They had barely reached the back corridor when voices carried from ahead.
Ray stopped so abruptly Arcade nearly walked into her.
Silver lifted one hand.
Quiet.
Bootsteps echoed first.
Not one pair.
Dozens.
A large formation of paladins marched down the corridor ahead, armour gleaming in white and gold, weapons resting against their shoulders. Their prayer-song rolled low through the stone, disciplined and steady, the sort of sound that made even breathing feel too loud.
Ray grabbed Lumina by the shoulder and pulled her behind a line of saint statues.
Arcade ducked behind a marble martyr with a missing hand.
Silver slipped behind a gilded pillar with practiced ease, cloak folding neatly around him.
The paladins passed within arm’s reach.
None of the Knights moved.
None of them spoke.
Only when the final set of boots faded around the far corner did Ray breathe again.
Then another voice came from beyond the archway.
Crystal.
“What is this about?”
Ray’s head snapped up.
The Knights froze behind the statues.
They couldn’t see her from here. The corridor curved too sharply, and the row of carved saints blocked most of the view. But her voice carried clearly enough, tense and controlled.
A priest answered her.
“We simply have some questions, Cadet Lockhart.”
Crystal’s breath hitched.
“I know what happens when you say you have questions.”
The priest’s voice remained mild. “That sounds like fear speaking.”
“No,” Crystal said. “That is memory speaking. I am done watching fellow paladins, mages, and priests go missing while everyone stands around doing nothing.”
A silence followed.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Then Tamsin’s voice, calm as settled dust.
“Children of Light often stray. Some leave the path because another road calls more loudly. Some seek silence. Some choose exile over duty. Not all absence is theft, Cadet. Sometimes a soul must walk where the Light alone can follow.”
Crystal laughed once.
Short.
Disbelieving.
“They had no reason to leave.”
“Reason is rarely visible to those left behind.”
“And the mana?” Crystal snapped. “The control runes? The missing confession records? Who are you kidding?”
One of the other priests spoke then, his voice lower. Sharper.
“Careful, Cadet Lockhart. Your mother’s position does not make you untouchable.”
Crystal went very still.
Even from behind the statues, Ray heard it in the silence.
The priest continued, softer now, almost pleased with himself. “The Supreme Commander has endured enough whispers as it is. A daughter making accusations against holy servants? A daughter with hybrid blood? It would reflect poorly.”
Lumina’s fingers tightened around the data pad.
Silver’s eyes narrowed.
Crystal’s voice dropped. “Are you threatening my mother?”
“We are reminding you of consequence.”
Tamsin exhaled lightly, as if disappointed by the messiness of the moment.
“The Doctrine warns us,” he said. “‘From mingled blood comes corruption, and from corruption comes deceit. Trust not the fractured vessel, for it may speak with many tongues.’”
The words landed like frost.
Crystal did not answer at once.
When she did, her voice trembled.
Not with fear.
With fury.
“If you want to use scripture to justify evil, I can counter with my own.”
The priests shifted somewhere out of sight.
Crystal stepped forward. They heard her boots scrape against the stone.
“‘False witness stains the tongue,’” she said, voice growing steadier with each word. “‘And those who hide darkness beneath holy cloth will find Motherlight’s dawn at their backs.’”
A pause.
Then, stronger:
“‘The faithful do not twist scripture to suit their hunger. They follow its guidance, even when it leads them into fire.’”
Silence hit the corridor like a struck bell.
“That is scripture too,” Crystal said. “Or did you forget that verse?”
For one tiny second, Tamsin’s composure cracked.
His breath sharpened.
His voice, when it came, had lost its softness.
“You forget yourself.”
Then he caught it.
Smoothed it away.
When he spoke again, he was serene once more.
Almost.
“It is not your place to interpret Motherlight’s will.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Ours,” said another priest.
Softly.
Simply.
As if that settled the world.
There was the sound of Crystal taking a step back.
“I’m leaving.”
No one answered.
Then—
A dull thud.
Ray’s hand flew to Heartbreaker.
A grinding sound followed.
Brick against brick.
Old stone dragging across old stone.
The Knights looked at one another.
Arcade mouthed, What was that?
Silver’s eyes narrowed.
The sound continued for only a few seconds, then stopped abruptly.
No scream.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Nothing.
Ray moved first.
She burst out from behind the statues and into the hall, Heartbreaker already half-summoned in a flare of heat.
“Crystal!”
Silver followed, face hard, arcbracer raised. Arcade and Lumina came after him, Lumina clutching the stolen data pad so tightly her knuckles had gone pale.
The hallway was empty.
No Crystal.
No priests.
No visible side door.
No stairwell.
Only stone walls, polished floor, and long tapestries depicting saints burning away shadow with golden flame.
A cold draft moved through the corridor.
The tapestries stirred.
Slowly.
Like something behind them had just exhaled.
Silver stared at the blank stretch of wall.
“…Where did she go?”
Arcade was already lifting his wrist. “C.H.I.P. can scan for hollow points. Or hidden hinges. Or murder architecture, because apparently that’s a category now—”
“Stop.”
The voice came from behind them.
Four cathedral paladins approached from the far end of the corridor, armour gleaming, spears held low but ready. Their expressions were flat. Not curious. Not surprised.
