pressed a finger to her lips.
“Shhh.”
The air grew heavy. A stench of sugar rot. Then—SKRRAAAAAPE.
The Centerpied slithered past, its grotesque body twisting down the tunnel. Segmented chitin scraped stone, syrup dripping from its jaws. Its antennae flicked, searching.
Celeste shook like a leaf, her claws digging into the stone. Her whole body screamed to run, but Pitch’s hand held her steady. She barely dared breathe.
The monster slid by, massive and silent, vanishing into the dark.
Only then did Pitch release her, muttering, “Don’t faint on me now.”
He crouched, shoved aside a rusted, fake panel. Behind it, a narrow tunnel glowed faintly with lamplight, voices murmuring in the dark.
“Our hideout,” he said. “Get in.”
Celeste stared at him, wide-eyed, then ducked inside.
The hideout smelled of damp stone and old circuitry. Rusted lockers lined the walls, doors bent from age and pried locks. Tables had been dragged together to make makeshift bunks, their surfaces cluttered with salvaged supplies: half-burned candles, dented water flasks, and scraps of chocolate-steel. Survivors huddled close—mythics, purebloods, hybrids alike—faces pale, clothes tattered, but eyes sharp with the stubborn gleam of people still holding on.
Among them, a tan-furred mouse with long brown hair kept pacing near the lockers. Her hands fluttered nervously, pausing now and then to adjust her glasses or brush her nose. Her voice carried softly as she fussed with a bundle of papers, speaking to no one in particular.
Celeste froze, her breath catching. “...Carys?”
The mouse blinked, turned—and her whole face lit up. “Celeste!” she gasped, rushing forward. She wrapped Celeste in a warm but slightly awkward hug, words tumbling in quick bursts. “I can’t believe it—it’s really you! The last time I saw you, you were dashing off to the train station—you said you were picking up your sister, wasn’t it? To go to that comic convention?”
Celeste’s ears drooped slightly. She gave a nervous half-smile. “Ah—yes. Oh, stars, the convention—it was a disaster. It all… it all turned into the invasion. Zombies everywhere.”
Carys’s hands fluttered at her sides, eyes wide. “Good heavens, how dreadful! And—oh! Wasn’t Melody there too? She hadn’t come back to the dorm, we… we thought she must’ve gone with you?”
Celeste hesitated, her tail curling tight around her ankles. Her voice was soft, almost breaking. “She was. But… she didn’t make it.”
Carys’s paws flew to her mouth. “Oh—oh no. Not Melody.” Her voice shook, but her eyes glistened with memory. “She was the loudest of us—the one who sang in the hallways and laughed at her own jokes. The dorm won’t… it won’t be the same without her.”
Celeste swallowed hard, guilt knotting in her chest. She wanted to say I should’ve saved her, but the words tangled in her throat.
Instead, she just nodded—small, fragile.
Pitch straightened his coat, wincing faintly as he stepped to the center of the dim room. Survivors quieted—not out of respect, but because his presence usually meant news. He jerked his head toward Celeste.
“Right. Listen up,” he said, voice gravelly but steady. “This is Celeste. She’s a friend. She’s a hybrid—and stable—so don’t give her any grief.”
He leaned briefly on the table stacked with empty ration tins. “I’m going to check the tunnels, make sure the coast is clear. I’ll be back before the candles burn down.”
Then, with a half-smirk at Celeste—an unspoken hang in there—he slipped out, the metal door groaning shut behind him.
For a few heartbeats, silence. Only the drip-drip of condensation and the shuffle of tired bodies.
Then the looks began.
A pair of mythic teenagers, fox and badger, stared openly—eyes sharp, distrustful. A pureblood woman near the back whispered into her scarf, not taking her gaze off Celeste. Even a horned hybrid by the lockers narrowed his eyes, tail flicking uneasily.
Celeste felt the weight of it all pressing against her fur, ears lowering. Her aura, faint and nervous, shimmered at her fingertips—betraying her discomfort.
Carys touched her arm quickly, trying to soften the edges of the moment. “Don’t mind them,” she said, voice gentle but rushed. “It’s just… things have been hard. Trust is in short supply these days.”
But even as she spoke, more eyes fixed on Celeste, whispers beginning to rise.
She wasn’t just a stranger to them. She was a hybrid—and after everything that had happened, that was enough to make her dangerous in their eyes.
Chapter 38 : Glow in the Dark
Celeste stood stiffly in the center of the room, hands folded in front of her like a schoolgirl called to the front of class. The eyes boring into her only made her tail twitch more.
Carys, sensing the weight of it, stepped forward, her nervous fingers brushing her nose. “So, um—how have you been holding out, then?”
Celeste blinked, then smiled too quickly. “Oh! Oh, um, great—wonderful, really. I mean, not wonderful because, you know, zombies and syrup and everything melting all the time, but—um—I made some new friends. We’ve got this secret base in the park. Which, er, sounds much better than it is. Less secret fortress, more… well… egg.”
Carys let out a small laugh, her voice carrying that warm, slightly breathless quality of hers. “That actually sounds rather delightful.” She sighed, rubbing her arms. “I just… I really want to get back to the university soon. All my things are still there—my books, my notes, my sketches. Everything.”
Celeste’s ears drooped. “Same. I keep thinking about my sketchbooks. My plushies. They’re probably all soggy now.”
Carys’s nose twitched again as her voice lowered. “I couldn’t even get there. When that… noise happened.”
Celeste tilted her head. “Noise?”
“The… the strange pulse,” Carys clarified, shivering slightly at the memory. “It shook everything. And then this… dragon—a huge red dragon—burst out of the ground. And the monsters came with it.”
Celeste froze. “…The pulse.”
“Yes,” Carys said quickly. “And then the military arrived. They tried some kind of… mana bomb, I think? But it missed. Hit their own men instead.” Her voice faltered. “After that, it was just ten warriors against the dragon. Just ten.”
Carys nodded, her voice hushed but animated. “One of them… oh, I’ll never forget it. A ragdoll cat. With this massive sword.” She mimed the length with her hands. “It shimmered like fire, but blue. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Celeste’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her throat went dry. “…Was it… an odachi? With—blue flames?”
“Yes! Yes, of course—that was it exactly!”
Celeste surged forward, grabbing Carys by the shoulders, eyes wide, nearly shouting. “What happened to him?! Did he die—did he go somewhere—what happened?!”
Carys flinched, tears springing as she stammered, “I—I don’t know! That dragon—the white one—it picked him up, and the others who were still alive. They were carried outside Clawdiff, and then… then the barrier appeared. And the fighting stopped.” Her lip trembled. “That’s all I know. Why? Was he—was he someone you know?”
Celeste’s grip loosened. She looked down, her breath uneven, her expression shifting between thoughtfulness and a storm of something Carys couldn’t read—fear? Anger? Longing?
Finally, Celeste whispered, almost to herself:
“I think… that was my dad.”
From the far side of the room, a sharp scoff broke the fragile hush.
A pureblood penguin, his feathers slicked back and his vest far too polished for the sewers, folded his flippers with smug precision. “Couldn’t be,” he muttered, voice nasal. “You’re a hybrid. Hybrids don’t lead military units. They haven’t earned the right.”
Celeste stiffened, ears dipping back. “I—”
Before she could say more, Carys stepped in, her tail flicking indignantly. “Oh, mind your own business, Gordon,” she said, her polite voice rising like a schoolteacher snapping at a rowdy student.
But Gordon leaned forward, smirk curling. “No, no, if what she says is the truth, then she ought to have the paperwork to prove it. A pedigree.” He pulled something from his satchel with a theatrical flourish—a laminated scroll with golden trim. “Lovely, isn’t it? Complete lineage, fully registered. Even comes with marriage and breeding rights, sanctioned by the Council.” He wagged it like a trophy. “Do you have one, girl? I doubt it.”
Celeste’s cheeks burned. Her eyes dropped to the floor, hands tightening against her sleeves. The shame twisted in her chest before she could stop it.
But Carys’s nose twitched furiously. “Honestly, Gordon, do you ever hear yourself?” she said, flustered but sharp. “Waving your laminated… mating license about in mixed company—how utterly embarrassing. I think half the room just lost their appetite.”
A few stifled laughs escaped the survivors. Gordon’s beak snapped open, sputtering. “It is not—this is a mark of legacy! Of legitimacy! Of—”
“No one cares who your great-grand-aunt was married to,” Carys interrupted sweetly, smoothing her hair. “And I do mean no one.” She turned to Celeste with a softer smile. “Don’t let him get under your skin. He’s just jealous he doesn’t have half your courage.”
Celeste forced a small smile, but the sting remained. Her heart ached with a quiet longing she couldn’t voice here—not when the eyes of the room still weighed on her.
She did want a family someday. To marry, to have children. But the Council would never make it simple. For a hybrid like her, they’d build hoops so high she could never jump them all.
And Gordon’s smug words made her feel it more than ever.
The door slammed open, nearly ripped off its hinges. Pitch stumbled through, panting, blood spattered across his jacket.
“Change of plans—we need to move!” he barked, reaching for the latch again—
—but it was already too late.
Sugar Rushers, dozens of them, poured through the cracks in the door and broken vents like a living tide of snapping teeth and jittering claws. Their tiny voices chattered like a broken music box.
Pitch yanked out a knife, slashing furiously—but the blade barely slowed them. “Damn it—too small, too fast!”
Celeste’s heart spiked. She surged forward on instinct, aura blazing. Her hands shook as the twin katanas burst into light—summoned in a shimmer of fractured glyphs. With a panicked cry, she swept them wide, slicing through the first wave. Candy-blood sprayed the walls as the swarm shrieked.
Then it happened.
A light—brilliant, burning—reacted in her chest. Her core pulsed once, twice, then flared. The energy leapt outward, a tether of heat and memory snapping into place.
Pitch staggered, his claws clenching as a glow surged into his arms. And then—crack!—a weapon appeared. A long, double-barreled shotgun, its frame etched with spade and heart symbols, humming with shadowed mana.
Pitch froze. His breath hitched. “...Lady Luck,” he whispered, voice raw. His hands trembled as he held it, reverent, like it was a relic pulled from the grave. “You’re back. I thought I’d never see you again.”
The room held its breath as he fired—BOOM!—and two Sugar Rushers exploded into syrupy chunks. Celeste darted beside him, blades flashing, finishing the rest. Together, in rhythm, they cleared the last of the swarm.
The silence after was deafening.
Celeste panted, eyes darting between the glowing shotgun and Pitch’s stunned face. She swallowed hard. “I—I think… for some reason… you need to be close to me. For it to work.”
Pitch lowered the gun, staring at her with wide eyes, then let out a humorless laugh. “Makes sense. After I left you… I could never summon them again.”
The final Sugar Rusher squealed, then went limp under his boot. The fight was over.
Then came the gasps.
The survivors—all of them—stared at Celeste. At her swords, still shimmering faintly. At the glow in her chest. At Pitch’s weapon reborn in her presence.
Dozens of eyes. Suspicion. Fear. Awe.
Celeste shifted on her paws, her ears flattening, her tail curling tight against her leg. She forced a nervous little laugh, voice trembling.
“Um… s-sorry…?”
The room was thick with silence after the last Sugar Rusher fell. Then the whispers began.
Pureblood voices, sharp and frightened:
“They just conjured weapons—out of nothing—” “Hybrids aren’t supposed to—” “Dangerous. It’s dangerous.”
Some scrambled toward the walls, others clutched at each other like Celeste’s glow might burn them if they stayed too close.
One survivor—a young mythic, a blue-scaled dragon with shaggy blonde hair—stepped forward, his claws fidgeting. His voice was curious rather than cruel. “How did you… do that? Weapons like that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Celeste’s ears drooped. She shifted from foot to foot, tail curled tight. “Oh, um, well—I-I don’t really know. I just sort of… figured out I could, I suppose? By accident.”
Pitch leaned on Lady Luck, scanning the crowd. He looked tired but proud.
That’s when a heavy voice cut in.
The turtle. Stocky, grey-shelled, eyes sharp with disdain. His name was Ted, and every word he spoke dripped with authority he didn’t deserve.
“Abominations,” he spat. “That’s what you are. The Council would never allow unsanctioned magic. Those rules exist for a reason.”
Pitch growled, stepping forward. “Knock it off, Ted. It’s the apocalypse. Rules don’t mean a damn thing anymore. Survival does. And if survival means we use mana? Then we use mana.”
Ted rose to his full, lumbering height, chin raised as if he were back in some council chamber instead of a half-broken sewer. “Survival without order is just chaos. I won’t stand by and watch unstable hybrids play god. I’m not staying here. Anyone with sense will leave with me.”
He marched toward the door.
Half the room followed. Purebloods clutching their belongings, muttering about curses, corruption, contamination. The sound of footsteps echoed until the door slammed behind them, the crowd split in two.
Pitch cursed under his breath, eyes narrowing. “Idiots. They’ll get themselves killed—or worse, taken.”
But they didn’t listen.
And in the middle of it all, Celeste stood frozen, the glow in her chest dimming, shame weighing her down like lead.
Chapter 39 : Into the Sugar Trap
The red car, still scuffed and cracked from their last escape, barreled through the remains of Clawdiff’s city center. Peppermint signs were snapped, lamp posts melted, rubble spilling across every road like the city had been chewed up and spat out.
Inside, the emergency team was tense.
Mezzo bounced in the passenger seat, drumming a wild beat against the dash so fast it rattled. “Feels like a bloody rally race! I vote I get to yell ‘drift!’ every corner!”
“Don’t you dare,” Ray muttered, swerving past a toppled jawbreaker cart.
Arcade, hunched in the back with a tangle of wires, flicked his cracked tablet around for everyone to see. A faint dot blinked—Celeste’s signal. Weak. Alive. “She dropped through here,” he said crisply, tapping the screen. “Sewer access. Straight fall. Brilliant place for a holiday.”
Ray gave a dry laugh. “Perfect. Sewers. Five stars on the brochure.”
“Could be worse,” Mezzo piped up cheerfully. “Could be Monday.”
“Every day’s Monday with you,” Ray shot back.
Arcade ignored them, fingers swiping faster. “Signal’s flickering. Translation: she’s still moving. Still breathing.”
“She’d better be,” Ray growled, grip tightening on the wheel. “She still owes me for turning my jacket pink.”
Mezzo leaned back with a smirk. “C’mon, she’ll be fine. Princess didn’t mean to wash your clothes with a different colour. probably replaced them herself. You know how she is. Besides, she seems to be the only one who does it—maybe it’s a good idea for us to chip in more.”
He glanced between them, a rare softness flashing in his eyes. “You think it’s funny how she snorts when she laughs? Like—she tries to hide it, but it’s there. She’s not that perfect.”
Ray side-eyed him, suspicion sharp. “You’re deflecting.”
“Maybe.” Mezzo leaned back, smirk returning.
Mezzo twisted round in his seat, grinning. “Speaking of busted things, is this the part where I get to test the candy grenade launcher?”
“No,” Ray and Arcade snapped in unison.
“It’s literally what it was made for!” Mezzo cried. “Bracer installed it special!”
“Next you’ll be asking for chocolate dynamite,” Ray muttered.
Mezzo cackled. “Oh my gods, yes! Chocolate bloody dynamite! Arcade, write that down.”
Arcade pinched the bridge of his snout. “You are the reason civilisation collapsed.”
From the back row, Hughes cleared his throat, his voice gravelly and sure. “Less chatter, more focus. We’re running into the belly of the beast, not a sweet shop. Treat it that way.”
Lumina, perched beside Skye, hummed nervously and tugged on her sleeves. “I want Celly safe,” she whispered, voice small but firm. “She’s not allowed to die.”
“She’s not going to,” Hughes said firmly, not taking his eyes off the breach marker. “Not on my watch.”
A silence fell—only Skye’s voice broke it, soft but certain. “There’s movement. Underground. Not rats.”
Everyone glanced at him.
Arcade adjusted his glasses, tone clipped. “He’s right. Velocity’s wrong. Size’s wrong. Definitely not friendly.”
Ray’s jaw clenched. “Figures.”
The car screeched to a halt at the breach—a jagged sinkhole framed by the shattered stone of the old fountain. The dark below swallowed the moonlight whole.
Ray cut the engine, hammer resting across her lap. “This is it.”
Mezzo cracked his knuckles with a wild grin. “Alright, lads, let’s make it theatrical—”
Ray spun on him, eyes sharp. “No stunts. No jokes. We go in fast, stay low, and get her out. Got it?”
Skye tugged his satchel open, ears twitching. His words came flat but blunt. “Bracer’s listening on comms. If we scream… he’ll know.”
Ray snorted. “If we scream, we’re already screwed.”
“Eh,” Mezzo said, rolling his shoulders with a grin. “Screaming’s my specialty.”
