The hall opened into a quieter wing, light filtering through tall lattice windows. The Radiants moved through it like drifting petals—silk-white robes, soft footfalls, voices low and measured.
Celeste slowed without meaning to.
They were… mixed.
A pureblood polar bear Radiant spoke softly with a fox. A dragon-blooded mythic adjusted a prayer sash beside a pureblood doe. Hybrids, mythics, purebloods—no separation, no visible hierarchy. Just together.
Celeste blinked.
That was when it clicked.
The priests.
The paladins.
Even the Luminarch mages.
They weren’t divided the way the city was.
Her tail swayed, thoughtful.
One of the Radiants noticed her staring and turned. She was tall and broad-shouldered, a polar bear with kind, steady eyes and a voice like fresh snow settling.
“Are you lost, dear?” the Radiant asked.
Celeste straightened immediately. “Oh—no! Well. Maybe a little? We were actually wondering if… um…” She clasped her hands together. “If things have been going missing. Or people.”
The bear’s expression didn’t change—but something tightened behind her eyes.
She glanced to the other Radiants.
They paused. One adjusted her beads. Another folded her sleeves more tightly.
They all nodded.
The polar bear looked back at Celeste, studying her more carefully now—not her armor, not her rank, but her.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Both.”
Celeste felt a chill run up her spine.
“I can’t discuss it here,” the Radiant continued, voice calm but firm. “Too many ears. Too many habits that listen when they shouldn’t.”
She gestured gently toward a set of glass doors at the end of the corridor. Beyond them, Celeste could see green—ivy, flowering shrubs, sunlight spilling onto stone paths.
“Meet me in the garden later,” the Radiant said. “When the bells change.”
Celeste nodded quickly. “Of course. Thank you, Sister—?”
The bear smiled, just a little. “Sister Halwen.”
As Halwen turned away, Mezzo leaned in and muttered, “Well. That didn’t sound ominous at all.”
Celeste swallowed, eyes still on the garden doors.
“No,” she said softly. “But it did sound important.”
Hughes folded his arms, eyes already on the garden doors like he was measuring sightlines.
“Me, Celeste, and Pitch,” he said. “We go to the meeting.”
Pitch lifted a brow. “And the rest of the circus?”
Hughes didn’t even look at him. “My time-stop buys us thinking room if this turns bad. Pitch is good at exits—planned or otherwise.”
Pitch smirked faintly. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Topsy’s hand shot up instantly. “Oi. What about me?”
Hughes finally turned. He studied her for a second, genuinely thoughtful.
“…Come to think of it,” he said, “what is your mana ability?”
Topsy froze.
“…My what now?”
There was a beat.
Lumina blinked. “Mana ability. Like mine is healing, Celeste copies powers—”
Celeste nodded encouragingly.
“—and,” Lumina added quickly, “that’s okay! Skye doesn’t have one either.”
Skye’s ears flicked back. He looked away, suddenly very interested in a crack in the floor.
Lumina immediately regretted existing.
Skye hesitated, then looked up at Celeste. “C-can I still come?” he asked softly. “I can help. I’m good at… noticing things.”
Celeste didn’t hesitate. She smiled and crouched slightly so she was level with him.
“Of course you can,” she said. “Just stay close, okay?”
Skye nodded hard. “Okay.”
Pitch exhaled through his nose. “Isn’t bringing the kids a bit—”
Celeste looked at him.
Not angry.
Not disappointed.
Just… please.
The kind of look that said I believe in them, could you please try to as well.
Pitch’s shoulders sagged.
“…Fine,” he muttered. “I just don’t like dragging people out when things get rough.”
Hughes clapped a hand on Pitch’s shoulder. “Then make sure it doesn’t get rough.”
Topsy grinned, completely missing the tension. “Brilliant. Field trip.”
Celeste took a breath, straightened, and glanced toward the garden doors again.
“Okay,” she said, quietly but with resolve. “Let’s go ask some Radiants some very uncomfortable questions.”
Mezzo jerked a thumb toward the far corridor.
“We’ll be lookout.”
Topsy immediately bounced on her heels. “I’ll go with! Perfect time to discover my mana ability. Maybe if I chew bubblegum I can fly. Or maybe I’m good at guessing things. Or maybe—”
“—it won’t hide from me,” she finished proudly.
