Morning crept into the Egg Tree softly—light filtering through sugar-glass leaves, the smell of toast and something suspiciously burnt wafting through the base.

Everyone gathered around the long, mismatched breakfast table like usual.

Everyone… except something was off.

Silver noticed it immediately.

Celeste was there—physically—but the warmth wasn’t.

She moved politely, efficiently, passing plates, checking gear laid out beside her chair, ears upright but eyes distant. When she laughed, it was the kind that ended too quickly. When she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Silver tried anyway.

“Well,” he said lightly, leaning an elbow on the table, “if we’re all about to die horribly today, I’d like to request better toast. This one appears to have fought bravely but lost.”

Normally, that would have earned him at least a snort.

Celeste glanced up.

She smiled—gentle, careful.

Nothing more.

Silver’s fingers tapped once against the table.

“Oh,” he said, as if only just remembering. “I forgot to mention. I managed to get a copy of Serenades of Mana 2 on my last patrol.”

Celeste blinked.

Her ears lifted a fraction.

Silver noticed. Of course he did.

“I was going to add it to my collection,” he continued, voice smooth but quieter than before, “but I thought perhaps we could play together. It doesn’t have co-op, unfortunately, but I am perfectly capable of taking turns.”

Across the table, Arcade slowly looked up from his plate.

Mezzo’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.

Celeste’s paws stilled around the toast basket.

Normally, she would have lit up.

Normally, she would have gasped, asked which edition, whether it had the restored festival quest, whether he knew the soundtrack had been re-recorded after the composer scandal.

Instead, she gave him a small, polite smile.

“That sounds nice.”

Nice.

Silver felt the word like a door closing softly.

He pushed on.

“Or perhaps The Scrolls of the Elder 5. I hear one can ride Succugoozs , which does sound… conceptually ridiculous enough to be entertaining.” His mouth twitched faintly. “Although I confess I’m not sure which edition it is. It has been re-released so many times now I’ve lost track. Legendary, Definitive, Anniversary, Royal, Slightly Shinier Royal—”

Celeste looked down at her hands.

Then back at him.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

The words landed wrong.

Silver blinked. “Pretend?”

Before he could follow up, heavy footsteps thumped down the stairs.

Before he could follow up, heavy footsteps thumped down the stairs.

Arcade appeared, hair sticking up, goggles crooked, datapad already scrolling.

“I found it,” he announced, plopping into a chair and stealing half of Mezzo’s breakfast without asking. “Source of the footage. Took longer than expected because someone—” he glared at the ceiling, “—refused to help after being called a glorified toaster.”

Chip did not respond. Petty silence confirmed.

Ray leaned forward. “Where?”

Arcade flicked the screen. “Godiad facility.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “Thats convinient. Relics. Missing mythics. What the kraken said.”

Hughes nodded slowly. “And explains why Church oversight didn’t catch it.”

Celeste straightened, focus snapping into place like a blade locking into a hilt.

“Then we shouldn’t ignore it,” she said. No hesitation. No softness. Just resolve.

Mezzo pointed at her with his fork. “Agreed. That place is bad news shaped like a building.”

Silver frowned. “Or it’s a trap. One we walk into without jurisdiction, support, or oversight.”

Celeste met his gaze calmly. “It’s not a Church site. Not Council either.”

Arcade shrugged. “Technically we’d just be… trespassing.”

Ray smirked. “We do that a lot.”

A beat.

Silver exhaled through his nose. “I still think it’s dangerous.”

Celeste nodded. “You’re probably right.”

That surprised him.

She pushed back her chair and stood. “We’ll prepare anyway.”

Just like that.

No argument. No apology. No leaning on him for reassurance.

As everyone began gearing up—buckling armor, checking runes, grabbing weapons—Silver stood a moment longer, watching her.

She moved with purpose, checking straps, handing Lumina her scarf, helping Skye adjust his pack. Efficient. Professional.

Distant.

Silver stepped closer. “Celeste—”

She looked at him, smiled politely again.

“Yes?”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

“Oh—right,” she said, already turning away. “We’re heading out in ten. Don’t forget your regulator this time.”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the flow of the team.

Silver stood there, confusion twisting into something uncomfortable in his chest.

A tiny voice piped up behind Celeste before she’d gone three steps.

“Mam?”

Bonbon toddled over, curls bouncing, clutching a plush dragon by one wing.

Celeste’s entire posture melted.

“Yes, cariad?” she asked softly.

“Ti’n mynd?” Bonbon asked, lower lip wobbling. You going?

“Yes,” Celeste said gently. “Just for a little bit.”

Bonbon frowned hard, processing this injustice.

“Fi dod?” she tried hopefully. Me come?

Celeste knelt immediately.