A silence settled as they approached the hole.
Then—deep below—something massive shifted. The ground trembled.
Together, they began their descent into the dark.
One by one, the group eased down the rope into the sinkhole, their boots crunching against damp stone. The sewer reeked of sugar rot and mold, the air thick enough to choke.
Mezzo landed last, his paw brushing something half-buried in syrup muck. He bent down, fished it up, and held it aloft—a tiny charm shaped like a star with an angel wing, scuffed but still glittering faintly.
He whistled. “Well, lads… no doubt about it. Our walking sparkle disaster was definitely here.”
Ray rolled her eyes but kept her hammer ready. “If she left a breadcrumb trail of glitter, I swear—”
Skye’s ears twitched. His voice came quiet, blunt. “She’s fine. Plot armor.”
Arcade looked up from his scanner, one brow arched. “Plot armor?”
Skye nodded, matter-of-fact. “Main character energy. Statistically unkillable.”
Mezzo barked a laugh, clapping Skye’s shoulder. “Finally! Someone else says it!”
“Don’t get cocky,” Hughes cut in, his Welsh tone low and stern. His cane tapped against the wet stone as he scanned the shadows. “If she’s alive, it’s not luck. It’s stubbornness. And down here, that’ll only get you so far. Keep sharp.”
The group moved, splashes echoing in the narrow tunnels. The silence pressed tight.
Then— A scream. Sharp. Echoing through the pipes.
And then… silence.
Arcade’s ears flattened. He frowned at the scanner. “That wasn’t good. Think it was her?”
Mezzo shook his head immediately. “Nah. Not enough awkward apologising and stammering. If it was Celeste, we’d hear, ‘Oh stars, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream, it’s just I thought—oh no, oh no—’”
Ray snorted, almost smiling despite the tension. “He’s not wrong.”
“Look,” Lumina piped up suddenly, pointing with her small paw. Her wide eyes glowed in the dim light. “There! A door!”
Up ahead, the tunnel narrowed into a long, dripping corridor. The faint outline of a shadow flickered against the wall—catlike, swaying, then gone.
Ray raised her hammer higher. “Tell me that’s her, or I’m breaking whatever it is.”
The gang sprinted down the dim sewer corridor, boots slapping against shallow filth.
“I swear,” Ray growled between breaths, green eyes flashing, “if Celeste’s managed to get herself caught again—I’ll kill her before anything else does.”
Arcade shoved his cracked goggles higher on his snout, still clutching his modified tablet with wires spilling out of it. “Just keep running. Her signal’s spiking—means proximity. Once we see her, our weapons should reactivate automatically. Microchips will sync to the danger.”
Skye said nothing, padding quick and quiet beside Lumina. His ears twitched at every echo, tail rigid. “Not rat movement,” he murmured bluntly.
Up front, Mezzo blurred ahead, skidding to a halt when the tunnel forked. “Bad news, lads!” he barked, Irish lilt thick. “Dead end’s packed with the sweet-toothed freak brigade—like, lots. Backtrack, backtrack!”
They scrambled, weaving through dripping side-passages, ducking collapsed pipes and vaulting cracked hatches. The air grew thick, oppressive.
Then—they saw it.
A faint glow ahead. A room. And through a grime-streaked window… a figure. Catlike. Familiar.
“Celeste!” Skye called, his voice breaking sharp in the silence.
Mezzo didn’t hesitate. He zipped forward, shoulder-checking the door open. “Alright, you sparkly disaster!” he shouted. “You better have one hell of an—”
SLAM.
The door clanged shut behind them, hinges bubbling as sizzling green acid fused the frame into solid candy-glass.
Lumina yelped, caught just outside. “Celeste?!” She shoved against the door with both tiny arms, eyes wide.
“Stay back!” Hughes barked, yanking her by the hood before another spray of acid hissed across the wall. His cane braced against the floor, steady. “It’s a trap.”
Inside the sealed chamber, Mezzo froze mid-rant. “...Oh. That’s—uh—that’s not her.”
The figure turned slowly. At first glance, it wore Celeste’s shape. But the closer it came, the wronger it became. Limbs stretched unnaturally long. The face was too smooth, too flat. Where a mouth should be—only stretched sugar-flesh.
Yet it smiled. Without lips.
Ray’s grip on her hammer trembled. “What the actual hell is that?”
Arcade’s eyes narrowed, voice clipped and precise despite the panic. “Cat-O-Wrap. Mimic class. Copies voices. Copies faces. Lures prey. Don’t listen to it.”
Before anyone could move, a foul bubbling sound churned under their boots.
A Hippogum surged up from the sludge—a hulking mass of pink gum muscle, its jaws studded with sugar-crystal fangs. It roared, the tunnel quaking, as the gum beneath their feet stretched up, clinging and pulling like living taffy.
Arcade yelped, twisting furiously as sticky strands locked his leg in place. “This is statistically the worst-case scenario!”
Mezzo tried to blur, but his boots yanked mid-sprint and he crashed headlong into the wall. “Bloody hell! I’m stuck!”
Ray spat her lollipop onto the floor, grip white-knuckled on a rusty pipe. “Good. Now I’ve got something to smash.”
Chapter 40 : Glass Between Fangs
Celeste and Carys walked shoulder to shoulder down the dripping corridor, their footsteps echoing faintly in the dark.
Carys gave a small laugh, brushing damp strands of fur behind her ear. “Well, one good thing about the end of the world—we don’t have to sit through Mr. Talon’s sketch critiques anymore.”
Celeste groaned dramatically, nearly tripping over her own boots. “Ohhh, thank the stars. I swear, I was never pretentious enough for his classes. Another one of his critiques and I think I’d have just—just melted into a puddle right there on the floor.”
Carys grinned knowingly. “You always did hate feedback day.”
Before Celeste could hide behind her sleeve, Carys leaned closer, brushing a stray lock from Celeste’s face with a casual tenderness. Celeste froze, her cheeks warming instantly. She tried to smile but ended up fumbling a half-laugh instead, eyes darting anywhere but Carys’s.
“You should come back to the university with me,” Carys said softly, her tone more earnest now. “When this is over.”
Celeste’s smile flickered, and she looked away sheepishly. “I… I’d love to, honestly. But… I’ve got the group now. They sort of—well, they sort of need me.”
“Oh,” Carys replied, her ears twitching faintly. “You have friends?”
Celeste perked up a little, nervous but proud. “Mhm! Besides Pitch, I met them at Comic Con. We’ve been… muddling through together, really. Surviving. You’d like them—I think. Maybe when all this is done you can meet them?”
Carys’s smile widened, warm and polite, but her eyes glimmered with something else—an edge of jealousy quickly tucked away. “That sounds… delightful,” she said, her voice smooth, but just a little too careful.
Celeste, as always, missed the subtext entirely. She just beamed back at her, awkward and soft.
Celeste missed it entirely, bouncing on her heels as she added, “Maybe afterwards we could all go to the University together? It’s a bit more fortified than our base. And, um—oh stars—do you think they’ll still try to have that prom they talked about? The butterfly-themed one?”
Carys laughed softly. “Oh yes. It was supposed to be beautiful.”
A vixen survivor nearby lifted her head at the mention. Her voice was low, wistful. “I remember the Butterfly Parade. Rows of stalls, art and crafts, ribbons on every lamp post. And we released butterflies together—thousands of them. The first festival to honor the hybrids who fell in combat. There was even a real summoner there, a woman radiant as sunlight. Iridescent hair, wings like crystal…”
Celeste’s eyes lit up. “I remember that too! Oh, and those butterfly-shaped Welsh cakes with the jam in them—so tasty! I ate so many I thought I’d—” she giggled softly, hugging her arms to herself, “—pop.”
The vixen tilted her head, ears pricking. “Sweetheart… how old are you?”
Celeste blinked. “Uh… twenty-two?”
The vixen’s smile faded into something almost pitying. “Then you couldn’t have been there. That festival was twenty years ago.”
Celeste froze. Her tail twitched anxiously. “No, I… I was there. I was definitely there. I remember the butterflies, and the speech—the alicorn summoner with the shining hair. I remember.”
But as she said it, her voice wavered. The certainty felt thinner, like a thread fraying in her hands. Doubt crept in, cold and cruel.
“I do remember…” she whispered, softer now, as if trying to convince herself. “I do.”
The gigantic military door loomed before them—its steel frame warped but intact, stamped with a blackened sigil that still glowed faintly red. Across the seal, painted in bold, unforgiving strokes, was the warning:
BY ORDER OF THE BURNING EYE OF THE COUNCIL – NO ENTRY.
Carys shifted uneasily, rubbing her nose with trembling fingers. “Should we… even go in? It looks like—like one of those places you read about and then regret stepping into.”
Celeste bit her lip, then gave a tiny nod. “If it says no entry, then… well, we’re definitely supposed to go in, aren’t we? Oh goodness.” She placed her paws against the cold handle and, with a grunt, hauled it open.
One by one, the survivors filed past her into the shadowed chamber. The air was heavy—stale, humming faintly with old power.
Rows of surveillance monitors flickered to life, bathing the room in pale light. Dust swirled in the beams, and then—movement.
On one screen, Ted was sprinting through the tunnels with the group of defectors who had left earlier. Celeste’s breath caught as, one by one, shapes slithered from the shadows. The survivors were snatched, dragged screaming into the dark.
Carys whimpered and buried her nose in her hands. “We should’ve… oh, we should’ve stayed with them…” Her voice cracked, trembling.
But Celeste’s gaze had already shifted to another feed—one far worse.
A cavern.
At its center, the monstrous silhouette of the Centerpied curled around a pulsing chamber of light. Sugar-glass pods lined the walls in grotesque order, each one filled with a gooey jelly substance.
And inside each pod—faint silhouettes. People. Hundreds of them.
Celeste’s knees buckled. She gripped the console with white-knuckled hands, her tail puffing. “Oh stars… oh no. That’s… that’s where they’ve been taking them…”
The screen flickered, showing another pod being sealed, a limp figure suspended in syrup, their muffled cries distorted by the goo.
The sheer number—hundreds upon hundreds—stole her breath.
“Carys…” Celeste whispered, voice breaking. “They’re not just eating people. They’re… collecting them.”
Celeste flicked desperately through the surveillance feeds.
“Come on, come on—”
One camera snapped into focus: Pitch, sprinting through the tunnels, his shotgun in one hand, dragging another figure—Ted—by the scruff of his jacket. Close behind them, waddling with wide eyes and ragged breath, was Gordon.
Another screen blinked to life.
Celeste froze.
The gang—her gang—Ray, Mezzo, Arcade, Skye —were bound in layers of thick, glistening gum. Their bodies twitched and squirmed, but the gum clung like living taffy, tightening every time they fought it. And above them, the Cat-O-Wrap swayed side to side, its featureless face turned toward them, a false lullaby dripping from its throat. A sweet, stolen voice—Celeste’s own voice—sang through the speakers.
“Go to sleep, little dreamer… hush now, little light…”
Her swords shimmered into her hands with a snap. Celeste’s heart pounded. “Oh no—no, no, no, I need to help them—”
The feed cut. Static.
Her tail lashed. “No, no, no, no!” She slammed the console.
Another feed blinked to life—but the central chamber was empty. The Centerpied wasn’t there.
Her ears flattened as she frantically flipped through feeds, claws scratching the buttons. A low static hum built louder and louder—until one grainy image caught her breath.
The rat-faced Centerpied barreled down the tunnel, hundreds of twitching legs propelling its massive body with horrifying grace. Its antennae whipped forward, tasting the air, its jaw unhinged in anticipation.
“Oh stars…” Celeste whispered.
On the glass window ahead of her, Pitch and Gordon came into view—Pitch shoving Gordon forward, yelling at him to run.
Then— A scream.
Ted’s scream.
He was yanked backwards into the dark, his claws scrabbling against the tiles as his voice cracked into pitiful begging. “Please—! PLEASE don’t—!”
And then he was gone. Swallowed by the dark.
“TED!” Carys screamed, hands clutching her nose in horror.
Pitch roared, spinning to fire—but the beast was right behind him, its monstrous body filling the tunnel, saliva dripping like molten sugar.
Pitch and Gordon dove through the door at the last second. Survivors shoved with all their strength, slamming it closed.
The chamber shook as the Centerpied’s bulk smashed against the door, the screech of its claws dragging against steel. Then… stillness.
Celeste stepped back, katanas trembling in her grip.
And through the small reinforced glass of the door window—
A face appeared.
Ratlike. Grinning. Its rows of crystalline teeth glinted as though mocking her.
And Celeste understood in that moment—
She wasn’t the hunter. She was the trapped prey.
The Centerpied loomed against the reinforced glass, his jagged silhouette blotting out the tunnel beyond. His ratlike face pressed close, antennae twitching.
For a fleeting second, his manic grin faltered. His eyes—black, glazed with sugar-rot—flickered with something else. Recognition. Mourning.
Then it was gone. His mouth stretched wide again, crystalline teeth scraping as he laughed, the sound bubbling like syrup boiling too long. “I warned them,” he hissed, voice thick with venom. “Warned them not to crawl into my lair. But you never listen…”
Celeste tightened her grip on her katanas, tail bristling—but her voice came out small, almost apologetic. “Um—I mean, technically I sort of fell in… which, y’know, wasn’t very polite of me, but—that’s… beside the point, really.”
The monster tilted his head, taken off guard.
Celeste swallowed, ears flicking back nervously, but she stepped closer to the glass. “I know you were once… someone,” she said softly. “You must have been. And—and I don’t believe you’re completely gone. People can be reasoned with. I think maybe you can be too. Somehow.”
The Centerpied froze. His antennae stilled. For the briefest heartbeat, regret shimmered in his gaze—like a shadow of the man he once was, clawing desperately to the surface.
Then rage swallowed it whole.
“You know nothing about me, cat!” he screeched, slamming his grotesque body against the glass.
The whole chamber shuddered.
BANG.
A long crack split across the reinforced pane.
BANG. BANG.
More fissures spider-webbed outward, sugary dust raining from the frame. His claws hammered in a rhythm like war drums, his voice a furious wail:
“I’ll TEAR YOU APART!”
The survivors screamed, backing away, but Celeste held her ground—trembling, katanas raised, breath caught in her throat as the glass began to buckle.
Pitch’s shotgun was already raised, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Just say the word, kitten. I’ll blow his sugar-dripping head off.”
“Stop!” Celeste blurted, waving her arms, voice cracking. “Wait, wait, don’t—don’t shoot, Pitch, please, just a second!”
Before either of them could act, a sudden burst of static fizzled overhead. Then Bracer’s voice came through the old security speakers, clipped and gravelly: “...Testing. Hmph. Is this bloody thing working? Right, listen. It’s me. Bracer. Picked up one of Arcade’s toys—looks like a comms relay. I can see your location. The whole sewer net. If you want to get out of there alive, you’re going to follow my instructions to the letter. No improvising.”
Celeste gasped, relief flooding her face. “Bracer! Oh, stars, I—I’m so glad it’s you! I thought—well, I didn’t think you’d be—um, anyway—yes, we’ll follow, I promise!”
Pitch, shotgun still braced against his shoulder, muttered under his breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, kitten. These tunnels aren’t a maze, they’re a meat grinder.”
A low, guttural purr rolled through the chamber, rattling the cracked glass. Mandibite’s voice, smooth and mocking, slithered in from the dark: “Come out, little kitty. I’ll let the rest of your friends live... if you play with me. A game of cat and mouse.”
His massive body scraped along the glass with a screech. His ratlike grin widened, crystalline teeth catching the dim light. “Only this time... the cat is the mouse. And the rat...” he leaned close, antennae twitching against the pane, “is the cat. What do you say, meat? Shall we dance?”
Celeste froze, blades shaking in her hands. Her mouth opened, shut, opened again. “I—um—w-well, I don’t really like games that involve, um, being eaten, but—”
Pitch growled, shaking his head, cutting her off. “Bad idea, Celeste. Really bad. You have no idea how twisted these tunnels get. He’ll string you along till you’re bones.”
The Centerpied slammed a claw against the glass, fissures splintering further with a sharp CRACK. “Tick. Tock. I’m waiting, cat.”
The room vibrated with his fury.
And the decision hung in Celeste’s trembling hands.
Chapter 41 : The Chase That Woke the Cat
Mandibite leaned low toward the glass, his grotesque rat-face filling the view. His whiskers twitched as his wide grin stretched impossibly, lips peeling back to bare crooked fangs. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue dragged across the window, leaving a streak of foul, bubbling saliva on the glass.
The survivors recoiled. Some whimpered. One of the purebloods gagged.
Mandibite chuckled — a wet, grating sound that carried into the chamber like nails dragged across tile. His eyes locked onto Celeste’s, unblinking, the smile never faltering.
