As the Council craft vanished into the clouds, the world seemed to lose its rhythm.
Celeste stood frozen as everything around her slid into slow motion—the drifting ash, the settling confetti scraps, the way people moved like they were wading through water. Voices reached her muffled and distant, stretched thin and unreal.
Her heart pounded too loud.
Too fast.
“Celi!”
Lumina stumbled toward her, small hands grabbing at her coat, eyes wide and shining with panic. “A-are they… are they going to turn us into batteries?”
The word hit like a blade.
Celeste dropped to her knees instantly, hands firm but gentle on Lumina’s shoulders. “No,” she said, without hesitation. “No, sweetie. I won’t let them. Ever.”
Lumina swallowed, clinging tighter.
“…Did the monster take Bonbon?”
The question landed softly.
Too softly.
Celeste’s breath caught.
The park, the chaos, the fight—it all rearranged itself in her mind in a single, awful click.
Of course.
Her gaze snapped toward the shattered street beyond the park gates.
The Minotaur hadn’t just taken fighters.
He’d taken people.
Celeste surged to her feet.
She broke into a run the moment she hit the street.
Mana rain still slicked the stones, the Minotaur’s path unmistakable—deep gouges, cracked pavement, the sour-sweet stink of candy rot hanging in the air like a trail of breadcrumbs. Hughes shouted after her, voice sharp with authority and worry, but she didn’t slow. Didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
Footsteps thundered beside her.
Mezzo matched her pace easily, breath controlled despite everything. “You’re thinking the same thing I am, right?”
Celeste nodded, eyes locked forward. “The Minotaur has her.”
Mezzo grimaced. “We barely survived him last time. You sure you want to find him?”
“I need to know where he took her,” Celeste said, voice tight but steady. “Then I can make a plan.”
They followed the trail deeper into the streets.
It wasn’t just destruction.
It was evidence.
Clothes lay scattered along the road—small jackets, torn shirts, a single shoe crushed into the mud. Toys had been dropped and trampled: a plush with one ear torn off, a wooden rattle split clean in half, candy wrappers clutched so tightly they’d been ripped.
Like the people taken had tried to leave something behind.
A message.
Council checkpoints lay smashed open, barricades folded and twisted as if made of tin. Armoured gates had been walked through, not breached—flattened under sheer mass. Burn marks and shattered turrets told the rest of the story.
Dead soldiers were gone.
Only blood, broken weapons, and drag marks remained.
Celeste swallowed hard.
“He’s not wasting anything,” Mezzo muttered darkly. “People. Kids. Even the dead.”
A sound cut through the rain.
Crying.
Celeste skidded to a stop and dropped to one knee, peering beneath an overturned car.
A small mythic drake huddled there, scales dull with fear, wings shaking as she sobbed.
“He—he took my dad,” the girl cried, clutching her own arms. “They dropped me and I ran. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—”
Celeste reached out slowly, careful not to startle her.
“You did exactly right,” Celeste said softly. “That was very brave.”
The drake looked up at her, eyes wide. “A-are you going to get him?”
Celeste’s throat tightened.
“I’m going to try,” she said honestly. Then, firmer: “You need to run to the park. Don’t stop. There are people there who will keep you safe.”
The girl hesitated—then nodded, scrambling to her feet.
“Thank you,” she whispered, before bolting down the street, wings pumping awkwardly as she ran.
Celeste watched her go.
Mezzo exhaled slowly. “How many more do you think we’re going to find like that?”
Celeste didn’t answer.
She broke into a run the moment she hit the next street.
Mana rain still slicked the stones, the Minotaur’s path unmistakable—deep gouges, cracked pavement, the sour-sweet stink of candy rot hanging in the air like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Her arcbracer screeched to life.
“CELESTE ASTALLAN—”
Ray’s voice blasted so loudly Celeste winced, nearly tripping. “You get back right now. You are not running off a second time!”
“I’m sorry,” Celeste said quickly. “I just need to check if he has her.”
“You are injured—!” Ray snapped. “You’re not thinking straight—!”
Hughes’ voice cut in, calmer but strained. “Celeste, listen to me. We’ll search together. Don’t isolate yourself.”
Celeste swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, softer this time. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t you—!”
The connection cut.
Celeste exhaled shakily. “I’ll apologise later,” she muttered to Mezzo.
They slowed at the edge of a ruined plaza.
Then they saw him.
The Minotaur stood ahead, massive silhouette stark against the glow of mana-clouded sky. Around him, zombies worked with methodical precision—passing survivors from claw to claw, wrapping them in thick candy cocoons that hardened instantly around struggling bodies.
One by one, the cocoons were lifted.
Candy chewing-gum webs stretched upward, elastic and glistening, hoisting the captives higher and higher toward a colossal gumball suspended in the air—opaque, swirling with trapped light and shadows.
Celeste’s heart dropped.
Coiled around the gumball was the zombie dragon general.
Its massive body wrapped protectively around the sphere, head resting against it like a guardian beast. Near its jaw perched a smaller shape—a phoenix zombie, wings tattered but glowing faintly.
It was singing.
