As the valley settled again, a hush fell.
Pitch sat beside Mezzo, quieter than usual, one hand still curled loosely as if he could feel the bugbird’s fragile warmth resting there. Ray sat nearby, not quite touching him, but closer than she had been before.
Celeste was just starting to breathe again when Arcade drifted toward her.
He looked less polished than usual. His quills still sparked faintly at the ends, and every so often his eyes flicked toward her chest, then away again, like he was trying to decide whether the question in his head was worth the trouble it would cause.
Celeste noticed, of course.
She always noticed the anxious ones.
“Arcade?” she asked softly. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “Fine. Perfect. Spectacular. Only had a full magical identity crisis in front of half a clan, so, you know. Standard morning.”
Celeste gave him a small smile. “You did brilliantly.”
His mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t settle. “About that…”
He glanced toward the others, then lowered his voice.
“When I was in there, I saw it. The thread. The one from your core.” His fingers flexed at his side. “I reached for it. On purpose.”
Celeste’s ears flicked back.
Arcade swallowed, his usual confidence thinning into something honest and uneasy. “And it answered. You answered. Or your core did. I don’t know which, and that’s sort of the terrifying part. It didn’t feel like being controlled, exactly, but it also didn’t feel normal.” He hesitated. “Celeste, I think your core is—”
“Fy nhro i nawr?”
My turn now?
Every head turned.
Bonbon stood wobbling slightly on her little feet, her oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, ears perked like velvet pancakes. Her tiny paws were clasped behind her back, and her eyes sparkled with both nerves and excitement.
Arcade’s mouth shut.
Celeste blinked, horror dawning at once. “Oh no. No, no, sweetheart—no.”
Bonbon tilted her head, confused. “Pam?”
Why?
Celeste crouched down to her level, voice soft but firm, tail curling protectively around the little panda. “Cariad, dyw e ddim yn gêm, iawn? Mae’n beryglus. Nid i blant ydy hyn.”
Sweetheart, it isn’t a game, alright? It’s dangerous. This isn’t for children.
Bonbon’s ears drooped. “Ond pawb arall… maen nhw’n cael un.”
But everyone else gets one.
Celeste sighed, brushing some grass off Bonbon’s sleeve. “That’s because they need to find out what’s inside them. But you don’t need this, love—you’re already something special.”
Bonbon looked down at her paws, shuffling.
Then, in a tiny, trembling voice, she whispered, “Dw i ddim yn gwybod beth ydw i.”
I don’t know what I am.
Celeste froze.
Bonbon’s lip wobbled, but she looked up again, brave despite the tears gathering in her wide red eyes.
“Rwyt ti’n dweud mod i’n fêrie, ond… efallai dw i ddim. Efallai dw i’n rhywbeth drwg.”
You say I’m a fairy, but… maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m something bad.
Celeste’s chest tightened. She reached out and gently cupped Bonbon’s cheek, brushing her thumb over the little panda’s fur.
“Shh, cariad bach. Ti’n fêrie. Dw i’n addo.”
Shh, little love. You’re a fairy. I promise.
Bonbon sniffled. “Ond dw i eisiau profi e.”
But I want to prove it.
Elder Arlo had been watching quietly, eyes full of a deep, timeless kindness. He stepped closer, robes whispering against the grass.
“She has the right to ask,” he said softly. “Even the smallest hearts carry their own light.”
Celeste frowned, nervous. “She’s only two. She can’t even say ‘mana’ without calling it ‘banana.’”
Bonbon crossed her arms stubbornly. “Banana’n gryf iawn!”
Banana is very strong!
That earned a small laugh from Mezzo and even a quiet snort from Ray.
Celeste looked helplessly at Elder Arlo, who smiled knowingly.
“She may not be ready for the full Trial,” he said gently, kneeling to Bonbon’s height, “but perhaps… she is ready to remember what she already is.”
Celeste’s ears were already flattened with anxiety. “She’s just a baby—”
But before she could finish, Bonbon’s chip gave a small pop.
It fell, weightless, into the grass.
Bonbon’s eyes widened.
And she immediately started crying.
“Mae’n brifo! Mae’n brifo, mae’n brifo!”
It hurts! It hurts, it hurts!
Celeste lunged forward, maternal instinct overriding everything—but Elder Arlo stepped between them, calmly but firmly placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Let her.”
“She’s too small—!” Celeste’s voice cracked.
“No,” he said gently. “She is young. But not too small.”
Bonbon whimpered, clutching at her chest as pastel light began to flicker around her like fireflies trapped in glass.
Arlo’s voice softened. “Let her feel it. This is her first truth.”