Carys clutched her arms, nose twitching nervously. “Celeste, this is a terrible idea. He’s tricked hundreds like this. You’ll just—” she faltered, voice breaking, “—you’ll just end up another pod.”
“I agree,” Pitch said bluntly, shotgun gripped tight. His usual grin was gone, though his tone still carried that rough humor. “This is suicide, kitten.”
Celeste’s eyes darted to the feed still flickering on the cracked monitor. Mezzo and the others, bound in gum, bodies slack, eyes rolling shut as the Cat-o-Wrap sang its lullaby. Her stomach lurched. If she did nothing, they’d die.
Before she could speak, the blue-haired dragon mythic from earlier cleared his throat. “Um—hey. Sorry, uh—” He raised a claw, fidgeting as his glasses slid down his snout. “I, uh… didn’t even tell you my name before. It’s Cosmo. Yeah. Uh—but, more important—”
He dug quickly through a satchel at her side, nearly dropping the straps in his hurry, then pulled out three faintly glowing glass orbs. His claws trembled, but his eyes lit up with a spark of pride.
“Would these help? They’re… mana bombs. I, um, kinda made them? I mean, they’re crude prototypes, but they should destabilize mana fields if you throw them just right. I was saving them for, you know, worst-case scenarios.”
He pushed them forward, blinking rapidly, like he wasn’t sure if anyone would actually take him seriously.
Pitch blinked, then let out a low whistle. “You’re a bloody genius, scales.” He snatched one from his claw, weighed it in his paw, then turned to Celeste.
“Alright, listen.” He crouched to meet her eyes, voice serious but not without a crooked smile. “I’m gonna open the door, lob this bastard out, and you run. Your pal on the intercom—” he jerked his head toward the speaker where Bracer’s voice had cut through earlier—“I hope he knows his maps, ‘cause he’s your only guide. I’ll get the survivors out another way.”
He shoved the remaining bombs into her hands, heavy and warm with pulsing mana. “Use sparingly. Slow him down if you can. Loud noises make him twitch, but he’s fast as hell. And for God’s sake, don’t die on me, kitten.”
Celeste swallowed hard, managing a wobbly, nervous smile. “I—I’ll try. Um, but I’m very clumsy, so—so no promises, right?”
She turned toward the glass where Mandibite’s hulking silhouette writhed, antennae twitching eagerly. Her voice cracked, but she forced it steady: “I accept your game. But if I reach my friends—you let them go.”
The Centerpied tilted his grotesque rat-like head. For a fleeting moment, those glinting eyes softened—something almost mournful. Then the grin returned, wide and jagged. “No promises, little cat. But I do expect you to play fair.”
Celeste nodded, blades trembling in her grip.
“One…” Pitch braced by the door. “Two…” Cosmo’s claws flexed, runes glowing on her goggles. “Three!”
The seal wrenched open—
Mandibite lunged.
But Pitch was faster. The mana bomb arced through the air and burst against the sewer wall in a shattering blaze of green fire. The Centepied shrieked, his body convulsing, smoke hissing from his cracked chitin.
“GO!” Pitch roared.
Celeste bolted into the tunnels, the bombs rattling in her arms. Her legs carried her faster than she thought possible, breath sharp in her throat.
Behind her, Mandibite’s voice tore through the dark, ragged and furious: “YOU LIAR!”
And the chase began.
Celeste’s paws slapped against the candy-slick stone, her breath ragged, heart hammering so loud she thought it would burst through her chest. The tunnels stretched endlessly—pipes hissing, water dripping, the smell of syrup and rot choking her lungs.
Behind her, Mandibite thundered. His grotesque centipede body scraped against the walls, antennae twitching, claws gouging into stone with every lunge. Each time his shadow swept over her tail, her fur bristled.
Bracer’s voice cut through the static in her ear. Calm. Measured. Unshakable. “Left. Now. Don’t think, just move.”
Celeste skidded, nearly toppling, scrambling through a narrow side corridor. Her shoulder slammed into the wall, pain flaring—but it was better than teeth in her spine. “Oh stars, oh stars, I’m not—I’m not fast enough, I’m gonna trip and he’s gonna eat me like—like a soggy biscuit—!”
“Eyes forward, lass,” Bracer snapped. “Corner ahead. Tight. Duck low, or you’ll lose your ears.”
She ducked on instinct—Mandibite’s claw whistled through the air where her head had been, sparking off the pipework.
“HAH!” The Centerpied’s warped voice screeched from behind. “Run, little kitty! You’re quick, but I’ve got so many legs. You can’t win a race you can’t finish!”
Celeste whimpered, clutching one of the mana bombs to her chest. “This is a horrible idea—worse than that time I tried to bake treacle tarts and set the oven on fire—!”
“Focus,” Bracer growled. “You’re coming up on a junction. Take the far right tunnel—ignore the others.”
She darted right, panting, her glow flickering faintly along the sludge-wet walls.
Mandibite slammed into the corner behind her, shrieking in delight. “Ohhh, clever girl! But every maze has a rat at the end!”
Celeste risked a glance back—and instantly regretted it. His jagged rat-face leered in the dark, syrup dripping from his crooked fangs. He was faster than she thought. Too fast. His antenna whipped forward, snagging the back of her hood.
“EEEKKK—no no no nonono!” Celeste shrieked, thrashing, yanking herself free. The fabric tore—and she stumbled, nearly falling flat.
Bracer barked in her ear. “Mana bomb! Now, lass!”
With a squeak of pure terror, she hurled one over her shoulder. The orb shattered, a pulse of green energy exploding down the corridor. Mandibite reared back, his scream rattling her bones, smoke hissing off his carapace.
Celeste kept running, legs like jelly. “Oh thank goodness, oh thank goodness—”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Bracer cut in. “Two more turns. Then a drop. You’ll need to jump.”
“Jump?! Oh, I hate jumping! Every time I jump, I fall, and when I fall, I bruise, and when I bruise—”
“Celeste. Trust me.”
She gulped. Nodded even though he couldn’t see.
Mandibite’s laugh slithered down the tunnels. “Ohhh, little mouse-cat, little glowing morsel—you can throw your toys, but when they run out, what’s left? You. Cornered. Delicious.”
Celeste’s eyes watered from panic. She saw the drop ahead—an old maintenance shaft gaping open into darkness. Bracer’s voice was steel. “Now, lass. JUMP.”
Celeste screamed and leapt—clumsy, flailing, every bit of her hating it. For a moment she thought she’d missed, but her paws smacked the opposite ledge, claws scraping, body dangling. She scrambled up, sobbing out of sheer relief.
Mandibite didn’t even slow. He launched after her, his body coiling like a spring, snapping his jaws inches from her tail as she yanked herself forward and collapsed onto the floor.
The tunnel shook with his landing.
Celeste staggered up, clutching her blades, her voice a broken squeak. “I’m so dead. I’m so dead.”
Mandibite laughed again, so close now she could feel his breath on her back. “Yes, kitten. You are.”
Her lungs burned, legs trembling — but then something in Celeste snapped.
The fear was still there, a thunder in her chest, but her body stopped listening to her panic. Her pupils narrowed into thin, glowing slits. Her ears twitched, tracking the slightest echo. She no longer thought about the next step. She knew it.
She dropped to all fours without hesitation, claws sparking against the stone as she tore through the tunnels like lightning. The stench of syrup, rot, and acid filled her nose — and she could pick it apart, smell Mandibite’s sour musk behind her, the cold trail of stagnant water ahead, even the faint iron tang of rusted pipes to her left.
Bracer’s voice crackled in her ear, sharp but lower now. “There it is… aye. That’s what I wanted to see. Instinct. Stop thinking like a scholar, lass. Start fighting like a cat.”
Her only response was a guttural growl as she launched herself across a broken gap, claws digging into the far wall as she scrambled up it like a wild thing. Mandibite lunged after her — but she skittered vertically, claws tearing chunks of sugar-stone free until she hauled herself over the ledge.
The Centerpied’s head smashed into the wall below, chitin cracking. He screeched, furious. “You… little vermin! You won’t scurry from me!”
She landed, hissed low in her throat, and sprinted again.
The tunnel twisted downward into a slope. She didn’t slow — she dug her claws into the wall, dragging sparks to steady herself as she half-slid, half-ran. Mandibite thundered behind her, snapping his jaws, antennae whipping inches from her tail.
The slope ended in a drop.
She didn’t think. She leapt, claws out. Slammed into the far side. Slid. Scrabbled. Hauled herself up with a feral snarl. Mandibite followed — and for the first time, he hesitated. His rat-face sneered as blood dripped from the fresh slashes where she’d clawed him earlier.
Celeste whipped around, pinned, her back to a wall. The Centerpied lunged, snapping.
She slashed.
Her claws raked across his face, leaving blazing gouges down his muzzle. He howled, rearing back, ichor sizzling as it splattered the floor.
Bracer’s voice cut through, firm and approving. “That’s it, lass! That’s the feral I was after! Not prey. Predator. You corner a cat, and gods help what comes next.”
Celeste didn’t speak. She just snarled, lips peeled back, eyes burning.
Mandibite writhed, antennae twitching erratically. “You filthy—filthy beast!” His voice cracked, no longer mocking but edged with anger. “You think claws will save you? I’ll rip them off one by one!”
She didn’t wait. She tore past him, darting between his legs, bounding forward on all fours. She leapt cracks, climbed walls, swung from jagged pipes with a grace she didn’t know she had. Every move faster. Every turn sharper.
And Mandibite — for the first time — couldn’t quite keep up.
His screeches grew louder, more erratic, his massive body thrashing against the walls as he barreled after her. But his words no longer dripped amusement. They spat frustration.
“No more games, kitty!” he roared. “I’ll peel your skin and wear it!”
Celeste only growled back — low, dangerous, and feral — before vanishing around the next bend, her claws sparking against the stone.
Chapter 42 : Sticky Symphony
Celeste burst through the doorway like a storm, slamming it shut behind her with a crash. Mandibite’s shriek rattled the walls, his rat-eyes gleaming through the crack.
“I’ll kill you! Moggy!” his voice roared, echoing like nails on glass. “The zombies inside will chew you apart!”
Celeste’s breath came in ragged gasps, her feral edge collapsing into wide-eyed panic. She spun—
—and froze.
The Cat-O-Wrap stood there, its head tilting with that awful faceless smile, its false Celeste-shape swaying as it sang. The lullaby crawled into her ears, worming sleep into her mind.
Beside it, the Hippogum oozed forward, each stomp warping the candy-stone floor, strings of gum stretching and snapping with every lumbering step.
And her friends—Ray, Arcade, Skye—half-smothered in the gum, eyes fluttering shut. Mezzo’s chest barely moved. They couldn’t breathe.
“No, no no no!” Celeste squeaked, blades flaring to life in her trembling hands. She charged—awkward, desperate, but deadly.
One clean slash.
The Cat-O-Wrap’s head fell, unraveling into shreds of sticky sugar. The lullaby cut off mid-note, silence ringing in its place.
+200 EXP +Cat Wraps (Common Drop)
“Please, please—” Celeste scrambled across the floor, hacking away at the gum binding Mezzo. Her claws tore chunks away, sticky strings clinging to her fur. “Don’t you dare—don’t you dare!”
She shook him, tears welling. “Mezzo, wake up, please wake up, oh stars, please—”
His eyes fluttered, glazed. Then—slowly—he smirked. “Oooh,” he croaked, voice rough but playful, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes…”
Celeste let out a sob of relief that turned into a broken laugh, pressing her forehead to his for just a heartbeat. “You idiot, you absolute idiot, don’t do that to me!”
Behind them, the ground shook.
The Hippogum loomed closer, gum strands dripping from its wide, crystallized jaws.
Mezzo coughed, then grinned weakly. “Now that’s more like it.”
With a snap of his paw, Infernal Riff blazed into being—strings humming with fire and speed. The gum around him recoiled, sizzling. He stood, shaking the sugar from his fur, his grin growing wild again.
“Round two, big guy,” he said, voice hoarse but full of reckless glee. “And this time, we play loud.”
The Hippogum lurched forward, gum-flesh bubbling as it roared. Celeste darted in first, her twin katanas flashing. Each slice cut deep into its sticky hide, spraying molten gum across the floor — but every wound sealed again with a wet snap.
“Stay back!” she squeaked, slashing faster, her voice panicked but determined. “I’ll—I’ll hold it, I promise, just hurry!”
Mezzo staggered to his feet, Heartaxe blazing, then whipped it in a wide arc to shred the gum binding Ray. “C’mon, Sunshine, rise and shine!”
Ray gasped in air, fury sparking in her eyes. “Took you long enough.” Her hammer materialized with a fiery glow. She cracked it into her palm. “Alright, hippopotamus. Let’s dance.”
Arcade coughed, still half-dazed, but snapped his fingers. “C.H.I.P., hostile engagement protocol. And no, that’s not an invitation for interpretive dance.”
Chip’s head popped open with a chirp. “Hostile mode engaged! Firing in three, two—pew pew pew!”
Static blasts zipped from the little bot, sizzling holes into the Hippogum’s surface.
Skye, pulling free with Mezzo’s help, adjusted his launcher with shaking hands. His ears twitched, lips moving in half-muttered calculations only he understood. Then — snap. A glowing card slid into place.
“Summon — Fire Witch,” he whispered.
The holographic witch erupted in flame, a towering figure with burning hair and a staff of molten ember. She raised her staff and unleashed a column of fire directly into the Hippogum’s chest.
The beast shrieked, gum boiling, its sticky surface bubbling away under the heat.
Ray roared, charging forward with Heartbreaker. “Now! Hit it harder!”
She slammed her hammer down into its molten side, but with a sickening splorch, it stuck. The gum swallowed it to the hilt.
“What—?!” Ray snarled, yanking hard. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
Beside her, Mezzo slashed Heartaxe into the beast’s back. The gum clung instantly, locking the blade in place.
“Oh, for feck’s sake!” he shouted, jerking the guitar free — but it wouldn’t budge. “That’s cheating!”
Celeste’s blades blurred, slicing in frantic arcs, but every time she cut, the Hippogum regenerated, gum knitting together faster than she could carve. “Oh stars oh stars oh stars this isn’t working!” she stammered, tail puffed.
The Hippogum shuddered forward, its jawless maw stretching, syrup-thick walls opening like a living trap. The stench of mint and rot clung to the air as it lurched, trying to swallow them whole.
“Keep it busy!” Ray shouted, hammer braced. She swung hard into its flank, the gum-like flesh warping and snapping back with a grotesque wobble.
“Working on it!” Mezzo barked, loosing a volley of soundwaves that rattled the sticky beast. Arcade darted in with a burst of static sparks, while Skye hung back, cards flickering like holographic wards around him.
Celeste’s grip tightened. Her twin katanas shimmered, the ribbons trailing light like restless comets. She darted forward—heart pounding, ears pinned back.
She leapt.
Both blades came down in a swift, precise cross. The slashes intersected midair, carving an X of blinding silver across the Hippogum’s chest.
Light exploded.
The trails her blades left behind didn’t vanish but hung there—two intersecting arcs of starlight, drifting like afterimages in the dark. Sparkling motes flared outward, a constellation born from the clash. The Hippogum reeled, the cross searing deep into its body, gum-flesh bubbling and sizzling around the glowing wound.
Celeste landed lightly, breath catching, eyes wide at the lingering starry scar she had left.
“Stars above…” she whispered.
Behind her, Mezzo grinned wolfishly. “Now that’s rock and roll.”
Ray only smirked, rolling her shoulders. “Took the words outta my mouth.”
The Hippogum howled, the battlefield lit in silver sparks as Celeste readied herself again, the constellation still burning against the monster’s hide.
The Hippogum shambled, blistered by flame and still hissing from Celeste’s Lunar Cross scar. Its gum-flesh snapped outward like taffy, trying to pin her in place.
“Celeste! With me!” Mezzo’s shout cut through the chaos. His guitar flashed into being, strings already vibrating with a pulse of raw mana.
She darted toward him, twin blades raised. The first note rang out—low, thrumming, vibrating in her bones.
Her katana slashed once, the strike syncing perfectly with the sound.
The second chord came brighter, sharper. Her arms blurred, the next swing faster.
Then Mezzo grinned, teeth bared, and let loose. A cascade of wild chords burst from his instrument, every note driving her into another cut, another strike, her ribbons sparking hotter each time. The air filled with the rhythm—steel and sound locked together, dancing.
Slash—slash—slash—slash! Each blow landed harder, quicker, the speed climbing with the tempo.
The Hippogum staggered under the storm, its gum-flesh sizzling where her blades tore through, every wound flaring with heat as if Mezzo’s chords stoked fire into her steel.