A low, lilting melody—sweet and wrong—that drifted through the air like a lullaby.
The dragon’s eyes slowly closed.
It tightened its coils.
And went to sleep.
Celeste’s breath hitched.
Her gaze dropped.
Down below the platform, in the shadow of the rides and shattered stalls, the ground was moving.
Zombies were herding children.
Not dragging.
Not tearing.
Guiding.
Small bodies were ushered toward candy pods half-buried in the earth—smooth, translucent shells that pulsed faintly with mana. Some children cried. Some stumbled. Others swayed on their feet, eyes glassy.
Cat-o-Wraps slithered between them.
Lollipop heads tilted, mouths absent, voices rising in soft, coaxing harmony. They sang in borrowed tones—mothers, fathers, familiar comforts—each note threading sleep straight into the children’s bones.
Little hands went slack.
Resistance melted away.
One by one, the children were eased into the pods. The shells closed gently, sealing with a quiet, contented click.
Celeste’s vision blurred.
“No,” she whispered.
Then—
She saw her.
Bonbon.
The tiny panda stood frozen near the edge of the clearing, clutching her little paws to her chest, ears drooping as a Cat-o-Wrap sang to her in a voice that wasn’t its own.
She looked so small.
So tired.
So trusting.
The Cat-o-Wrap leaned closer.
Bonbon’s knees buckled.
Celeste felt something in her chest tear.
The pod opened.
And the world narrowed to a single, unbearable truth—
She was too far away.
And they were taking her anyway.
Then Celeste saw her.
Bonbon—small, wrapped in pink sleeves—was lifted gently and efficiently into one of the candy cocoons, her little paws twitching as the gum sealed around her.
Celeste surged forward with a broken sound in her throat.
“Bon—!”
Mezzo caught her around the middle and hauled her back hard. “No. No—don’t,” he hissed, voice shaking despite the grip. “Not now. Not like this.”
She struggled anyway, claws scraping stone, eyes burning. Then she saw more—
Arch.
One of Bracer’s newest recruits.
And his friend, barely older, shaking as the gum wrapped them too.
Celeste went still.
Mezzo pressed his forehead briefly to hers, grounding her just enough. “If you run in there, you die,” he whispered. “And then she’s alone.”
His arcbracer flickered to life. He kept his voice low, tight. “Bracer. Hughes. We’ve confirmed it. The Minotaur’s handing captives off—candy cocoons. They’re being lifted into a gumball construct guarded by the dragon general. Bonbon’s there.”
A pause.
Then Hughes voice, hard and controlled. “Get out. Now. You don’t engage. You don’t watch. You come back and we plan.”
Celeste shook her head violently, tears blurring her vision.
“No—you can’t make this call,” she sobbed, voice cracking as she stared down at the clearing. “I’m looking at her. They sang her to sleep. She’s a baby—she doesn’t even know she’s in danger.”
Her breath hitched, turning ragged.
“They’re going to eat her,” she choked. “They’re going to turn her into one of them. I can’t— I can’t walk away from that.”
Her knees nearly gave out.
Behind her, Ray’s voice tore through the air, sharp with panic and fury.
“Celeste! Where are you? Get back here—I’m dragging you back myself!”
Footsteps thundered—
“HOLD,” Hughes snapped, cutting Ray off mid-stride.
Celeste barely heard them.
Her eyes were locked on the movement near the gumball.
Zombies were lifting Bonbon now—gentle, careful, hands raised high as if presenting an offering. The Cat-o-Wrap’s song softened, sweeter still.
“No,” Celeste whimpered. “They’re lifting her. Hughes, they’re lifting her up—once she’s up there, once she sees it, it’s too late—”
“Celeste,” Hughes said, voice breaking through at last, firm but pleading. “You need a full team to rescue her. And we are not prepared. Not like this.”
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now.
“Please,” Hughes said. “Please, Celeste. Come back. The faster you do, the faster we can move.”
She watched as Bonbon’s small body was carried closer to the gumball, higher and higher.
“…It won’t be,” Hughes said urgently. “It won’t be too late. But it will be if we lose you. Come back. We need a plan.”
Mezzo stepped in close and took her hand, gripping it tight.
“Come on, Commander,” he said quietly. “We need them. All of them.”
Celeste’s chest hitched.
She looked once more.
The Minotaur was already turning away, satisfied. The zombies finished their work with ritual precision.
Her shoulders sagged.
She nodded.
Just once.
Celeste shook her head violently, tears blurring her vision. “Please—just one more second—I can—”
“No,” Hughes cut in. “Not like this. You’re compromised. You’re exhausted. And he wants you to break.”
Silence crackled.
Celeste swallowed the scream rising in her chest.
“…Okay,” she whispered, the word tasting like ash. “Okay. I’m coming back.”
She turned away before she could change her mind.
Mezzo stayed close as they retreated, each step heavier than the last, the phoenix’s lullaby following them like a curse.
As the park fell quiet behind them, Mezzo muttered darkly, “You’d better have a plan, Hughes.”
Celeste didn’t look back.
If she did—
She wouldn’t stop running.