Arcade groaned like a man who had seen this exact future in a spreadsheet.
“I will accompany the chaos gremlin,” he said flatly, already rubbing his temples. “Strictly to ensure she doesn’t break anything historically priceless.”
Ray rolled her shoulders. “I’ll check the relic counts. Something’s off. You don’t blackmail people over nothing.”
Silver hesitated, then cleared his throat with practiced nobility.
“Ah. I’ll come too—if that’s all right, Ray.”
Ray gave him a long, measuring look. “Fine.”
Lumina perked up. “I can help too!”
Ray shot them both a look—the kind that could curdle milk.
“…Fine,” she repeated. “But stay where I can see you.”
Silver glanced down at Lumina, frowning faintly.
“Why are we bringing a child?”
Ray didn’t even look at him. “She’s on the team. Deal with it.”
Silver sniffed. “But look how small she is. Surely she can’t fight. She’s—well—tiny.”
Lumina stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, she summoned her sword and shield—light flaring, steel singing softly as it formed in her hands. She pointed the sword at Silver’s chest, just far enough away to be polite, just close enough to be clear.
“See?” she said firmly. “I’m not useless. I’m legally big enough to use the pointy end.”
The corridor went very quiet.
Silver raised both hands immediately.
“…Right. Apologies. The little madam has teeth, apparently.”
Lumina made a face at him—tongue out, eyes narrowed—then dismissed her weapons in a shimmer of light and skipped back to Ray’s side like nothing had happened.
Ray smirked. Just a little.
Arcade leaned toward Mezzo and murmured, “I like her.”
Mezzo grinned. “Same.”
Silver adjusted his scarf, dignity slightly dented, and muttered,
“…Noted.”
Celeste paused mid-step, then looked back over her shoulder. “Actually—Arcade?” She pointed gently between him and Silver. “Could you go with him instead? If there’s data hidden in the museum systems, you’ll be able to download it faster than anyone.”
Arcade blinked. “…Are you sure?”
Before Celeste could answer, Silver cleared his throat with practiced nobility.
“We can manage without him.”
Arcade’s mouth curved immediately.
“Oh,” he said pleasantly. “Is that a challenge?”
Silver stiffened. “It is a statement.”
“Excellent,” Arcade replied, smug already. “I perform best under professional doubt.”
They set off down the corridor together.
The further they walked, the more the cathedral’s warmth thinned out—golden light giving way to cooler tones, stained glass narrowing into tall, frosted panes. Their footsteps softened as the stone changed beneath their boots, polished smooth by centuries of careful passage. The air smelled different here: old dust, ozone, faint mana residue that clung to the back of the throat.
Ray slowed without announcing it.
The corridor widened, then opened—
—and became the records office.
It was silent.
Shelves of crystal slates stood half-lit, dust motes drifting through the glow like the place had been holding its breath. Ray slowed automatically, hand hovering near her weapon.
Silver cleared his throat, smoothing his sleeves like that might make this less uncomfortable.
“Ray,” he began carefully, “about Commander Astallan—perhaps it would be… prudent to reconsider this investigation.”
Ray didn’t look at him. She was already checking terminals, eyes sharp.
“Why.”
“Well,” Silver said, choosing each word like it cost money, “it’s risky. For the Knights’ reputation. Stirring rumors inside a holy institution, implying relic theft—people will assume incompetence. Or worse. Corruption.”
Ray snorted. “It’s a job. We’re getting paid.”
“Yes, but—”
“And even if we weren’t,” she added, finally turning to him, “people are missing. Mythics. That’s not gossip. That’s math.”
Silver hesitated. “…I spoke with Diana Lockhart.”
Ray froze. Slowly, she turned back.
“And?”
“She suggested we drop it. Said it was nonsense. Rumors. That the Church has enough on its plate.”
Ray studied his face, searching for something. Then she exhaled through her nose.
“…Fine,” she said at last. “We look. If there’s nothing, we walk away richer and quieter. Deal?”
Silver nodded. “Deal.”
The information droid whirred to life, lenses blinking.
“Please state clearance.”