By the final riff, Celeste was a blur of motion, her blades screaming arcs of white-hot light across the monster. She leapt back on the downbeat, the last note hanging sharp in the air as the Hippogum’s massive bulk trembled, riddled with glowing wounds.
Mezzo swung his guitar down with a flourish, panting but grinning wide. “Now that was a solo worth playing.”
Celeste landed beside him, chest heaving, her eyes shining like stars. “We… we played it together,” she said softly, almost in awe.
And for a moment, the battlefield was less a warzone and more a stage—two performers, their duet blazing against the dark.
The Fire Witch raised her staff again. “Burn,” Skye muttered, his focus razor sharp. The witch unleashed another torrent of flames, hotter this time, peeling back layers of gum until the creature’s core shone inside — a crystallized candy heart pulsing like molten sugar.
“Oi!” Mezzo yelled, straining against his stuck weapon. “Somebody hit that before I melt too!”
Arcade shoved Chip forward, the little bot’s eyes glowing bright. “C.H.I.P., focus fire on the core. Burn it out.”
Chip beeped happily. “Target locked! Boom time!”
Electric bursts hammered into the creature’s chest. The Fire Witch poured flames into it. Celeste saw her opening — and with a shaky, desperate cry, leapt, blades crossed, straight for the glowing heart.
The Hippogum bellowed, gum bubbling over like a cauldron. Its crystallized heart pulsed in its chest, glowing hotter with each second.
The Fire Witch’s flames tore at it, her molten staff burning deep cracks across its torso. Chip’s static blasts followed, each strike snapping those cracks wider.
The Hippogum shuddered, gum-flesh splitting as it tried to engulf Mezzo’s soundwave and Ray’s hammer in one hungry sweep. The sticky tide surged, pulling at their paws, dragging them toward its maw.
“Skye!” Arcade barked, sparks leaping off his wrench. “Anytime would be good!”
Skye’s ears twitched, his eyes narrowing in focus. He flicked his wrist, and his holographic card holder snapped open with a sharp shhhk. Cards shimmered in the air like a fan of light.
“Alright, alright… don’t fail me now,” he muttered.
He drew.
A card spun free, glowing brighter than the rest. Its surface burned with a fiery crest, light spilling in a molten cascade.
“Fire it is,” Skye breathed, a grin twitching at his muzzle.
He flung the card forward. It sliced through the air, trailing a tail of blazing orange, the glow bending and twisting like a comet. When it struck, the Hippogum recoiled, flames erupting across its surface. The gum bubbled and charred, the sticky mass hardening into brittle chunks.
The lingering trail of the card hung in the air a heartbeat longer, blazing like a firework streak before fading.
Mezzo gave a triumphant bark of laughter. “That’s more like it, card boy!”
Ray yanked her hammer free from the now-stiff gum, smirking. “Guess you do have some bite after all.”
Skye’s cheeks reddened, but he straightened, flicking his card holder shut with a snap. “Lucky draw,” he said, though the gleam in his eyes said he knew it was more than that.
Celeste glanced at him, ribbons swaying in the firelit haze, and whispered with a smile, “Radiant…” as if naming the move herself.
“Core exposed!” Arcade barked, sweat on his brow as he hammered runes into his pad. “Hit it now before it reseals!”
Ray wrenched against Heartbreaker, teeth bared. “Hammer’s stuck—Celeste! Move!”
Mezzo yanked desperately at Heartaxe. “This is bloody humiliating—hang on, kitten, I’ll give you the rhythm!” He kicked the guitar once, strumming its strings with a sudden burst of sparks. The pulse of sound shook the beast, staggering it just enough.
Celeste’s claws tightened on her blades. She darted forward, tail fluffed, breath trembling. “Alright—alright—don’t mess this up—!”
With a sharp growl, she leapt, both swords blazing with her aura. For a split second, her pupils slit into feral lines, instincts kicking in.
She struck.
Twin blades crossed in an X, carving into the crystallized core. The Fire Witch’s flames surged into the opening, Chip’s electricity bursting through the cracks.
The Hippogum let out one last screech—half roar, half gurgle—before its entire chest caved inward. Molten gum erupted outward in a sticky explosion, raining caramelized shards across the chamber.
The beast collapsed into a melted heap, its candy heart shattering into glittering fragments.
+300 EXP
Celeste hit the ground on all fours, panting hard. She blinked up at her team. “D—did we…?”
Mezzo whooped, finally yanking Heartaxe free. “Oh, hell yes! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Teamwork, baby!”
Ray spat out a wad of gum and scowled. “If this stuff gets in my mane again, I’m shaving it off.”
Arcade nudged Chip, who was happily singing “We are the champions” in digital beeps. “That was… effective,” he admitted, though his voice trembled with the adrenaline crash.
Skye exhaled, lowering his launcher. “The witch burned out,” he said softly, watching the flames fade to sparks. “But… it worked.”
Celeste, still catching her breath, sheathed her swords with shaky hands. Her eyes softened as she looked at them all — alive, messy, but together.
“We did it,” she whispered, almost shy. “We… actually did it.”
Chapter 43 : Down the Hole
The door shuddered with every slam, sugar glass splintering across the frame. Mandibite’s screeches echoed through the chamber like nails dragged across metal.
“COME HERE, KITTY!” he howled, his ratlike fangs scraping against the window slit. “I’LL CRACK YOUR BONES LIKE SWEETS!”
The group recoiled as cracks spiderwebbed across the barrier.
Ray snarled, planting Heartbreaker into the hinges of the side door. With a grunt, she pried the candy-welded lock apart until it gave way with a CRUNCH.
“MOVE!” she barked, charging out first.
The group sprinted into the sewer corridor, their breaths ragged. Arcade risked a glance back at the camera feed on his pad—only to see Mandibite melt straight through the door, dragging his grotesque body into the room.
Mezzo zipped ahead, then froze, pointing upward. “Oi—rope! That’s our ticket outta here!”
A line of rope dangled down from the cracked street above. Their salvation.
But Mandibite was barreling after them now, sugar-rat jaws snapping.
Ray turned on her heel, slamming Heartbreaker into the ground. The shockwave rattled the walls and staggered him back a step. “Climb! Now!” she ordered, bracing herself.
Mezzo scrambled onto the rope, panting with effort. “Oh, gods, oh, gods—bloody cardio, why didn’t I practice pull-ups?!”
Arcade wheezed as he climbed, every muscle shaking. “Statistically speaking, rope escapes are—hrrgh—a terrible survival method!”
Skye hauled himself up with silent determination, though his tail twitched anxiously with every creak of the rope.
Celeste leapt for the rope—clawed it—and instantly slipped back down into a puddle with a squeak. “Oh stars, oh no, oh no—!” She tried again, clinging with all fours, only to slide halfway before dangling like a sad ornament.
Mandibite lunged forward, shrieking, “MINE!”
“Hold on, blondie!” Ray snarled. With one arm, she hooked Heartbreaker behind her back, grabbed Celeste by the waist, and hurled her upward like a ragdoll rocket.
“AAAAH—!” Celeste shrieked, flailing wildly before landing face-first on the pavement above with a graceless smack.
The others yanked her the rest of the way out just as the sewer ceiling gave way. Chunks of sugarcrete and pipes collapsed onto Mandibite, pinning his writhing body in a storm of debris.
“NOOOO!” he roared, his rat face glaring up through the dust. “I’LL FIND YOU, CAT! I’LL EAT YOU ALL!”
The street shook as his screams faded back into the tunnels.
Above ground, the group collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath.
Celeste sat up, rubbing her head, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I—I meant to do that.”
Mezzo, still heaving, flopped onto his back with a groan. “Right. Note to self—really need to work on upper body strength. Maybe… maybe less sandwiches.”
Arcade wheezed, lying spread-eagle on the ground. “No promises.”
Ray leaned against her hammer, sweat streaking her brow. “We’re alive. Barely.”
Skye adjusted his satchel with shaky hands. His ears twitched as he realized something. “…Where’s Hughes? And Lumina?”
The relief shattered. The group looked at each other—faces pale, breaths still ragged.
They weren’t all out.
Across the ruined courtyard, a voice rang out.
“Celeste!”
She spun, relief flooding her chest. Carys, Pitch, and the handful of survivors spilled into view, faces lit with shock and joy. Pitch’s grin was ragged but real.
“Thank the bloody stars,” he panted. “Thought we’d lost you for good, kitten.”
Celeste started toward them—only for the ground to quake.
CRACK.
Mandibite tore through the cobblestones, his grotesque body erupting in a spray of dust and shards. His rat-face split in a grin, jagged teeth gnashing as his voice ripped through the air:
“I’M NOT THROUGH WITH YOU YET, ASTALLAN! YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU LET ME AND MY BROTHERS ENDURE!”
Everyone froze.
Celeste’s ears flattened, her stomach twisting. “H-how—how do you know my name?”
Mandibite’s many eyes gleamed. “I know your kin. And that’s enough.”
Then he lunged.
Celeste barely had time to gasp before Mezzo shoved her aside. “Move it, Princess—!”
Mandibite’s claws closed around him mid-dash. Mezzo yelped, clawing at the stone floor, his boots scraping furrows in the rubble as panic cracked his voice.
“NONONO—WAIT—!” He wrenched free for half a second—only for Mandibite to snatch him again, this time with Gordon the penguin in tow.
Gordon’s voice shrilled in terror. “Unhand me—this is unlawful!”
Mezzo’s howl split the air. “Oh, COME ON—!”
Both were yanked into the writhing dark.
Celeste’s heart seized. She sprinted forward, blades bursting into her hands. “MEZZO!” Her scream cracked with desperation.
Mandibite’s face loomed one last time from the shadows, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
“If you want them…” His words slithered across the broken courtyard. “…come get them. On my terms.”
Then, with a final guttural laugh, he vanished into the tunnels below.
Dust settled. Silence followed.
Celeste’s swords shook in her grip, her chest heaving, her heart breaking in her throat.
He had Mezzo.
The courtyard was silent but for Celeste’s ragged breathing. Her claws dug grooves into her hilts, her chest burning as Mezzo’s scream echoed in her skull.
“No…” Her voice cracked, small. “No, no, no—”
Pitch swore under his breath, snapping his knife shut. “Damn it! Kitten, I told you—he’s faster than you think.”
Arcade shoved his glasses up, frantic. “He took Mezzo and Gordon. That’s two signals gone in seconds. Two! My readings can’t even keep up with how fast he moved—”
Arcade’s comm crackled in his paw, Bracer’s voice cutting through the static.
“Arcade. Listen carefully. I’ve got eyes on the tunnels. Hughes and Lumina—aye, they’re alive. Cornered, but alive. Crystal’s feeding me the routes. I’ll guide what I can.”
Arcade’s jaw clenched. “Copy that.” He turned to the group, pale under his goggles. “They’re still down there. Hughes and Lumina… and Mezzo.”
Celeste’s heart twisted so sharply it almost dropped her blades. Her ears folded back, her throat tight. “No… no, it should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one he—”
“Don’t,” Ray snapped, her voice sharp as steel. She stepped forward, looming. “Don’t start that guilt-drivel. You dying would’ve ended us all. Like it or not, you’re the key here.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Ray—he’s Mezzo. He’s my friend. And Lumina—my sister. Hughes, too. I’m not—” Her voice cracked, almost breaking. “I’m not leaving them to die.”
Ray’s expression softened only a fraction, but her tone stayed harsh. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t wanna tear down there right now and rip that rat apart? I do. But it’s suicide. You’re the one holding us together, Celeste. Not him. Not Hughes. Not Lumina. You.”
Celeste’s hands trembled. She dropped her gaze, staring at the cracked sugar-street beneath her boots.
Carys pressed her paws to her nose, voice wavering. “He… he said your name. He knew you. Why would he—?”
Skye’s quiet voice cut through, blunt and plain. “Because he’s not just a monster.” His ears twitched, his gaze steady despite the shake in his hands. “He remembers what he was.”
For a long beat, no one spoke. Only Mandibite’s distant roars echoed from the sewers below.
Finally, Celeste inhaled. Shaky. But sure. She lifted her head, tears stinging her eyes.
“Then… then stay. Guard the survivors. Keep them safe if that’s what you believe.” She looked at each of them in turn, her voice barely above a whisper, but steady. “But I’m not leaving my sister. Or my friends. I have to get him out.”
Silence pressed down like a weight.
Mezzo’s absence ached in the air.
Arcade looked away first, fiddling with his device. Skye’s ears flicked nervously, his paws tightening around his deck. Even Carys, standing awkwardly at the edge, pressed her hands together as if to stop herself from trembling.
Ray clenched her jaw, saying nothing—just staring at Celeste like she was both furious and… proud.
And Celeste stood there, small and shaking, but unflinching.
For a long, tense moment, no one moved. The courtyard still hummed with the echo of Mandibite’s threat, the ground trembling faintly where he’d burrowed below.
Ray finally broke the silence with a long, exasperated sigh. She shouldered her hammer and gave Celeste a sharp look.
“Fine. Come on, blondie,” she muttered. “Let’s go get your boyfriend back.”
Celeste went crimson to the tips of her ears. “He—he’s not my boyfriend!” she stammered, hands waving uselessly. “He’s—he’s just Mezzo, and he’s loud and ridiculous and—”
Pitch chuckled, adjusting Lady Luck over his shoulder. He leaned close just long enough to wink. “That’s good to know, kitten.”
Celeste blinked at him, utterly dumfounded. “W-what?”
Celeste turned to Arcade, soft but firm. “Arcade, can you watch the others? Keep them safe?”
Arcade froze, then scowled like she’d just asked him to scrub toilets. “Babysit? Really? I am an unparalleled strategist and inventor. My talents are wasted on juice boxes and nap time.”
Ray’s mouth quirked in the faintest smirk. “Keep the engine warm too.”
“Perfect,” Arcade muttered, throwing up his hands. “Next thing I know, I’ll be fetching snacks. A true tactical use of my brilliance. Nope i'm coming too.”
A soft tug on his sleeve stopped the rant. Skye stepped forward, clutching his card launcher, eyes peeking out shyly from behind his bangs.
“You… you don’t have to go in alone,” he mumbled, words low but certain. “I, um… I’ve got a plan. Sort of.”
He slid three cards into his launcher, clicked, and with a burst of light, three spectral soldiers flickered into being. Their weapons were absurdly candy-themed—cane-swords and lollipop shields—but the stance was disciplined, solid.
Celeste’s eyes widened. “O-oh! Skye, that’s… amazing! When did you—?”
“I read the rules. And then the rules behind the rules,” Skye said quickly, almost too fast. Then, quieter: “They… talk to me. Not out loud, but… it makes sense in my head.”
Arcade tilted his head, amused. “Adorable and mildly terrifying. I approve.”
Cosmo, the young dragon, scratched his neck awkwardly, his blonde mane shimmering faintly with mana sparks. “I can… cover it. Use my mana to shield them. Better me here than out there.”
Celeste exhaled, relief flooding her chest. She offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Cosmo. We’ll… we’ll hopefully make it back.”
Ray snorted. “You’d better. I didn’t survive this sugar-coated hell just to die babysitting either.”
Pitch spun his shotgun once and grinned. “Then let’s stop yapping and start hunting.”
Celeste looked once more at the group they were leaving behind, her hands curling into fists. Her stomach twisted with guilt and fear—but beneath it, something stronger.
Resolve.
“Alright,” she whispered, then louder: “Alright. Let’s go.”
And together—with Ray at her side, Pitch swaggering close behind, and Skye quiet but steady—they jumped back into the hole.
The dark swallowed them whole.
Chapter 44 : Maze of Fangs and Threads
The sewers swallowed them with damp air and the stink of syrup rot. Their boots slapped into shallow sludge, the glow of Celeste’s aura bouncing weirdly across the sugar-slick walls.
Ray grumbled, “This is stupid. We’re walking into a mousetrap.”
Pitch cocked his shotgun with a smirk. “Good thing we’re the cats, then.”
Before Celeste could nervously remind him she wasn’t much of a cat when panicked, a high-pitched giggle echoed from the tunnels. Then another. And another.
Sugar Rushers.
The swarm poured out from broken pipes and cracks in the walls, tiny bodies clicking as they scampered on all fours, eyes glowing like gummy stars.
“Here we go!” Mezzo would’ve shouted—except Mezzo wasn’t here. The thought sent a pang through Celeste, but she swung her blades up anyway.
Ray charged first, hammer flattening two Rushers against the wall. Pitch blasted another clean down the tunnel. Celeste sliced a third neatly in half—just as her foot landed on something that clicked.
“Oh dear.”
The floor beneath her spat a spray of green acid—she yelped, tripping backward—only for Skye to yank her out of the way by her sleeve. The acid hissed where it hit the wall, melting through the candy stone like it was butter.