The field began to shift.
Not violently, like the others.
Softly.
Like petals scattering on wind.
Bonbon stumbled, whimpering—and the world turned into a kaleidoscope of scenes.
Memories.
Possibilities.
She saw familiar faces—Ray shouting, Mezzo laughing, Celeste holding her close.
But they flickered.
Gone.
Then came loud sounds. Unfamiliar voices. Empty buildings. Rain falling without end.
Scenes of the world changing again and again.
Places she didn’t know.
Faces that shifted.
Bonbon reached for any of them. “Ble mae Mam wedi mynd?”
Where did Mam go?
No one answered.
Her chest ached.
“Pam mae popeth yn newid?”
Why does everything change?
She stumbled through it, clutching her little hands to her chest. Her sobs echoed like wind chimes in the storm.
Then she stopped.
Completely.
The shifting visions slowed.
Bonbon sank to the ground, curled into a tiny ball, and tucked her face into her knees. Her ears folded flat over her head. Her little tail curled close.
She went silent.
Too silent.
At first, everyone waited.
A breeze moved through the valley.
The visions dimmed, hovering around her like uncertain lanterns.
Nothing happened.
Bonbon did not sing.
Did not move.
Did not cry.
Celeste’s paws curled into fists. “Arlo…”
Elder Arlo’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
He stepped closer to the vision, his staff glowing faintly as he studied the stillness around the little fairy child.
“She has folded inward,” he murmured. “The Trial cannot hear a heart that is hiding from itself.”
Celeste’s voice trembled. “Then stop it.”
Arlo looked at her. “No.”
Celeste’s ears flattened. “Elder Arlo—”
“You must go in with her.”
The valley went quiet.
Celeste blinked. “Me?”
“She trusts you,” Arlo said simply. “Her light is not solitary. It answers bond before it answers power.”
Celeste looked terrified. “But what if I make it worse?”
“You may,” Arlo said honestly.
Not helpful. Very not helpful.
Then his eyes softened. “But she is already alone in there.”
That was enough.
Celeste stepped forward before fear could argue with her.
The vision opened like mist parting around a doorway, and she crossed into Bonbon’s Trial.
The world inside was strangely small now.
No battlefield.
No great storm.
Just an endless grey space scattered with half-formed memories: a broken umbrella, a comic convention banner, a warm blanket, a small bowl of sweets, a door left open in the rain.
Bonbon sat in the centre of it all, curled into a ball.
Celeste knelt in front of her, heart aching.
“Bonbon?”
No answer.
Celeste swallowed, then tried again in careful, broken Welsh.
“Dw i yma, cariad. Paid… paid cuddio rhagof fi?”
I’m here, love. Don’t… don’t hide from me?
Bonbon’s ears twitched faintly.
Progress. Tiny progress. Celeste clung to it like a rope over a cliff.
She shifted closer, sitting cross-legged in front of her. “Mae’n ddrwg gen i os dw i’n dweud hyn yn anghywir. Dw i’n trio.”
I’m sorry if I’m saying this wrong. I’m trying.
Bonbon lifted her face just enough for one red eye to peek out.
“Mam?”
Celeste’s breath caught.
“Oh, sweetheart…”
Bonbon uncurled a little. “Mam.”
Celeste’s ears dipped. “Bonbon, I’m not—I mean, I’m not really your mam. I found you, and I love you very much, but your real mam—”
“Gadawodd hi fi.”
She left me.
The words were small.
Flat.
Too old for such a tiny voice.
Celeste’s heart cracked clean through.
“She didn’t,” Celeste said quickly, gently. “She’s just lost. Maybe she’s trying to find you.”
Bonbon stared at her.
“Yna ti yw Mam tan mae hi’n dod.”
Then you are Mam until she comes.
Celeste opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Tried again.
“That’s not… I don’t want to take her place.”
Bonbon crawled forward on her knees and grabbed both of Celeste’s paws with her tiny ones.
“Addo.”
Promise.
Celeste looked down at their joined hands.
“I…”
“Addo,” Bonbon said again, firmer this time. “Paid â mynd.”
Promise. Don’t go.
Outside the Trial, the valley had gone utterly still.
Lumina watched the vision, her ears low and her hands clasped at her chest. Her expression was not jealousy exactly.
It was hope.
A small, quiet hope she seemed almost ashamed of.
Skye glanced at her. “Lume?”
Lumina didn’t look away from Celeste kneeling before Bonbon.
“She went in with her,” Lumina whispered.
Skye nodded. “Yeah.”