“Sorry, pet,” she said, brushing a curl from Bonbon’s eyes. “We can’t. You need to stay with Auntie Plum.”

Bonbon’s little hands grabbed at her coat.

“Mam,” she said again, more urgently this time—and then she flung herself forward in a full-bodied toddler hug.

Celeste caught her, holding her close.

“It’s alright,” she murmured into her hair. “I’ll be back before you can watch two cartoons.”

Bonbon sniffled. “Tri.” Three.

Celeste smiled faintly. “Three, then.”

“Paid â mynd,” Bonbon mumbled into her shoulder. Don’t go.

Celeste’s jaw tightened just slightly.

“I have to, cariad.”

Plum stepped in, crouching down beside them with exaggerated cheer.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said warmly. “Come on. You can use the radio again today. Properly this time. I’ll let you press the big button.”

Bonbon paused mid-sniffle.

“Y botwm mawr?” The big button?

“The very one.”

That did it.

Bonbon loosened her grip, though she still held tight to Celeste’s collar for a second longer.

She turned her head and squinted at Silver with serious toddler authority.

“Ti amddiffyn Mam,” she commanded. You protect Mam.

Silver blinked, caught entirely off guard by the intensity in such a small creature.

“…I intend to,” he said quietly.

Bonbon studied him like a miniature magistrate, then gave a decisive nod.

“Da.” Good.

Plum scooped her up gently, distracting her with talk of knobs and signals and very important radio duties as they walked off.

Celeste stood slowly, smoothing her uniform.

The softness drained from her expression in stages.

Commander again.

She turned—and met Silver’s eyes.

Still polite.

Still careful.

He felt the space between them more sharply than before.

They crammed into the Gwennan like a sack of feral cats in mismatched armor.

“NO,” Pitch snapped, yanking the radio mic away from Mezzo. “We are not putting ‘Free Bugbird’ on repeat again.”

Mezzo leaned over the back of the seat, grinning. “It’s motivational.”

“It’s thirty minutes long,” Pitch shot back. “If we die, I don’t want my last moments scored by a guitar solo that never ends.”

Ray, already buckled in, deadpanned, “Put on literally anything that isn’t Mezzo’s ego.”

“I vote silence,” Hughes added calmly.

Topsy, upside down in her harness, waved a hand. “What about static? Static’s fun. It crackles. Feels ominous.”

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even ask?”

While they argued, Silver sat across from Celeste, pretending very hard not to stare—failing spectacularly.

She was laughing with Mezzo, light and unguarded, elbowing him gently as they compared notes.

“Okay but the gummy hippo still counts as my worst,” Celeste said, counting on her fingers. “Too many teeth. Too much enthusiasm.”

Mezzo scoffed. “Nah, sour shark. Glass teeth. No fear. Bit me after it was dead.”

Arcade didn’t even look up from his tablet. “It wasn’t dead. You just stopped the animation loop prematurely.”

Celeste gasped. “Arcade!”

“What?” he said innocently. “Facts matter.”

Mezzo leaned closer to Celeste, mock-whispering, “He says that about everything. Once told me my haircut was ‘statistically inadvisable.’”

“It was,” Arcade replied. “You looked like a hedge that lost a fight.”

Celeste laughed—properly this time, shoulders shaking.

Silver felt it like a physical thing.

That laugh used to be for him, too.

Pitch finally slammed the radio back into its cradle. “Fine. We’re putting on the emergency channel. If anyone sings, I will eject you.”

Topsy raised a finger. “Even if it’s harmonising?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it’s a round?”

“Especially then.”

The engine roared to life, the Gwennan lurching forward.

Static crackled over the radio.

Then Plum’s voice burst through, far too cheerful for an emergency broadcast.

“Good morning, Clawdiff! This is Radio Gobaith, reminding you to stay indoors, report candy swarms, and absolutely not lick suspicious frosting off public monuments. Looking at you, docks district. Anyway, here’s something to keep spirits up.”

Pitch went still.

“No.”

A jaunty beat kicked in.

Mezzo’s head snapped up.

Topsy gasped so hard she nearly wriggled out of her harness. “She put it on!”

Ray groaned. “Stars help us.”

A bright, ridiculous chorus poured through the speakers.

When the sugar dead come marching,
And the streets go sticky-sweet,
Grab your boots and grab your courage,
Don’t let frosting take your feet!

Mezzo slapped one hand against the seat in time. “Oh, this is a classic.”

“It came out yesterday,” Arcade said.

“Classic.”

Topsy threw both paws in the air and joined in at maximum volume.

If the gummy jaws are snapping,
And the gumdrops start to bite,
Call the Knights of Clawdiff, baby,
We’ll be glowing through the night!

Celeste’s mouth twitched.