“Booby traps?” Pitch barked, kicking a Rusher into the acid spray. “Since when do zombies set booby traps?”
“Since Mandibite, apparently,” Ray snarled, wrenching her hammer free.
Then a familiar voice echoed behind them: “Correction. Since about three minutes ago, when I decided to help.”
Arcade came jogging down the tunnel, goggles askew, his Arcbracer sparking faintly around his forearm as it projected glowing glyphs into the dark. His other hand clutched his battered laptop tight to his chest, panting like he’d run a marathon.
Ray’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me?!”
“Surprise,” Arcade wheezed, slamming his device into the wall pipe access. The screen flickered—runes streamed across. “Also, you’re welcome.”
The pipes above them groaned, pressure building. Then, with a thunderous crack, a surge of water and syrup burst through. The flood swept the Sugar Rushers clean down the opposite tunnel, squealing as they tumbled away like candy wrappers in a storm.
Arcade flicked his quills smugly. “See? Efficient extermination.”
Celeste, still wide-eyed, whispered, “You… nearly drowned us all.”
“Well, nearly isn’t actually.” He smirked.
Pitch tilted his head. “You do realize if that spray had hit us, we’d be sludge right now?”
“Yes,” Arcade replied without missing a beat. “But it didn’t.”
Ray pinched the bridge of her snout. “Unbelievable. We told you to stay with the others.”
Arcade just shrugged. “And miss this delightful death march? Not a chance.”
Celeste sighed softly, torn between relief and frustration. She adjusted her grip on her swords. “Well… alright. But, um… please don’t nearly kill us again?”
“No promises,” Arcade said, already tapping furiously at his screen.
They pressed forward deeper into the sewers, the tunnels groaning with pressure. Every corner threatened more Rushers, more traps. And the sound of something massive scraping in the dark reminded them Mandibite was never far behind.
The tunnels bent tighter, pipes dripping syrup like veins. Every corner was worse than the last.
They almost walked into a swinging candy-glass blade — thick as a guillotine — until Skye yanked Celeste back by the hood. It whooshed past her nose with a sching!
“Focus, Sparkles,” Ray muttered, smashing the blade loose with Heartbreaker. “They’re setting bloody traps now.”
“Uh, correction,” Arcade said, pointing down the tunnel. “They’re building them.”
Sure enough, just ahead, half a dozen Sugar Rushers were scurrying like engineers, their tiny claws tying sticky gum-thread tripwires across a corridor, lifting sharpened candy canes into grooves, and even dragging a jar of acid into place above a doorframe.
One of the Rushers noticed them and screeched, but before it could run, Pitch hurled a knife pinning it to the wall by its sticky arm. The little monster flailed, squealing in a warped, sugary pitch.
“Alright,” Pitch said, stepping closer. “Let’s see how clever this one really is.”
The creature went still. Its gummy eyes glowed faintly green. And when it spoke, its voice was wrong. Deep. Wet. Mocking.
“Well, well, well,” it gurgled. “Cat’s still in my maze. And she brought her toys.”
Celeste froze. “Mandibite…”
The Rushers’ jaw cracked unnaturally wide as the voice poured through it. “Every giggle. Every bite. Every trap. Mine. They are my teeth, my eyes, my swarm. And you… are still running.”
Ray snarled and raised her hammer to crush it, but Celeste held out a paw, trembling.
“It’s… hive-mind controlled,” she whispered. “He’s… he’s in all of them.”
The Rusher tilted its head unnaturally, smile splitting further. “Correct, little spark. And every time you cut one down… I see it. I feel it. I learn.”
Then, with a hideous snap, the Rusher twisted its own neck until it broke, falling limp.
The tunnel went silent but for the echo of Mandibite’s laughter slithering away through the dark.
Celeste hugged her arms around herself, shaking. “He’s watching us through all of them. Always.”
“Then we kill faster,” Ray growled.
Pitch reloaded Lady Luck. “And we don’t get caught.”
Arcade muttered, “Well. That’s not terrifying at all.”
They pressed on, each trap sharper, each shadow heavier, each squeal echoing with Mandibite’s mockery.
The group crowded into the surveillance room, the hum of old council monitors flickering over their faces. On one wall, broken feeds stuttered between static and half-glimpsed tunnels. The air smelled of burnt sugar and rust.
Arcade set his pack down with more force than usual, pulling cables into an ancient port. “Let me stay here,” he said, voice low but brisk. “I can guide you through the tunnels, disarm anything ahead of time. Give you an edge.”
Bracer’s voice crackled through the comms. “And I’ll track movement on the sugar map. Between us, you’ll know what’s comin’ before it’s got teeth on you.”
Pitch gave a sharp nod, twirling Lady Luck before snapping it closed. “Great idea. Then if things go south, we’ve got an escape plan—live bodies first, heroics second.”
Ray rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “Yeah, wonderful. Just remember—if we die horribly, this was Celeste’s idea.”
Celeste puffed out her cheeks, ears twitching. “Oh—I’d save you if you needed it! Honestly. I would.”
For a split second, Ray actually smiled—then looked away, guilty flickering behind her sarcasm.
Then, a faint echo cut through the tunnels. Distant shouting.
Skye’s head snapped up. “Mezzo,” he whispered, ears twitching. “And the others. They’re… scared.”
Arcade turned sharply toward him. “How do you know that?”
Skye didn’t answer—just stared down the tunnel, jaw tight.
Arcade swallowed, then placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Skye… maybe you should stay with me. Let the adults handle this.”
Skye’s large ears drooped slightly, but he shook his head. “I can help.”
“I’m telling you to stay,” Arcade insisted, voice cracking in his attempt at authority.
Skye hesitated—then pulled a holographic card from his deck, the edges glowing faintly. “I have a plan. If it fails… this can teleport me out. Wizard summon. I won’t get stuck.”
Arcade stared at the card, then at his cousin. For a rare moment, the sharp genius façade broke. He stepped forward and wrapped Skye in a tight, awkward hug.
“Please don’t get killed,Cousin.” Arcade muttered, voice unsteady.
Skye squeezed him back, quiet but certain. “Correction. Brother. You’re more like a brother to me.”
Arcade froze, then gave a trembling laugh. “...That’s the first correction I’ve ever liked.” He pulled away, adjusting his goggles quickly to hide his expression. “Go. Before the others sense weakness.”
Skye smiled—small but true—and darted to join the group.
Arcade watched him leave, then turned to Celeste. His voice was clipped but serious. “Protect him. No matter what. I’ll scan for Lumina in the meantime.”
Celeste nodded softly. “I will. You can trust me.”
And with that, the group vanished back into the tunnels—leaving Arcade in the hum of monitors, alone with his fear.
They crept forward, following Arcade’s voice in their earpieces and Bracer’s steady updates over the sugar-map feed, until the sewer opened into a wide, decaying balcony. The railings were warped and half-melted, but it gave them a clear view of the dome below.
The sight was grotesque.
Below sprawled a massive circular chamber, high-ceilinged and glistening with candy-slick walls. Cocoons lined the edges like ornaments—writhing faintly, alive. Sugar Rushers scuttled like worker ants between them, joined by shambling Gumbies and other syrup-soaked husks with glassy eyes.
And there, off-center—
“HEY! Yeah, YOU, you overgrown trail-mix reject!”
The voice snapped through the chamber.
A peach-colored rabbit with a crooked ear flailed furiously as gummy threads tried to pin her down. She was short, round, and loud, every word sharp and brazen. Even half-cocooned, she was impossible to ignore.
“You better put me down right now, pal,” she barked, her accent quick and biting, every word dripping with fire. “I swear on my grandmother’s fudge recipe, I will bite your ankles clean off!”
Celeste’s ears flicked. “…Oh, goodness…” she whispered, eyes wide.
The Centerpied loomed over her, his grotesque rat face stretching into a toothy grin, syrup dripping from his fangs. His many limbs clicked against the floor as he leaned close.
“A pureblood,” he rasped, voice syrupy and cruel. “And such fire. You’d make a fine warrior… but our master has other plans. You are to be kept… intact.”
His words dripped with sickly reverence.
But Mezzo’s voice cut through the chamber from the far wall. Dangling upside-down in a gummy web, his arms bound, he was still running his mouth.
“Oi, listen here ya lumpy insect knockoff! I’ve survived worse than you, d’ye hear? Don’t make me come down there an’—”
The Centerpied turned his head slowly toward him. His grin widened. All teeth.
Mezzo’s voice cracked. “...Ah. Right. I’ll shut up now.”
The beast chuckled—a horrible sound, like bones tumbling in syrup. “I will enjoy eating you. But first… I want you to watch.”
He turned toward the last prisoner: Gordon, the penguin. His feathers were still pristine beneath the sticky glaze of fear, his eyes wide as the Centerpied raised a single claw. Between its fingers was a piece of glowing violet candy.
Celeste’s breath caught. “That’s… the Zygur candy. From the convention…”
Arcade’s voice hissed over comms. “No. No no no—if he forces that down—”
The penguin stammered, shaking. “N-no, wait! You don’t need to—look, I can help you! I—I know things, I’ve connections, I can—”
But the Centerpied didn’t let him finish. With a swift jab he rammed the candy between Gordon’s beak, clamping it shut until instinct forced the penguin to swallow.
The effect was immediate.
Gordon’s body convulsed, feathers blackening to a sludge-like chocolate tone, his limbs puffing and warping grotesquely. His eyes glazed, candy sheen coating them until nothing human remained. He jerked once, then stood, slack and trembling.
The Centerpied admired his work like a painter finishing a masterpiece. “Magnificent. Purebloods always make the finest molds.”
Mezzo strained against his bonds, his Irish brogue sharp with anger. “Wh-what the hell did you just do to him?!”
“They lose everything,” the beast crooned. “Their voices. Their memories. Their humanity. All gone. Replaced by something better…”
He tapped the penguin’s chest with a claw.
“Obedience.”
The twisted penguin twitched and fell perfectly still.
“And this one,” Mandibite purred, spreading his limbs like a showman, “is special. A little experiment. It cannot attack. It only reflects. Strike it, and your pain doubles. A mirror of vengeance.”
Mezzo’s jaw clenched, fury under his fear. “So that’s what you think we deserve, huh? To be turned into your bloody toys?”
“Not toys.” The Centerpied leaned close, eyes gleaming. “Tools. Told when to move, when to suffer. Isn’t that what your kind loves? Control?”
Mezzo tried to grin, but his voice wavered. “You’re a real laugh at parties, aren’t ya?”
The Centerpied chuckled darkly, tongue flicking. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a predator’s whisper. “Do you know the rhyme? ‘Sugar and spice, and everything nice…’ But for little boys—” His teeth gleamed. “Puppy dog tails.”
His claw reached toward Mezzo’s bound leg.
Mezzo’s breath hitched, terror breaking through his bravado. “Oh bollocks—”
The beast’s grin widened.
“And I am peckish.”
Chapter 45 : Heart of the Hive
Celeste's icy blue eyes scanned the chamber below as her heart pounded like war drums in her chest. The dome was immense, a grotesque hive lit by flickering candy-pink bioluminescence, its walls webbed with viscous strands of syrup and clusters of pulsing cocoons. Each one twitched — alive.
Mezzo hung from the far wall, gagged with licorice rope, his limbs twitching as the Centerpied loomed below him. Nearby, the chubby peach rabbit writhed against thick jelly strands as the monster hissed in amusement, toying with her resolve.
The chocolate-marshmallow abomination that had once been the penguin stood idle, its round belly rising and falling with eerie, silent breaths. Waiting.
Ray crouched beside Celeste, her amber eyes focused, tail flicking in anticipation. Pitch leaned over the balcony, cradling Lady Luck — his shotgun fashioned from playing cards, the suit symbols etched deep into its barrel. It had returned to him, humming with possibility.
Ray’s tail lashed, teeth bared. “They’re gonna rip him to shreds if we don’t move.”
Celeste shook her head quickly, voice soft but steady. “N-no, no, we can—we will stop them. But we have to be clever, aye? If we all run in swinging, we’ll just… break like biscuits.”
Her eyes darted upward, catching the web of pipes glistening above. She pointed, excitement flickering through her nerves. “There! The ones hissing, see? I can snap the valve, flood that whole bit of the floor—make the sugar fiends slip about.”
She looked back at Ray, hope lighting her expression. “You’re quick. You knock the big one off its trotters while it’s distracted. And Pitch—” she gestured to the steel walkway overhead, “—that ledge curves right ‘round. You could sneak along it to Mezzo, aye?”
Pitch tilted his head, squinting. “…And if all that goes belly-up?”
Celeste hesitated a beat, then smiled sheepishly, blades half-drawn with a metallic click. “Then… we make something up. That’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”
Ray groaned, but her lips twitched like she couldn’t help the smirk. “Bloody hell. Fine. Let’s make a mess.”
Celeste moved like a shadow, leaping down a rusted ladder to a maintenance platform above the west wall. She found the valve — corroded but intact. With a deep breath, she slammed the hilt of her weapon into the metal.
The pipe shrieked. Then it ruptured.
A high-pressure blast of water exploded from the wall, drenching the chamber’s floor in seconds. Sugar rushers screeched, dissolving into goo as their bodies hissed and collapsed.
The Centerpied turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “Clever.”
Ray took the cue, vaulting over the railing, slamming boots-first into the ground and rolling into a sprint. Her hammer roared to life with kinetic pulses. She barreled toward the chocolate penguin and swung hard. The monster absorbed the hit, but reeled back, dazed. That was enough.
Up above, Pitch darted along the catwalk, muttering about “damn balance beams” as he raised Lady Luck. The card-barrel glowed faintly.
With perfect timing, he fired a shot — the blast knocked free the licorice cords binding Mezzo. The dog dropped hard, grunting on impact but alive.
“I said duck, not dive!” Pitch shouted.
Mezzo flipped him off mid-cough.
Celeste jumped down, knees absorbing the shock. Her boots splashed through the rising flood. The Centerpied lunged at Ray, but she danced back just in time — Celeste dove forward, sliding beneath its legs, and slashed a support pipe. Steam burst upward, briefly obscuring the creature’s vision.
“We’ve got seconds!” she shouted, grabbing Mezzo’s collar.
“I was almost dinner,” he wheezed, but stumbled to his feet.
Ray shoulder-charged the Centerpied again, knocking it off balance as the boiling water hit its side. It shrieked, retreating for just a moment — just enough.
“Go! Up the side tunnel!” Celeste called.
As they ran, the Centerpied hissed behind them, skittering across the walls like a spider. The water had slowed it — but not for long.
Its many eyes gleamed a sickly caramel glow.
Then it lunged.
“Candy Chomp!”
The Centerpied’s jaws split wide, rows of crystalline teeth snapping down with a sound like shattering hard candy. The crunch echoed through the cavern as it crashed forward, mandibles dripping with syrupy venom.
Celeste barely rolled aside as the bite cracked through the stone where she’d stood, chunks of rock sheared clean in the sticky grip. The air reeked of caramelized sugar and burnt molasses.
Ray swung Heartbreaker up, sparks flying as the hammer clashed against the gnashing jaws. “It bites like a bloody jawbreaker!” she yelled, skidding back from the force.
The beast reared, body coiling, jaws clacking in a rhythm that promised the next strike would come even faster.
Mezzo’s ears flicked, a grin splitting his soot-streaked muzzle. “Great. A sugar millipede with anger issues. Just what I wanted today.”
Just before they could climb into the upper tunnel, the Centerpied lunged from the shadows, its long ratlike face twisted in a grin of hunger. It struck downward with impossible speed, aiming straight for Celeste’s chest.
Time slowed.
Celeste twisted, channeling every ounce of precision she had — then slashed upward.
Steel met flesh.
Wings of Grace.
A swirl of feathers burst into the air, scattering like radiant embers. For an instant, Celeste vanished in the flurry, the jaws closing on empty space.
She reappeared in a flicker of light behind the monster, twin katanas gleaming with borrowed fire from Mezzo’s lingering aura. With a sharp cry, she slashed upward in a cross that carved clean through the centipede’s hardened candy shell.
The Centerpied froze, a shudder rattling down its massive length.
Then its body split, segments cracking apart in a cascade of sticky syrup and shattered sugar. It collapsed in two smoking halves, the crash echoing through the tunnels like thunder wrapped in sweetness.
Celeste landed lightly, her ribbons trailing, blades dripping molten sugar. She exhaled slowly, heart hammering.
For a moment, silence followed Celeste’s strike. The Centerpied’s massive body sagged, split cleanly in two by her blazing blades. Segments twitched, syrup dripping into steaming pools on the stone floor.
Then came the screech.
High-pitched. Piercing. Wrong.
Both halves of the Centerpied convulsed violently, sugar shells cracking and splintering like glass under pressure.