Lumina’s fingers tightened. “Do you think… when it’s my turn…”
She didn’t finish.
But Skye understood.
He reached over and gently brushed his paw against hers. “I think she would.”
Inside the Trial, Celeste’s eyes were wet.
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead gently to Bonbon’s.
“Dw i’n addo,” she whispered. “Mi fydda i yma. Tan mae hi’n dod. Ac os nad yw hi’n dod… dw i yma o hyd.”
I promise. I will be here. Until she comes. And if she doesn’t come… I am still here.
Bonbon’s face crumpled.
This time, when she cried, it was not silent.
Celeste opened her arms, and Bonbon crawled straight into them, sobbing into her robes.
The grey world shivered.
A single note rose from Bonbon’s throat.
Tiny.
Trembling.
Barely there.
Celeste held her tighter and hummed with her.
Not perfectly.
Not even especially well.
But softly.
Steadily.
The note grew.
With each breath, the grey around them loosened. The broken memories softened, their edges filling with colour. Rain turned silver. The open door filled with warm light. The comic convention banner fluttered in a breeze that smelled faintly of sugar and moss.
Bonbon’s sobs slowed.
Her song strengthened.
Not words.
Just a tiny melody.
The kind only a child sings to herself in the dark.
High and unsure.
But beautiful.
Celeste rocked her gently, whispering, “Dyna ti. Dyna fy merch ddewr.”
There you are. There’s my brave girl.
Bonbon’s wings began to bloom.
Tiny and iridescent, they unfolded from her back in shimmering layers like glass petal fans. Her freckles glowed faintly with soft pink and gold motes. Light gathered around her feet.
From her throat came a clear, hopeful sound—not just singing now, but magic.
Not loud.
Not blazing.
Warm.
Alive.
Fairy.
Not the kind with tricks or little spells.
The rare kind.
The kind whose very presence makes others believe tomorrow is possible.
Celeste stayed with her.
Hand in hand.
Voice beside voice.
As Bonbon’s final note faded, the scenes of chaos gently stilled.
The wind slowed.
The world settled.
Bonbon—barefoot and glowing softly—stood upright again, one paw still clutching Celeste’s hand.
The chip returned to her neck with a gentle click.
Her fairy wings disappeared.
Her freckles dimmed.
But the spark did not leave her eyes.
The Trial opened around them, returning them to the valley.
Bonbon looked up and saw the others waiting.
Then she turned to Celeste, still holding her hand.
“Mam,” she whispered, almost shyly. “Wnes i e?”
Mum. Did I do it?
Celeste smiled through tears. “Do, cariad. You did it.”
Bonbon ran into her arms anyway.
Celeste caught her instantly, hugging her so tightly she nearly lifted her off the ground.
“I was so scared,” Bonbon whispered, voice muffled against her shoulder.
Celeste’s own voice trembled. “Me too, bonnie. But you did it.”
She pressed a kiss between Bonbon’s ears.
“You found your light.”
Elder Arlo stepped forward last, placing his hand gently over Bonbon’s heart.
“Your magic is not for battle,” he said softly. “It is for the broken. The lost. The ones who forget what hope feels like.”
His gaze flicked briefly to Celeste, then back to Bonbon.
“Your gift is not destruction.”
His voice warmed.
“It is tomorrow.”
As he spoke, the air stirred faintly.
Soft pastel light drifted upward from Bonbon’s fur—tiny motes that unfolded into glowing butterflies, each one shining like stained glass in the dusk.
They spiralled through the valley, circling the hybrids and Mythics alike.
Even the elders smiled, awe-struck as they landed softly on manes, shoulders, and paws.
Bonbon giggled, stretching out her arms. “Mam! Edrychwch! Pili-pala!”
Mum! Look! Butterflies!
Celeste’s heart swelled as the valley filled with fluttering light.
She pressed her forehead to Bonbon’s and whispered, her voice soft and proud, “Ti’n wir fêrie, cariad. Ti’n hud.”
You truly are a fairy, my love. You’re magic.
The butterflies rose higher, scattering like blessings into the sky.
For a moment, even the stars seemed to pause and watch.
Lumina stood a little way off, watching Celeste and Bonbon together.
Her face was soft.
Not jealous.
Not angry.
Just aching with a quiet wish she had not yet learned how to ask for.
When Celeste looked over, Lumina gave a tiny smile.
It trembled.
But it was there.
The butterflies had barely faded before the tone in the valley shifted again.
The elders began murmuring among themselves—quiet, clipped, urgent.
Their eyes flicked between Celeste and Lumina, between the sisters who stood side by side yet somehow worlds apart.