The lead paladin’s eyes moved from Ray’s weapon to Silver’s arcbracer.
“You are in a restricted section,” he said. “You need to leave.”
Silver stepped forward instantly, authority snapping back around him like a cloak.
“There was a disturbance,” he said. “A cadet was just here. Crystal Lockhart. She disappeared.”
The paladin did not blink.
“This section is restricted.”
Ray stepped forward, eyes burning. “Our Knight-Commander has authority to investigate any leads connected to the candy apocalypse. Missing people, stolen relics, weird stone noises in holy murder corridors—that all sounds like leads to me.”
The paladin looked at her.
Then at the empty space behind them.
“Your Knight-Commander is not here.”
Ray’s grip tightened.
“And right now,” the paladin continued, “you are trespassing.”
Silver lifted his chin. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” the paladin said.
That answer landed worse than no.
Silver’s expression sharpened. “Then you will stand aside.”
The paladin stepped closer.
“This is bigger than you.”
For half a second, no one spoke.
Arcade’s fingers hovered over his bracer, electricity crackling faintly at his claws.
Lumina looked from the blank wall to the paladins, small face pale with frightened fury.
Ray’s shoulders squared.
Silver’s eyes were cold enough to frost glass.
But the paladins had already moved into formation, not attacking, not threatening.
Escorting.
A soft, polished removal.
The kind the Council used when it wanted someone gone without admitting they had been thrown out.
The lead paladin gestured down the corridor.
“Leave. Now.”
Silver stared at him.
Then at the wall.
Then, very slowly, lowered his arcbracer.
“Very well,” he said.
Ray shot him a look. “Silver—”
“Not here,” he said under his breath. “Not surrounded.”
The paladins marched them away.
Not roughly.
Not kindly.
Just firmly, down one corridor, then another, until the air warmed again and the cathedral’s public halls began to reappear.
Then the lead paladin stopped.
“Arcbracers,” he said.
Silver frowned. “Excuse me?”
“All devices will be scanned before you leave this wing.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“There was no deal,” the paladin replied.
A second paladin stepped forward with a scanning rod, its tip glowing white-blue. He swept it over Silver’s arcbracer first.
The device chirped.
Data copied.
Silver’s jaw tightened.
Ray’s came next.
Another chirp.
Lumina clutched her arm protectively, but Ray gave her a sharp look.
Not here.
Lumina reluctantly held out her arcbracer.
The scanner chirped again.
Then they reached Arcade.
The scanner passed over his bracer.
Silence.
The paladin frowned and tried again.
Nothing.
Arcade smiled brightly. “Oh dear. Is it broken?”
The paladin’s stare flattened. “Open the storage partition.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
Arcade sighed like this was all very tedious and pressed a small button on the back of his arcbracer.
The bracer flashed green.
A pulse snapped outward.
Every nearby arcbracer glitched at once.
The paladins’ scanners screeched. Camera lenses along the corridor sparked, fizzed, and went dark. Several paladins looked down sharply as their own wrist units blinked through emergency resets.
For one glittering second, green mana swirled above Arcade’s shoulder.
Then C.H.I.P. poofed into existence in a burst of glowing sparks.
“GOOD AFTERNOON,” C.H.I.P. chirped.
The paladins froze.
Arcade wiggled his fingers. “Emergency file transfer.”
C.H.I.P. gave a smug little spin. “DATA SAFELY RELOCATED. LOCAL DEVICES SCRUBBED. SURVEILLANCE COMPROMISED. PALADIN TECH SUPPORT PROBABLY CRYING.”
The lead paladin stared at Arcade.
“What was that?”
Arcade shrugged. “He’s just my mana manifestation. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That was not a mana manifestation.”
“Rude. He’s very sensitive.”
The paladin’s jaw tightened. “Hand over the data.”
Arcade pulled a slim crystal chip from his bracer and offered it between two fingers.
The paladin took it and scanned.
Factory settings.
Empty.
Completely scrubbed.
The paladin looked up slowly.
“Hand over the robot.”
Arcade’s smile widened.
“Can’t.”
“You can.”
“I really can’t.” He tapped his arcbracer. “Attached to me. Spiritually. Emotionally. Technically violently.”
The paladin’s hand moved toward his weapon.
“We don’t care.”
Arcade’s expression changed.
“Yeah,” he said. “That was the wrong answer.”
Then he bolted.
Straight down the corridor.
“ARCADE!” Ray shouted.
The paladins lunged after him.
Ray swore and immediately sprinted in the opposite direction, drawing two more after her.
Silver stared after both of them, appalled.
“This is not a plan!”
Lumina grabbed his hand.
He looked down.
She was holding a little paper packet filled with glittering pale powder.
“What is that?”
“Mythic flash powder,” Lumina said.
Silver’s eyes went wide. “Why do you have—”
She threw it at the floor.
White light exploded through the corridor.
Paladins shouted.
Silver yelped, completely undignified, as Lumina dragged him through the burst of smoke and glitter.
“Run!”
“I am running!” Silver snapped, stumbling after her. “Why does everyone in this unit solve problems by fleeing in multiple directions?”
Lumina pulled harder. “Because it works!”
“It demonstrably does not!”
Behind them, the paladins shouted orders through the flash-cloud.
Ahead, the corridor split.
Lumina did not hesitate.
Silver protested the entire way.