“Split and Swarm!”
The body burst apart with a sickening crunch, shards of candy scattering like shrapnel. From the wreckage, dozens of smaller forms poured out—twisting, gnashing things. Not full centipedes anymore, but a horde of scuttling hybrids, each no bigger than a rat but armed with glinting mandibles and burning sugar-venom.
They hit the floor in a rush, skittering across the stone in every direction. Their claws scratched out a frantic chorus as they swarmed toward the gang, eyes glowing with the same sickly caramel light.
Mezzo swore, backpedaling as flames sparked off his fur. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! It was already bad enough as one!”
Pitch aimed his shotgun, eyes wide. “We made twins!”
Ray smashed Heartbreaker into the floor, crushing three of the things in a single blow. “Spread out! Don’t let ‘em box us in!”
Skye flicked his deck, cards glowing in a frantic fan. “There’s too many!”
Celeste spun, ribbons flashing, her breath ragged. The battle wasn’t over. The real fight had just begun.
The smaller centipede-rats poured across the cavern floor, a tidal wave of skittering claws and gnashing mandibles. Their screeches rang out in disharmony, echoing off the stone until it was almost deafening.
Celeste tightened her grip on her katanas, ribbons whipping behind her as light gathered along the blades. “Not this time,” she whispered.
She darted forward, slashing once, twice—two rapid light strikes that carved through the nearest swarm, their sugar-shell bodies bursting in sparks of syrup.
Then she pivoted, channeling her strength into a third heavy cut.
Nova Spiral.
Her blades crossed, and with a cry, she spun into a whirling surge of light. The ribbons flared outward, wrapping her in a cyclone of glowing steel. The spiral burst outward in a radiant wave, shredding the rat-swarm around her and knocking the rest back in a glowing circle.
The swarm hit the cavern walls, scattering in hisses of molten sugar. For a heartbeat, the battlefield cleared, starlight shimmering in Celeste’s wake.
She skidded to a halt, chest heaving, blades dripping syrup. Her blue eyes flared as she lifted her katanas back into guard. “Come on,” she whispered to the skittering shapes regrouping in the shadows. “I’m not done yet.”
The chamber echoed with the sharp clatter of boots, the hiss of metal, and the snarling skitter of the twin abominations. Every swing, every shot, every desperate strike only made things worse.
Celeste slashed low—clean cut, fluid motion—but as the blade severed one of the Centerpied’s new forms, it only gave birth to two smaller versions.
They twitched.
They grinned.
They came for her again.
"Don’t cut them!" Ray shouted between swings of her hammer. “You’re multiplying them!”
"Bit late for that!" Mezzo barked, stumbling backward as two child-sized Centerpieds lunged at his legs. He kicked one into a wall, but it just rebounded, rubbery and relentless. “This is like fighting candy-covered worms from hell!”
Ray turned, slamming her hammer down. One creature was reduced to pulp—but another skittered up her back and nearly latched onto her neck. She grabbed it, snarled, and threw it across the room. Her chest heaved with exertion. “They're learning. Getting faster.”
The swarm pressed closer, a seething tide of sugar-rats scuttling across the cavern floor. Their mandibles clicked in unison, filling the air with a horrible, insectile rhythm.
Ray planted her feet, her hammer glowing hotter in her grip. “Alright, sweet tooths. Let’s clear the floor.”
She spun once, muscles coiled tight, dragging Heartbreaker in a wide, sweeping arc.
Molten Sweep.
The hammer scraped across the stone with a thunderous CRACK, sparks exploding outward before erupting into a blazing crescent of purple fire. The ground scorched in its path, a burning arc that carved straight through the swarm.
Centipede-rats shrieked as the flame caught them, bodies sizzling into bubbling syrup before collapsing into ash. The crescent blaze lingered for a heartbeat, forming a scorched barrier of fire that kept the rest at bay.
Ray straightened, embers curling from her mane, hammer still glowing in her paws. “Anyone else want to step up?”
The swarm hissed but hesitated, their advance slowed by the purple fire licking across the cavern floor.
Pitch stood atop a cracked ledge, Lady Luck blazing with each shot. Cards burst from the barrel in sharp bursts of magic, but it wasn’t fast enough. “They’re multiplying faster than I can deal,” he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice.
Attack - Shadow Flush
Pitch flicked his wrist, and Lady Luck roared to life in his grasp. Shadows curled around the barrel like smoke from a gambler’s cigar.
“Let’s make this interesting.”
He pulled the trigger.
Five spectral cards burst forth in a rapid spread, whistling through the air like razors—red backs glinting in the gloom. They struck the enemy in perfect rhythm, thudding one after another into its chest.
The fifth card shimmered, twisting mid-flight as though it had a mind of its own. It curved on a streak of violet fire, homing straight into the creature’s heart. The impact detonated in a critical burst, a spray of embers scattering into the night.
Pitch spun Lady Luck lazily on his finger, lips curling into a smirk. . “Flush.”
Chapter 46 : Whammy Barrage
The chamber had descended into chaos. Bracer’s voice was sharp in their ears, every word clipped with urgency.
“Sugar Rushers. Dozens. Converging on your position—hold your ground or get swallowed.”
Arcade was already sweating through his hoodie, fingers flying across his hacked terminal, rerouting the old security system. Sparks lit the ceiling as vents hissed open, dropping rusted shutters between swarms to buy precious seconds.
“Come on, come on…” he muttered, teeth bared. “Overclock, damn you!”
Mandibite slithered through the melee like a nightmare given flesh, claws slicing, antennae twitching with cruel delight. His many limbs pinned Ray’s hammer against the wall and sent Pitch sprawling with a guttural roar.
Then his shadow loomed over Skye.
“Little mouse…” Mandibite crooned, rat face splitting into a manic grin. “I want to hear you squeal.”
He raised a claw to crush him.
Skye’s hands shook, but he didn’t hesitate. He yanked a card from his launcher and slammed it in.
A wizard spirit burst from the glyph-light, robes flaring, staff raised. With a flash of blue flame—
Skye vanished, reappearing clinging to a catwalk high above the chamber.
Arcade’s voice cracked with sheer relief.
“Thank Motherlight you had that card!”
Skye, breathless but smug, called down “Told you—I’m smarter than you think!”
Arcade actually laughed, but it was short-lived—because Celeste, charging forward with her blades raised, tripped.
“Oh—oh goodness, oh no—!”
She stumbled, slammed headfirst into a heavy steel door—and it swung wide with a thunderous bang, smashing square into Mandibite’s face.
The creature reeled back, shrieking in rage.
Arcade blinked at his console, stunned.
“Wait—what? That door was locked. I couldn’t override it…”
Mandibite’s laughter silenced him. It was low. Wet. Filled with fury.
The beast twisted, body coiling like a serpent, and before anyone could move he had wrapped himself tight around Celeste.
She gasped, blades slipping from her hands as the pressure forced the air from her lungs. His massive head lowered until his reeking breath fogged her glasses, his eyes boring straight into hers.
“ASTALLAN,” he hissed, voice breaking into a scream that shook the chamber.
“No. More. Running.”
Mandibite’s claws dug into the stone as his massive head lowered until it filled Celeste’s vision. His eyes burned—madness layered over grief.
“You abandoned us,” he snarled, every word vibrating through her ribs. “You knew we were suffering, and you didn’t have the balls to end it. Yorath begged you—and you walked away like a coward. I can still hear Branwen’s screams, Kenaz. I thought we were brothers.”
Celeste’s whole body shook. Her breath hitched, heart pounding against his crushing grip.
“I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I’m not Kenaz. I’m… Celeste.”
“Liar!” Mandibite’s spittle hissed against her fur, his coils tightening. “You said the Council would help. You’re a liar. FIX my head! Fix the voices screaming in the dark—you lied!”
Celeste froze, her mind racing. And then—through sheer instinct—she reached out with one trembling paw and stroked a patch of fur beneath his jaw. Gentle. Almost tender.
“Who were you?” she whispered. “Before this? What did you used to do?”
The great beast faltered. His many eyes blinked, and for the first time the madness cracked. His ratlike snout trembled.
“I… was…” His voice shifted, soft, almost human. “I was a courier. One of the best.”
Celeste’s lips quivered into the faintest smile, tears in her eyes. “You still are.”
For a heartbeat, his face softened. The monster seemed smaller. A man in a cage of sugar and rage, realizing what he had become.
But then it was gone. His eyes flared crimson. His jaws split wide with a scream of madness.
“You’re my meat, little cat,” he roared. “Let’s hear how your screams sound—when I start with your limbs!”
The coils tightened. Celeste screamed.
CRACK.
Mandibite’s head snapped sideways, a spray of sugar shards exploding into the air.
Mezzo stood behind him, guitar still vibrating from the strike, chest heaving, eyes blazing.
He grinned through his panting. “Now we’re even.”
Celeste gasped as Mezzo’s strike sent Mandibite staggering. She slumped against the wall, dragging herself upright with bloodied claws. Her body was trembling, but the wall’s faint glow pulsed through her core. She pressed her palms flat, forcing the warmth to spread—not just into herself, but into Mezzo sprawled beside her.
The glow rippled outward like a tide.
Mezzo blinked, chest heaving, bruises fading as the fire in his veins steadied.
“Bloody hell, Princess… that’s new.”
Before Celeste could answer, Ray and Pitch crashed into the fray.
Ray roared, Heartbreaker slamming down with enough force to shake the stone. “GET AWAY FROM HER!” The shockwave staggered Mandibite back a step, cracks splintering across his chitin.
Mezzo picked himself up, wiped blood from his lip, and grinned wildly. “Round two, you sugar-coated rat!” His guitar flared, fire licking the strings as he dove in beside her, strikes coming in fierce, fast chords.
Madibite shook its massive head, snapping its candy-fangs, still dazed from attack. It staggered forward, claws gouging sugar-stone, the ground shivering under its bulk.
Mezzo spat into his paw, grinning. “Alright, sweet-tooth. Time t’feel the music.”
His guitar shimmered into being, and with a reckless spin he jammed the whammy bar down hard.
The strings screamed.
Sound warped into a jagged wall, a surge of discordant waves that tore across the battlefield in a cone of raw noise. Windows of crystallized sugar around them cracked and splintered. The very air seemed to shudder, bending with the vibration.
Madibite took the brunt of it. The blast slammed into its chest, sending ripples through its gum-hide. It reeled back, eyes flashing wide as its whole body convulsed, the sound stunning it into a rigid spasm.
The Sugar Rushers nearby shrieked and collapsed, their cube-forms rattling apart like brittle dice.
Mezzo leaned into it, every push and pull of the bar unleashing another shriek, each wave slamming harder, sharper, until even his teammates had to cover their ears.
“Ya like that, ya sticky bastard?!” he roared over the cacophony, grin manic and wild.
When he finally yanked the whammy bar free, the noise cut out sharp, leaving only the ringing echo in their skulls.
Madibite swayed drunkenly, stunned, smoke curling off its gum-flesh where the sound had torn through.
Mezzo rolled his shoulders, striking a dramatic chord just because he could. “Whammy. Barrage.”
Ray groaned, shaking her head. “I swear, you’re more dangerous to my ears than to them.”
Pitch’s shotgun, Lady Luck, boomed from the sidelines—each blast flaring with chaotic bursts of mana. He barked over the din, “Rushers! Left flank!”
Madibite’s jaws snapped shut with a crack like breaking glass, candy fangs grinding as he lunged for Ray. She braced, hammer raised—too slow this time.
A puff of smoke bloomed at her side.
Pitch was gone.
Madibite hesitated, his molten eyes scanning the haze. Then came the click of a chamber snapping into place.
“Boo.”
The wolf hybrid reappeared behind him, stepping out of the smoke as though it were a curtain. Lady Luck, his shotgun, gleamed wickedly in the half-light.
The blast tore free with a roar. Cards flared like glowing shrapnel, each edge glinting as they spun into Madibite’s back. The monster staggered, howling as sugar-flesh cracked and peeled beneath the scatter.
Before it could whirl around, Pitch had already ghosted back into the smoke, vanishing from sight once more.
Ray exhaled sharply, her hammer steady again. “Show-off.”
Somewhere in the mist, his voice chuckled low, sly as a gambler with a winning hand. “Only when the stakes are high, love.”
Madibite twisted, snarling, trying to track him. But the battlefield had changed—the monster was no longer the hunter. With Pitch lurking just out of sight, smoke curling like phantom cards in the dark, it was prey.
The shadows giggled, high and sharp. Sugar Rushers spilled from the cracks like a tide, skittering across the walls and ceiling.
Skye’s voice cut through, steady despite the chaos. “On it.” He loaded a card into his launcher—snap—and a spectral fire witch flared to life, her spells arcing into the horde. Flames scattered the Rushers, lighting the chamber in orange bursts.
Madibite’s claws swept wide, syrup-slick and glowing with a warped spell circle. Candy-light surged outward, a wave of sickly magic meant to engulf them all.
“Brace!” Ray yelled, throwing her hammer up as a shield.
But Skye’s paw was already at his deck. The cards shimmered, his fingers trembling for only a heartbeat before confidence sparked in his eyes. He snapped the holder open, the deck fanning wide like a radiant wing.
“Not today!”
The cards burst with light.
A flare of pure brilliance erupted, every card reflecting the monster’s twisted glow and throwing it back tenfold. The wave of corrupted magic bent, recoiling, bouncing harmlessly off into the cracked walls of the ruin.
Madibite staggered, shrieking as the reflected blaze struck its own hide. Its molten eyes flared, then squeezed shut against the glare.
The battlefield itself glittered with refracted light, the air filled with gleaming motes.
Ray peeked from behind her hammer, blinking rapidly. “You could’ve warned us!”
Mezzo laughed, already strumming a riff to chase the chaos. “What, and ruin the drama?”
Skye snapped the deck shut with a flick, his ears still twitching from the echo of light. “Mirror Flare,” he murmured, almost to himself, as the monster writhed in temporary blindness.
And in that stolen moment of darkness for Madibite, the group had their opening.
All the while, Celeste pressed her palms harder to the wall, her glow deepening. Her wounds closed, yes—but something stranger rippled outward.
Ray blinked mid-swing as the ache in her muscles ebbed. “What the—”
Mezzo’s grin widened as the sting of cuts vanished from his arms. “Oi, I feel bloody fantastic!”
Even Skye flinched, looking at his own hands as mana steadied. “It’s… it’s her. She’s healing all of us.”
Pitch reloaded and fired again, a rare awe breaking his gruff tone. “Motherlight above… she’s a conduit.”
Celeste’s voice cracked as she forced herself to focus. “Just… keep them off me!”
Her eyes were bright, burning with both fear and determination. The chamber echoed with the clash of hammer, guitar, gun, and spell, while at its center, Celeste’s light pulsed stronger—binding them together, each heartbeat syncing as one.
And Mandibite, snarling, realized his prey was no longer fractured.
They were a pack.
Chapter 47 : The Sugargrave Labyrinth
The chamber shook with each crash of weapon against flesh, candy gore spraying the walls. Celeste staggered upright, light spilling from her chest in stubborn pulses that reached her friends. They drew breath easier, their wounds closed faster. Her healing aura tethered them all.
Her katanas flared into being, their edges shimmering. She clutched them tight even though her arms trembled. “I… I won’t stop.”
Mandibite loomed from the shadows, grotesque body curling around her like a cage. His ratlike muzzle stretched into a grin, saliva dripping between jagged teeth.
“You always were a stubborn moggy, Kenaz,” he hissed, voice low and venomous. His claws scraped sparks against the stone floor. “No matter how many times I rip you apart, you drag yourself back up.”
Celeste’s heart lurched. “No—wait, I’m not—”
But he didn’t hear her. Or wouldn’t. His pupils twitched, madness locking her into his memory.
“You walked away. Left us to rot. And now… you wear that cursed face, still standing in front of me like you can pretend you’re not guilty.”
Celeste shook her head desperately. “I’m not him! I’m Celeste!”
Mandibite roared, slamming his claws into the ground so hard the stone cracked.
“Liar! You carry his stink, his blood, his cowardice. Don’t you dare tell me you’re anyone else. You’re Kenaz—and I’ll tear the truth out of you with my teeth.”
His grotesque body coiled, every limb straining like a predator about to strike.
Ray stepped in front of Celeste, hammer raised high. “She’s not Kenaz, you lunatic—”
Mezzo cut her off, flames sparking along his guitar as he squared up. “Then we’ll just have to beat that through his thick skull.”
Pitch chambered another round in Lady Luck. “Or blow it straight out.”
Skye’s voice was soft but firm, eyes on Celeste. “He doesn’t see you. But we do.”
Mandibite’s many eyes glowed with sick hunger as he lunged, his voice cracking with hate and grief:
“No more running, Kenaz. This time—you die screaming.”