“Knights of Clawdiff,” Ray said.
“Limited access granted.”
Silver stepped forward. “House Arcturus. On my authority.”
The droid paused.
Then the room changed.
Lights flared brighter. Panels slid open. Entire shelves unlocked with a soft, ominous hum.
Ray’s ears flicked. “…That’s convenient.”
Silver didn’t look pleased. “It usually is.”
They skimmed fast—too fast.
Relic logs. Transfer records. Redacted entries. Entire artifacts quietly reclassified as relocated.
Ray’s jaw tightened. “These aren’t Mana War relics.”
“No,” Silver said softly. “They’re older.”
Kymara.
The word wasn’t written, but it might as well have been carved into the air.
Dates stretched back three years. Five. Seven.
Always the same phrasing.
Removed for safeguarding.
Transferred by request.
Authority approved.
One name repeated.
Ray pointed. “That one. Again.”
Silver swallowed.
“…Lady Seren Cariad.”
Ray glanced at him. “You know her.”
Silver nodded slowly. “She visited my grandfather. A few times. Court functions. Private audiences.” He frowned. “An alicorn. Beautiful. Intelligent. Terrifying in that way where you feel like she already knows what you’re thinking.”
Ray arched a brow. “Sounds fun.”
“I don’t know what she wanted,” Silver admitted. “But people didn’t say no to her.”
Voices echoed down the corridor.
Ray grabbed Silver’s sleeve and yanked him behind a shelving unit just as Elias and two priests passed the doorway.
“…the Light shelters many now,” Tamsin was saying calmly. “With the candy dead increasing, more will come. Perhaps we should expand.”
“Yes,” another priest murmured. “They need us in times like these.”
“And Lysander?” Tamsin added, tone sharp for half a second. “He must keep his affairs in order. His father’s business has made record-keeping… difficult. Too many things misfiled lately.”
They moved on, robes whispering.
Silence returned.
Ray leaned close to Silver, voice low.
“Still think your friend’s innocent?”
Silver didn’t answer right away.
When he did, it was quieter than Ray expected.
“…No.”
The terminal chimed—once, sharp and wrong.
Arcade’s ears went flat. “Ah. That’s the sound of someone noticing.”
He yanked a cable free, fingers flying. “I’ve got partials—transfer logs, access ghosts, three redundant mirrors—okay, that’s everything that won’t get us smote by the Artist.”
Lumina clutched a slim crystal data pad she’d lifted from a side shelf, small hands tight around it. “This one wasn’t logged at all,” she whispered. “It was hidden behind a hymn index.”
From the corridor, voices rose—closer now.
“…the system has been accessed,” the carbuncle priest said, calm gone razor-thin. “Crystal has been interfering more than usual. Ask the others—should we relocate her?”
A pause. Then another priest murmured, “If there’s evidence… we take her confession.”
Tamsin nodded once. “Summon her. We will see what she knows.”
Ray swore under her breath. “We need to get to her. Now.”
Silver’s eyes flicked to the doorway, calculating. “No. We warn the Commander first.”
Ray rounded on him. “They’re calling her in right now.”
“And if Crystal walks into a trap,” Silver shot back, “and names us? Or worse—walks the Knights into it?” His voice stayed even, but his jaw was tight. “We get ahead of this. Celeste needs to know before anything else moves.”
Ray hesitated—then nodded once. “Fine. We warn her. Then we circle back.”
Lumina stepped between them, brows pinched. “That’s not nice,” she said quietly. “Leaving her alone.”
Silver didn’t soften. “It’s necessary.”
She opened her mouth—
“—When you’re an adult,” Silver added, crisp and final, “you’ll understand that survival sometimes means choosing when to help, not how fast.”
Lumina’s shoulders slumped. She hugged the data pad to her chest anyway.
Arcade glanced from Silver to Ray, unimpressed. “You know that’s underhanded, right? Throwing people under the bus is how you lose trust forever.”
Silver met his stare. “It’s how you stay alive.”
A beat.
Then Ray grabbed Arcade’s sleeve. “Move.”
They slipped out the back corridor just as bells began to toll—low, solemn.
Somewhere in the cathedral, a summons was being made.
And the Knights of Clawdiff were already running behind it.