She tried not to smile.

Failed.

Mezzo leaned toward her, eyebrows waggling. “Come on, Commander. Don’t leave me to carry the vocals alone.”

“I don’t know all the words.”

“That has never stopped Topsy.”

Topsy, upside down in her harness, sang with absolute confidence, “Throw a waffle at the moonlight—”

Arcade looked up. “That is not the lyric.”

“It should be!”

Celeste gave a tiny laugh.

Mezzo grinned and pointed at her like he had just scored a victory in battle. “There she is.”

The second verse started.

Mezzo sang louder.

Candy claws and caramel teeth,
Marshmallow doom beneath our feet—

Topsy came in half a beat early.

Bonk them once and bonk them twice,
Don’t ask questions, roll the dice!

Celeste covered her mouth, shoulders shaking now.

“That is definitely not the official version.”

“It is the improved version,” Topsy declared.

Mezzo leaned close to Celeste, lowering his voice into a dramatic bardic warble.

Oh brave commander, soft and bright,
Please don’t trip before the fight—

Celeste squeaked. “Mezzo!”

He continued, hand over heart.

With shiny swords and lucky hat,
She’ll apologise, then murder that!

Celeste burst out laughing.

Properly.

Uncontrolled.

Bright enough that it filled the whole back of the Gwennan.

Topsy joined in at once, clapping wildly.

She’ll say sorry! Then attack!
Zombie sweets don’t get back up from that!

Even Lumina giggled, swinging her feet.

Ray tried very hard not to smile and lost the fight around the edges.

Hughes looked out the window with the grave expression of a man enduring nonsense for morale.

Pitch stared at the ceiling. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Topsy sang.

“I don’t.”

“You do in harmony.”

Celeste wiped at her eyes, still laughing. “That was awful.”

Mezzo bowed as much as the seatbelt allowed. “Thank you. I give only my finest rubbish.”

Arcade didn’t even look up from his tablet. “For once, accurate self-assessment.”

Celeste laughed again, softer this time, leaning lightly into Mezzo’s shoulder when the Gwennan hit a pothole.

The engine roared to life, the Gwennan lurching forward.

Celeste leaned over Mezzo, still smiling. “Hey, remember the candy seagull that screamed like a kettle?”

Mezzo snorted. “Oh gods, yeah. You apologized to it.”

“I thought it was confused!”

Arcade sighed. “It was weaponized.”

Silver watched her—bright, animated, surrounded by people who teased her freely and trusted her completely.

She didn’t glance his way.

Not once.

The Gwennan rattled over a sleeping zombie, throwing everyone an inch into the air.

Celeste steadied herself against the seat, laughter fading into a softer smile as the noise of the others carried on around them.

Silver watched her for another second.

Then two.

He forced himself to speak.

“…Is everything alright?”

She blinked, as if surprised he’d addressed her at all.

“Yes,” she said gently. “I’m fine. Are you, Silver?”

The way she said it—careful, polite.

Measured.

“Yes,” he answered automatically. Then, after a beat, “I was thinking… perhaps we could go on another walk sometime. Like yesterday.”

His voice softened despite himself.

“I rather enjoyed it.”

Celeste nodded.

“If you want.”

It was the right answer.

But not the eager one.

Not the bright spark he’d gotten before.

She looked… courteous.

Silver felt something click into place in his chest.

Oh.

Perhaps she had overheard him yesterday.

Bartleby’s voice in the corridor. His own measured tone. The careful phrasing about optics. Strategy. Recommendation.

He shouldn’t care.

He absolutely should not care.

And yet—

He did. Very much so.

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry over Mezzo’s commentary about kettle-seagulls.

“Did you overhear my conversation with Bartleby yesterday?”

Celeste stilled.

Just slightly.

“If so,” Silver continued smoothly, “I believe you may have misread the context.”

It was elegant.

Controlled.

Practiced.

Celeste met his eyes.

She knew.

He was bullshitting.

But she didn’t press.

“It’s fine, Silver,” she said.

There it was again.

Silver.

Not with warmth.

Just… professional.

He hated it.

He hated the distance in that single word.

But he didn’t comment.

He couldn’t.

Mezzo’s laughter burst across the cabin again as Topsy attempted to harmonize with the emergency radio tone.

Celeste turned back toward the others, smile polite, energy dimmed just enough that only someone watching closely would notice.

Silver leaned back in his seat.

Hands folded.

Expression composed. 

Outside, the ruined city rolled past in flickers of light and shadow.

He told himself he had done nothing wrong.

That context mattered.

That politics required caution.

The Gwennan rattled down the road toward Godiad, full of noise and bickering and terrible radio decisions—

and Silver sat very still,

realizing a little too late that pretending had cost him something real.