The chamber shook as he crashed into them, the fight reigniting with deafening fury.
The Knights pressed forward, flames and steel tearing gaps into the tide of centipede-rats. Purple fire scorched across the cavern in Ray’s crescent arc, and Celeste’s spiral of ribbons carved a path of starlight through the chaos.
The Centerpied’s halves writhed at once, syrup bubbling from its broken shells. Its many eyes burned brighter, pupils dilating into glowing beads of caramel. Then it convulsed, slamming its shattered bulk against the cavern floor.
“Sugar Spawn!”
The ground shook.
Gumballs rattled loose from its segmented body, scattering in every direction like marbles. They bounced, rolled, then split open with sticky cracks. From each sphere crawled another tiny creature—rats, but made of syrup and floss, their eyes glowing like candied coals.
They hit the floor with wet plops, squeaking as they joined the swarm. The cavern filled with the sound of claws on stone, the number of enemies doubling in seconds.
“Are you kidding me?!” Mezzo shouted, feathers singed, his axe already sticky with syrup. “It’s spawning more!”
“Then keep cutting!” Ray roared, hammer slamming another group into molten paste.
Celeste’s stomach twisted at the sound of the newborn creatures, each one squealing like a toy before lunging with gnashing sugar-teeth. Her grip tightened on her blades. This wasn’t just a fight anymore—it was survival.
C.H.I.P. thundered into the melee, chrome gleaming under the flickering lights. His arms snapped forward like hydraulic pistons, sending a Centerpied-spawn sprawling into a cracked wall.
“Target acquired. Applying corrective violence!” he chirped brightly, as though announcing the next move in a children’s game. A shockwave pulse detonated from his chassis, the floor trembling as the candy creatures reeled back.
“Chip?!” Celeste gasped, eyes wide.
“Engage combat protocol!” Arcade’s voice cut through the chaos as he sprinted into the chamber, goggles skewed and his tablet swinging at his side. He jabbed a claw at his creation. “Big mode, now—maximum output!”
C.H.I.P. whirred, panels shifting and folding. His small frame expanded, limbs elongating with a clatter of pistons and candy-colored plating until he loomed nearly twice as tall. The cheerful glow of his eyes didn’t change, even as his fists sparked with dangerous voltage.
Skye’s relief broke through the roar of battle. “Arcade—you came to help!”
Arcade skidded to a halt, panting, half-buried in wires but managing a sharp grin. “I saw him grab Celeste on the camera feeds—so I figured I’d better step in before we’re all taffy.” He shoved his cracked goggles higher on his snout. “Consider this… preventative maintenance.”
C.H.I.P. slammed both fists into the ground, sending another crackling shockwave through the floor. Several of the sugar-spawn exploded in sticky bursts, their squeals cut short.
Ray gave a sharp bark of laughter as she caved in another swarm with Heartbreaker. “About bloody time, nerd!”
Mezzo spun his guitar in a wide arc, slicing down another wave of syrup-rats. “Not complainin’, but next time maybe don’t wait ‘til after the big bug births an army!”
Arcade bristled, fiddling with a control pad in his paw. “Do you want optimization or improvisation? You can’t have both!”
“Less arguing, more smashing please!” Celeste cried, her ribbons blazing with light as she cut a path toward the towering Mandibite again.
The cavern pulsed with combat, every strike shaking the chamber as the Knights—and their allies—dug in for the fight of their lives.
Arcade crouched on the balcony above, fingers dancing over his wrist display, voice sharp and cutting through the din. “C.H.I.P., I need those things boxed in, not free-range! Cut their angles before they cut us.”
“Understood, Arcade,” the robot replied, one optic flaring red, the other blue. “Flank denial mode: engaging maximum inconvenience.”
Panels along his arms split open, spinning discs ejecting in a spiral pattern. They embedded into the walls and floor, humming before releasing arcs of blue static—forming a crackling perimeter that penned the monsters closer to the center.
Arcade allowed himself the briefest smirk, though his tone stayed clipped. “Finally. A plan executed with precision instead of brute improvisation. Try not to ruin it.”
Ray, panting at Celeste’s side, shot him a glare. “If you’ve got more of those toys, now would be the time to share.”
Arcade’s lips curved into that smug half-smile. “Oh, I always share. Just… selectively.”
The cavern reeked of scorched sugar, the swarm still writhing even as the Knights hacked them down. The Centerpied’s halves twisted violently, syrup bubbling from their split shells.
Then its mandibles spread wide.
“Chewer’s Cloud!”
From deep in its gullet, the monster vomited a wave of syrupy fog, thick and cloying as melted candy. The mist rolled out in choking plumes, sweet and sickly, coating the air in a haze so dense the torches dimmed.
Celeste gagged, her throat burning as her vision blurred. “I—I can’t see!”
Every breath felt sticky, lungs heavy as though she were drowning in sugar. Her steps slowed, legs dragging through the fog as her ribbons tangled around her ankles.
Ray swung blindly, hammer crunching into stone instead of flesh. “Damn it—I can’t tell where they’re coming from!”
Skye’s cards scattered from his paw, falling uselessly into the mist before he snapped his launcher shut in frustration. “It’s messing with focus—I can’t track them!”
Through the haze, the smaller sugar-rats squeaked, their glowing eyes multiplying as they scuttled closer.
Mezzo coughed hard, flames sputtering against the damp air. “It’s… thick enough to snuff me out.” He wiped syrup from his muzzle and bared his teeth. “We need a clean shot, now.”
The fog swirled tighter, clinging like spiderwebs, every breath a fight. The Knights were blind, slowed, and surrounded.
The sugary fog thickened, sticking in the groups throats until every breath felt like swallowing syrup. The swarm’s squeaks grew louder, closer, but no one could see more than a few feet through the haze.
Arcade’s ears twitched. His eyes darted to the glowing blue sparks dancing across his fingertips, his stabilizer chip pulsing against his neck. “We can’t fight blind. This fog’s their playground.”
“Then what do we do?” Skye coughed, paw over his nose.
Arcade clenched his jaw, glancing at Celeste through the blur. “We burn it off.”
He raised both hands. Sparks leapt between his claws, swelling into arcs that danced wildly up his arms. His voice was low, grim: “This’ll sting.”
He thrust his palms outward.
A crackling wave of lightning surged through the fog, splitting the cavern with a deafening CRACK. The sugary mist ignited in a blinding flash, vaporizing into a rolling wave of caramelized smoke.
The Centerpied shrieked, its body convulsing as arcs of lightning tore across its syrup-coated shell, charring chunks of candy armor. Smaller spawns popped like chestnuts in the blaze, their screeches silenced in bursts of fire.
But the group wasnt spared.
Celeste cried out as the charge danced across her ribbons, searing her arms. Ray gritted her teeth, purple flame sputtering as arcs burned into her fur. Mezzo staggered, guitar smoking, every cord buzzing with residual shock.
When the light faded, the fog was gone—but so was their strength. The Centerpied writhed in pain, chunks of its body sloughing off, but its eyes still glared, furious and wild.
Arcade dropped to one knee, smoke curling from his chestplate. He gave a ragged, breathless laugh. “See? Told you it’d sting.”
Celeste winced, clutching her side, but managed a shaky smile. “It… worked.”
But the Centerpied wasnt finished yet.
Celeste pressed her back to the beam, breath catching, hands trembling as the faint glow of her healing spilled over the group like a cracked lantern’s light. It dulled the worst of their wounds, but her chest throbbed with every pulse. I can’t keep this up…
The creatures shrieked in answer, their voices scraping like sugar glass.
Ray staggered beside her, paw clamped to her side, blood seeping between her fingers. She winced. “You realise the more you glow, the more they scream? Feels like we’re ringing the bloody dinner bell.”
Celeste shook her head quickly, too weary to argue but unable to stop. “I… I don’t have another way. If I stop, you’ll fall—and I can’t let that happen.”
Mezzo dove into cover with them, chest heaving, grin flashing through his exhaustion. “Alright—mad idea time. What if—hear me out—we don’t kill them? We trap ‘em. Trick ‘em. I dunno, chuck ‘em in a giant candy jar and call it a day.”
Ray shot him a look, teeth bared. “Brilliant. Got a candy jar the size of a bus on you, do you?”
Mezzo shrugged, half-laughing despite the fear sparking in his eyes. “I’ve got charm. Sometimes it works better than a sword.”
Celeste’s claws scraped faintly against the stone as she whispered, almost to herself, “There has to be a gentler way… even if it sounds foolish.” Her eyes flicked toward the writhing cocoons in the shadows, and her stomach turned. “Because I think… killing them won’t end this. Not really.”
Pitch shouted from above, “They’re cornering us!”
Celeste’s blue eyes locked onto the distant wall—something clicked.
“No… they’re not.”
Ray turned. “What?”
“They’re… they’re not chasing us just to eat,” Celeste murmured, rising slowly, her blade’s glow flickering like a heartbeat. “They’re steering us. Like sheep. Toward those cocoons—toward the middle of it all.”
Mezzo’s ears flicked back, dagger trembling in his grip. He tried for a grin but it came out thin. “Grand. And what’s waiting at the middle, then? A bloody raffle prize?”
Celeste’s eyes lingered on the cocoons, the faint silhouettes twitching within their sticky shells. Her stomach tightened. “I—I don’t know. But these creatures… they feel like pieces on a board. Someone else is playing the game.”
The floor gave a low shudder.
Both Centerpieds shrieked, lunging forward in perfect unison.
Celeste snapped to the others, voice clear despite the fear hitching beneath it. “Fall back—we need to breathe, to think. There’s another way, I know there is.”
Ray bared her teeth, tail lashing. “Think faster, blondie—where the hell do you want us to fall back to?”
Celeste’s claws tightened on her hilts, her glow flaring brighter. She swallowed, then answered softly but with steel in her tone:
“Deeper. We go deeper.”
They ran.
Chapter 48 : When Time Breaks, We Burn
Every corridor they darted toward twisted into a dead end of skittering limbs. The Centerpied's spawn—smaller now, more numerous—had grown cunning. They converged, their sticky, sugar-twisted bodies piling high and hardening into a wall of twisted forms. Like children molding clay, they fused into a grotesque shape.
And then, from the center of the mass, a familiar sneer emerged.
The Centerpied's rat face stretched grotesquely across the surface of the wall, its lips curling into a syrupy, glistening grin. Dozens of red eyes blinked in unison across the surface, and it mocked them without words.
Celeste staggered to a stop, breath caught in her throat.
“We’re out of time,” she murmured. Her blade drooped in her hand, glowing faintly.
C.H.I.P. rotated his arms. “Warning. No viable exit. Suggest initiating last stand protocol.”
Ray tightened her grip on her hammer, eyes narrowing. “You’re way too chipper for a robot about to die.”
C.H.I.P. paused, processing, then his voice shifted. C.H.I.P. spun his arms with a dramatic beep. “Great news, everyone—no exit. Looks like we’re stuck here for a little group hug. Suggesting last stand protocol, because what else can we do? Yay.”
Arcade glanced over from his tablet. “Whoa. What did you do to Ray?”
Ray smirked. “I hope that’s not permanent.”
Mezzo gulped. “I guess I always figured I’d go out cooler than this…”
Pitch didn’t speak—his cards were spent, his breath gone. The old confidence had cracked.
And then—
Everything slowed.
Time itself seemed to buckle, as though the world had paused to listen.
The wall of enemies twitched, stirred. The chittering lessened. The air changed.
The horde parted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And from the corridor beyond, an old figure in a thick coat and dust-covered boots stepped through the stillness as if out for an evening stroll. His expression was unbothered. His pace leisurely. His eyes calm behind cracked lenses.
And from the corridor beyond, two figures stepped through the stillness. An old goat in a battered coat, dust clinging to his boots, strolling as though he’d simply taken the wrong turn home. And beside him, a small golden glow—Lumina, her hands alight, eyes determined despite the exhaustion pulling at her cheeks.
Hughes exhaled through his nose, brushing sticky threads from his shoulder. “Really?” he muttered, tone dry as ash. “I leave you lot alone for one mission and you turn the sewers into a bloody dessert buffet apocalypse.”
The swarm faltered as they passed, as though some invisible pressure pressed against them. Frost spread under Hughes’ boots, creeping over stone. The air grew sharp, crisp, biting.
“Hughes…?” Celeste gasped, her voice cracking.
With a grunt, the old goat adjusted the pack on his shoulder and cracked his neck. “Had to walk half of Clawdiff Sewers on foot. At my age. You know what that does to my knees?”
Lumina tugged at his coat, her glow steady but her voice small. “We… we got lost. In the tunnels. But then… then we heard the screaming.” She blinked, looking right at Celeste. “Yours.”
Celeste’s breath hitched.
The swarm shifted uneasily, sugar claws scraping against stone, but neither Hughes nor Lumina slowed.
“You’ve made a mess,” Hughes said flatly, frost curling from his cane as he finally stopped in the chamber. “Suppose it’s time to clean it up.”
He lifted one hand with Everstill his crook.
Attack - Finishing Move - Sands of Eternity
Hughes planted the butt of his crook into the ground, mana flaring up the length of the staff in a spiral of pale gold. With a twist of his wrist, he spun the weapon in a slow circle, tracing sigils into the air.
Above the battlefield, light gathered and bent, condensing into a colossal hourglass suspended in the sky. Its sand shimmered with pure mana, each grain glowing as it trickled downward.
The enemies lurched—first sluggish, then slower still, until their movements dragged like molasses. Every slash of claw, every twitch of muscle, dripped down like grains of sand, pulled inexorably into the hourglass’s narrowing throat. Within moments, the battlefield had fallen eerily silent, foes frozen mid-stride, trapped between seconds.
Hughes raised the crook high, his voice like a tolling bell: “Your time… has run out.”
With a sharp swing, he brought the crook down. The great hourglass shattered, glass and mana exploding outward in a shockwave.
All the stolen moments, all the drained momentum, came crashing back at once. The air detonated with the weight of every strike and every motion the enemies had been denied—slamming into them in a cataclysm of force.
The army crumpled in unison, crushed beneath the very seconds they had lost.
The cold snapped outward in a ring, washing over the horde. The smaller creatures froze mid-motion, their syrupy limbs locked in place as icy veins crept across them. The Centerpied’s rat face snarled—but even it backed away.
The team could breathe again.
Hughes stood beside them now, calm as stone, crook resting across his shoulder like he’d carried it through a thousand wars. He looked at the chamber ahead like he’d been here all along—like he belonged.
“You lot always have to make it bloody dramatic, don’t you?” His voice carried the rasp of age, deep and steady, every syllable edged with the roll of a Welsh lilt.
He lifted the crook, its tip glowing faintly with frost. “Go on then. Deal with the big one. I’ll keep the strays off your backs.”
The group stared, caught off guard by his sudden presence.
Ray broke first, grinning. “Took you long enough, old man.”
Hughes didn’t even glance at her. “Keep yappin’, girl, and I’ll let the next bastard chew on you first.”
That earned a laugh, quick and sharp, before the tension settled again.
The chamber was chaos—screams, steel, fire, sugar-chittering, the hiss of syrup against stone.
Hughes had already waded in, frost cracking under his cane as he froze a clutch of Sugar Rushers mid-lunge. But Lumina—wide-eyed and trembling—sprinted past him, her little shield raised too high.
“Lumina, wait—!” Celeste cried.
Too late. A Rushling spotted her, jaw dripping molten sugar, and bounded straight for her throat.
Lumina squeaked, her paws fumbling into a stance she’d half-seen Bracer drill into Celeste. “B-blossom… um… Blossom Feint!”
She spun clumsily on her heel. A burst of glowing petals scattered from her palms like confetti, blinding the creature for an instant. Her foot slipped on the syrup-slick stone, but somehow—through panic, instinct, or sheer luck—her blade flicked upward in a shaky slash.
Shrrk!
The Rushling shrieked as the cut split its candy-glass jaw, the petals burning into it like sparks before it collapsed, dissolving into syrup.
The little shield clattered from Lumina’s grip as she stumbled to the ground, blinking in shock. “I… I did it?”
Mezzo gawked mid-swing. “Did you see that?! She spun! That was like—like a dramatic anime dodge!”
Ray barked a laugh even as she crushed another zombie with her hammer. “More like she tripped into it, but hell, I’ll take it!”
Celeste’s chest swelled, relief cracking through her fear. “That was wonderful, Lumina!” she called, blades flashing as she leapt to cover her.
Lumina’s face flushed crimson. “N-not on purpose,” she stammered, scooping up her shield again. “But… maybe a little bit?”
Hughes smirked, frost misting from his breath. “Clumsy or not—it worked. Now keep swinging.”
Celeste drew a breath, her spine straightening, the fire sparking back in her limbs. “Then let’s finish this.”
Behind them, the wall of sugar and teeth split under a wave of frost. Before them, the final battle waited.
And this time, they weren’t alone.
Time hadn't just slowed—it had fractured, like a cracked lens struggling to hold the scene together.
Ray moved first, her hammer a blur of steel and fury.
Attack - Molten Sweep
The centipede shrieked, its armored body twisting as it barreled through a row of crumbling walls. Celeste and Mezzo slashed across its flanks, while Pitch’s storm of cards dazzled its many eyes. Still, the beast pressed forward, mandibles snapping.
Ray planted her feet, Heartbreaker glowing hot in her hands. Purple fire licked up the hammer’s haft as her eyes narrowed.
“Alright, big guy. Let’s turn up the heat.”
She spun in place, dragging Heartbreaker in a full, sweeping arc. The hammer carved a blazing crescent across the battlefield, the ground beneath it erupting in scorched violet flame. The shockwave caught the centipede’s front legs, searing its armored hide and forcing the creature to reel back with a screech.
The burning crescent lingered, fire crawling hungrily along the ground. Every enemy caught within the sweep howled as the purple blaze clung to their bodies, eating through chitin and shadow alike.
Ray swung Heartbreaker back onto her shoulder, embers crackling in her mane. “That’s right. Come on then—try me.”
The centipede’s hiss turned to a roar, its focus shifting squarely onto her.
Celeste and Mezzo supported from the edges—parrying, distracting, redirecting chaos.
The centipede’s armored bulk slammed against the shattered buildings, its mandibles clacking as it lunged. Celeste darted left, her katanas flashing, but the creature’s sheer size made every strike feel like cutting stone.
“Too slow, Princess!” Mezzo shouted, fire licking off his fur as he skidded past her. “Borrow a bit of this!”
Their eyes met for a split second—his grin wide, her breath ragged. She reached out, brushing his aura with her own. Mana surged into her veins, sparking like wildfire.
Her ribbons flared. Her heart hammered.
And suddenly she was moving like him.
Echo Arts - Mirror - Griffin Blitz.
Her speed doubled, every step leaving a comet trail of blue and silver. She dashed through the centipede’s legs in a blur, chaining slashes faster than her mind could keep pace. The air itself seemed to shatter under the rhythm, each cut a beat in a furious melody.
The monster shrieked, staggering as dozens of wounds bloomed across its carapace all at once.
Mezzo howled with laughter, flames trailing from his paws as he joined the assault, weaving in time with her impossible rhythm. Together, they became a storm—fire and starlight tearing through chitin and shadow in perfect tandem.
Pitch’s shotgun, made of layered playing cards, flared with each pull of the trigger, shells rippling through sugarflesh.
Combo - Dealer’s Distraction
The centipede’s many eyes gleamed red as it reared back, mandibles dripping venom. Celeste and Mezzo darted in opposite directions, but its gaze followed them both at once.
Pitch clicked his tongue, rolling a card across his knuckles. “Oi, ugly. Try keeping your eyes on the house rules.”
He snapped his wrist.
A glittering burst of cards exploded from his hand—dozens of glowing spades, hearts, and jokers spiraling into the air like a shower of confetti. They whirled around the centipede’s many faces, dazzling it in a kaleidoscope of shifting symbols.
The beast screeched, thrashing its head as the swarm of light distracted it, its strikes turning wild and clumsy. Venom spat harmlessly against the rubble, its aim thrown off completely.
Pitch smirked, twirling Lady Luck into position. “Heh. Guess accuracy isn’t your strong suit, bug boy.”
Behind the shimmer of cards, Celeste and Mezzo seized their opening—blades and fire striking true while the monster flailed in confusion.
C.H.I.P. followed, his circuits surging, launching calculated shockwaves.
The centipede reared back, mandibles snapping. Celeste ducked, Mezzo darted wide, and Ray braced with Heartbreaker—but before the monster could strike again, C.H.I.P. buzzed forward, circuits glowing hot.
“Alright, bug-face,” the little bot said flatly, sparks dancing across his antenna. “Time for pest control.”
He overloaded in a flash of light, body blurring into streaks of electricity.
WHAM! In mecha form, his first claw slammed into the centipede’s leg, cracking the chitin. BOOM! The second hit drove the limb sideways, forcing the beast to screech and stumble.
“Wow,” C.H.I.P. deadpanned, hovering back. “For something with a hundred legs, you trip real easy.”
He shrank back into his small form, boosters sputtering as he zipped straight up the monster’s face. With a little grunt, he slammed his head into the centipede’s skull—harder than anything his size had any right to manage.
BZZZT!
A spark burst exploded across the creature’s head, lightning crawling over its many eyes. The centipede shrieked, thrashing wildly as smoke poured from its scorched mandibles.
C.H.I.P. bounced back to the ground, antenna spinning smugly. “Headbutt complete. Target electro-fried. You’re welcome.”
Arcade groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Could you at least pretend to be humble?”
“Negative,” C.H.I.P. chirped, voice sharp and cheerful. “Humble doesn’t win boss fights.”
Chapter 49 : The House Always Wins
The centipede screeched, its legs hammering against the shattered street, mandibles snapping at anything that moved. Celeste and Mezzo darted along its flanks while Ray’s hammer blazed purple fire against its armor—but still the beast pressed forward, unbroken.
Then Skye stepped into its shadow. His ears flattened, his deck hovering in a shimmering spiral around him.
“Alright,” he muttered, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Let’s see what fate has for you.”
He reached into the spinning circle of cards. A glow flared at his fingertips as one slipped free—its surface alive with shifting runes.
Attack - Combo - Radiant Draw.
The card ignited, streaking with a brilliant tail of light as Skye hurled it forward. It spun once, twice, then struck the centipede square across its jointed midsection.
The chosen element flared—this time fire, erupting in a searing burst that tore through chitin and locked the monster’s movements in place. The centipede shrieked, legs spasming, its massive body buckling as it thrashed against the burning glyph.
Crippled, its speed collapsed, leaving it wide open. Celeste saw her chance and surged forward, ribbons gleaming.
Skye exhaled, drawing another card into his hand, his eyes glowing faintly. “Your luck’s run out, bug.”
One by one, the centipede’s fragments crashed to the ground—legs twitching, mandibles shattered. The monster reeled, its colossal body buckling in pieces beneath the combined fury of the survivors of Clawdiff.
But still, it clung to life. Its final, writhing segments slithered, dragging the beast forward in a grotesque crawl.
The cavern shook as the Centerpied’s ruined body convulsed one last time. Segments collapsed, syrup spilling in rivers across the cracked floor. From the wreckage, its head tore free—no longer a mass of candy and shell, but a crystallized sphere of hardened sugar, gleaming like a monstrous gemstone.
Its mandibles snapped back into the core, leaving only a jagged-toothed maw.
Then it screamed.
“Jawbreaker Core!”
The head launched skyward, ricocheting off the cavern walls with a deafening CRACK! Each impact shattered stone, pipes bursting as scalding steam hissed into the chamber. The core howled as it rebounded wildly, a glowing comet of sugar crystal smashing through pillars and walls alike.
The Knights scattered, every impact shaking the floor beneath them. Celeste dove to shield Bonbon, her katanas flashing as she deflected a spray of molten shards. Ray swung Heartbreaker into a rebound, knocking it aside, only for the core to carom back harder, faster.
It was chaos.
The core slammed into the ground, rebounded, then spun in midair with a keening wail. The sound rattled their skulls, syrup dripping from cracks in its crystalline hide.
And then—silence.
The core rolled to a stop in the center of the arena, glowing fissures splitting its surface. The Knights readied their weapons… but none of them moved. Their bodies were battered, their breaths ragged.
Pitch stepped forward.
Lady Luck spun lazily in his paw, the faint glow of spectral cards flickering around him. He smirked, though his eyes burned with sharp focus.
“Alright, sweet tooth,” he muttered, voice low. “You and me. One last hand.”
He flicked a single card into the air, catching it between two claws. His coin glinted under the cavern’s fractured lights.
The others watched, tense and silent, as Pitch leveled Lady Luck at the writhing core.
The gambler was placing the final bet.
Pitch twirled Lady Luck and sighed, brushing ash from his coat. “Persistent little bastard, aren’t you?”
He snapped his fingers.
Finishing Move - House Always Wins
Above the battlefield, a massive set of glowing casino reels shimmered into existence, spinning in a whirling storm of neon light and spectral flame. Ghostly coins rained down, chiming in the air as the reels clacked louder and louder.
The centipede hissed, thrashing toward him. Pitch leveled Lady Luck, eyes narrowing. “C’mon, house. Don’t fail me now.”
The reels slowed. Clack… clack… clack.
7. 7. 7.
Pitch’s grin widened. “Jackpot.”
The reels exploded outward in a shockwave of cards and spectral fire, the numbers searing across the battlefield. A colossal blast detonated beneath the centipede, engulfing its writhing body in a storm of violet and gold light. The creature screamed as the explosion tore through it, its many eyes bursting like shattered glass.
When the smoke cleared, only a single massive fragment of the centipede remained—cracked, smoldering, and still twitching.
Pitch blew the smoke from Lady Luck’s barrel, smirking. “House always wins.”
Only a single segment remained: a tiny, sugar-glazed thing, no larger than a thimble. He tried to escape but Ray scooped him up mid-scurrying. Pitch approached, arms folded tight, his expression carved from ice.
“Start talking,” he said. “Who’s pulling your strings? What’s the dragon planning?”
The creature twisted, then chuckled—low and bitter.
“The dragon?” it rasped. “Oh, little hybrid… the dragon is already awake. Has been for some time. We follow his orders now. He leads. He builds. He conquers.”
He twitched once, then suddenly stilled, eyes glinting with a strange melancholy.
“There was a time,” he whispered, “when even monsters had protectors.”
“What are you talking about?” Pitch asked.
“The dragon… it wasn’t always feared. It was revered by those like us—mythicals, creatures pulled from legends, hated more than hybrids, hunted like vermin. No rights. No names. Just subjects in cages.”
He shivered as if remembering a bitter winter.
“The government came to us. They said, ‘Help us win the war, and you’ll earn a place.’ And the dragon… he believed them. He led us. He bled for them. And when the fighting was done?”
He smiled bitterly.
“They locked him away.”
“Why?” Mezzo asked, quieter now.
“They were afraid. Afraid of what they created. Afraid of us. The dragon was too strong, too beloved. They couldn’t kill him—not outright. So they buried us in stone and secrets, and told the world we never existed.”
Ray’s grip tightened. “So what, this is revenge?”
“Oh no, dear fox,” he chuckled darkly. “This is prophecy.”
“Then who’s next?” Pitch demanded. “What is all this for?”
The Centerpied’s sugar eyes shimmered dark.
“It’s not about the dragon anymore. No. He’s just guards the vessel. The real plan… is for the demon, the void.”
The air seemed to still.
Ray’s grip tightened around the Centerpied’s jelly-slick body. “What demon?”
He snickered. “The one buried deep. The one the old myths tried to erase. Even we don’t say its name anymore. It sleeps beneath the foundations of this world... and when it wakes, it won’t be about justice, or revenge, or bloodlines.”
He looked directly at Celeste, eyes gleaming like molten syrup.
“It will be hunger. Pure, unending hunger.”
Celeste’s breath caught in her throat.
The Centerpied continued, voice a lullaby of ruin. “This war, these hybrids, the corruption, the candy—it’s all prelude. Noise. But once the demon stirs, your world becomes a feast. And every scream… a song.”
Mezzo stepped forward, his voice quieter now. “Then what are you in all this?”
“Appetizers.”
The Centerpied paused.
“But I....”
His many eyes, once wild with hunger, dimmed slightly. Something flickered inside them—like a candle guttering in a storm.
“I was a scout, A courier,” he said softly. “Once. Before all this candy rot. I mapped the tunnels beneath the world… warned the colonies… I mattered. I was someone the world needed.”
He tilted his head back, the gummy seams of his body trembling.
“I… I just wanted to feel like that again,” he whispered. “To be needed. To be seen.”
He looked toward the looming shape of the candyfloss dragon in the distance, glowing faintly in the haze of war.
“I hope to the dragon… I was, one last time.”
Then he smiled with what was left of his face.
His gaze snapped suddenly to Celeste, pupils quivering like stars about to collapse. “Kenaz… you need to stop the others. They can’t think—just instinct. Can you do that one last thing for me? Prove you’re not a coward.”
Celeste’s throat tightened. She pressed her paws to her blades, nodding. “I’ll try my best.”
For a heartbeat, relief softened his monstrous frame. Then the rot surged back, twisting him cruelly. His voice dropped into a guttural rasp.
“The darkness shall absorb all the stars in the sky… all of us… appetisers.”
He began to melt then, sugarbones collapsing into syrup and froth. His final laugh hissed as it slipped through the cracks in the stones beneath them—fading like something swallowed by the dark.
Silence clung like cobwebs.
LEVEL UP!
➤ Level 3 Achieved!
C.H.I.P. chirped brightly, his mechanical joints whirring softly.
“Entity neutralized! Yay! Mission accomplished! Now... initiating post-threat protocol. Because what else could be more fun?”
Pitch slowly holstered Lady Luck. “Soooo... demon, huh? We should probably not wake that one up.”
Ray was still staring at her paws. “He said ‘feast’... like we’re livestock.”
Celeste didn’t reply. She was staring into the dark where the Centerpied had vanished.
The team stood silent for a heartbeat after the Centerpied’s final hiss dissolved into the shadows. Mezzo rubbed his knuckles thoughtfully.
Suddenly, a cold chill swept through the room.
From the corner, a low mechanical rattle echoed.
The penguin zombie—once motionless, with glassy, empty eyes—now stirred. Hiseyes flickered to a ghostly, unnatural glow, an eerie green light pulsing within their sockets. Without warning, they snapped to life, emitting an unsettling series of clacks as they shuffled forward. One darted off toward the heavy vault doors that lined the far wall.
With a loud metallic grinding, the vault doors began to slowly creak open—revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond full of pods, Pitch and Ray worked hard to free them.
One by one, figures stepped into the flickering light.
Tall and regal, some draped in ornate robes; others gleaming with the raw power of their pureblood lineage. Mythics with shimmering scales and ethereal wings stood alongside hybrids whose features pureblod and mythic in uncanny harmony.
From the crowd, a familiar figure emerged—a pink bunny with soft eyes and a serene smile. Plum Clippings.
She stepped forward and reached out, shaking each team member’s hand with genuine gratitude.
“Thank you… for rescuing us,” she said softly. “We thought all hope was lost.”
Then her tone shifted, brighter, quicker, almost conspiratorial—like a journalist who’d caught the scent of something big. She tugged her news cap lower and pulled out a little notepad.
“Don’t mind the other purebloods,” Plum said, ears twitching with energy. “I’m very grateful. And… well, if you don’t know me, name’s Plum Clippings —blogger, reporter, all-around pain in the Council’s side. I’m here to tell the truth, no matter how messy it gets.”
Celeste blinked. “How… how do you know we’re hybrids?”
Plum’s grin turned sharp as she tapped her pen against the notepad. “Number one—the rune slots on the backs of your necks. Dead giveaway. Number two—that mana you just used? I’ve never seen anything like it. If you’ll let me, I’d love to feature your story. Share it far and wide. Make the purebloods see you not as troublemakers but as heroes.”
Pitch scoffed, twirling Lady Luck between his fingers. “We’re survivors, bunny. Not heroes.”
“Maybe,” Plum said, shrugging with a sly little smile. “But you could be. Maybe the start of hybrids getting the respect they’ve been craving.”
Ray folded her arms, hammer resting against her shoulder. “Maybe later. When we’re safe.”
Plum’s expression softened. She snapped her notepad shut and, without warning, hugged Celeste tight. “Thanks again. Really. Where are you staying?”
Celeste hesitated. “…The Egg Tree. In the park.”
Plum’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. I’ll meet you there—I need to get the scoop on this.” With that, she bounced off into the crowd, already muttering headline ideas under her breath.
Celeste stared after her, bewildered.
The rescued Mythics and Purebloods began to move toward the exit. But a group of Purebloods lingered, noses raised haughtily.
One scoffed loudly. “Mixed company,” she murmured disdainfully, eyes flicking over the hybrids. “Still, it’s… tolerable—for now.”
The hybrids exchanged uneasy glances as the purebloods turned away, their pride as sharp as their fangs.
Your story stands out with its creative mix of cute, candy-themed visuals and a surprisingly dark apocalypse, making the world feel both fun and unsettling at the same time.
Your story stands out with its creative mix of cute, candy-themed visuals and a surprisingly dark apocalypse, making the world feel both fun and unsettling at the same time.
Thank you so much for the comment it means the world to me :)