Celeste burst into camp like a panicked cartoon, sand flying everywhere as she grabbed the nearest blanket and tried to shake everyone awake.
“GUYS! Wake up, wake up!” she hissed, voice wobbling.
The group stirred. Bonbon sat up with a snort, hair stuck in her mouth. “Wha—why’re you shoutin’? Ti wlyb eto?!”
Mezzo groaned from his sleeping bag, face buried in a pillow. “Celeste… the sun’s still nappin’, an’ so am I, lass.”
Celeste puffed up, tail flaring, and flung a pillow straight at his head. “THERE’S A WEREWOLF!”
The pillow bounced off him with a soft thud.
Mezzo cracked one eye open, unimpressed. “First a sea monster, now a werewolf? What’s next, a haunted beach umbrella?”
Before Celeste could retort, a long, low howl rolled over the dunes—deep enough to vibrate through their bones.
Everyone sat bolt upright.
Ray blinked blearily. “Celeste, honey, are you goin’ all feral again, or do I actually need to get my hammer?”
Celeste flailed her arms wildly. “It’s not me! It’s a real werewolf! Big! Drooling! Chain-snapping!”
Ray rubbed at her eyes. “...Don’t we just call the police?”
There was a collective pause. Then realization hit her like a beach ball to the face.
“Oh right. Apocalypse. No police. Fan-bloody-tastic.”
Plum scrambled for her arcbracer, switching it to record mode. “Hold that thought, nobody move—I need visuals! We’re talkin’ front-page, post-collapse gold! ‘The Night the Werewolf Walked the Dunes!’ How’s that for a headline?”
Kirrin pinched the bridge of her nose. “Stars above, rabbit—do ye ever stop thinkin’ in headlines?”
Arcade looked around, ears twitching. “Okay, okay, hold on—where’s Pitch?”
Everyone froze.
Skye looked toward the empty tent. “Maybe he… um… had to pee?”
Mezzo squinted toward the dunes, tension creeping into his grin. “Aye, or maybe the werewolf’s takin’ itself a walk. Either way—someone’s about tae have a bad night.”
Celeste gulped. “You don’t think he’s—”
Another howl split the night, closer this time—followed by the distant sound of chains snapping.
“—okay never mind, he’s definitely not fine!” Celeste squeaked.
Ray stood, she summoned her hammer in her paw. “Right. Guess it’s a field trip then. Someone grab the flashlight and the idiot detector.”
Mezzo raised his hand. “Already found it. It’s us.”
Arcade adjusted his glasses, glancing at the motion scanner on his arcbracer. “Maybe the werewolf already ate him?”
“Very helpful,” Celeste muttered, swatting him on the arm.
A familiar pop and whir sounded as C.H.I.P. materialized beside Arcade, its holographic eyes flickering to life. “Scanning environment,” it announced in its perky, robotic voice. “I sense several lifeforms ahead—oh, look at that—Pitch is moving toward a cave. Alone. How brave. How stupid.”
“See?” Arcade said, smirking. “Even my robot agrees.”
Carys frowned, clutching her coat tighter. “Should we go after him?”
Ray’s tail flicked uneasily. “Yeah… I think so.”
Celeste blinked. “Are you okay, Ray? You look… worried.”
Ray’s ears twitched. “I’m fine.” A pause. Then, softer, “I’m fine. Just—feels wrong leavin’ anyone behind, that’s all.”
Celeste nodded, her expression softening. “Then let’s go find him.”
Lumina hopped to her feet, practically bouncing. “Yay! Adventure!”
Celeste held up a paw. “Not for you, little star. You stay here with Carys and Plum.”
Plum crossed her arms, already pulling out her pistol. “Oh, come on! I can fight! I’ll—”
The gun discharged with a loud zap, narrowly missing Ray’s ear and vaporizing part of a beach chair.
Ray blinked. “You were sayin’?”
Celeste sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fine. You can come. But no more accidental heroics, please.”
Plum grinned, flicking her recorder back on. “Excellent. The headline practically writes itself—‘Knights of Clawdiff Face Hairy Situation!’”
Mezzo groaned, running a paw down his face. “It’s going to be a long night.”
Carys stepped up beside Celeste, giving her a reassuring hug. “Don’t you worry about the little ones, dear. I’ll keep them safe, promise.”
Celeste smiled faintly. “Thank you, Carys.”
“Cheerio,” Carys said with a wink. “And do come back soon, dear—preferably in one piece.”
Celeste tightened her grip on her katanas, looked back at her mismatched band of exhausted heroes, and sighed.
“Alright then, team… let’s go rescue the idiot from the werewolf.”
Mezzo stretched, cracking his knuckles. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The moon hung low and pale over the water, painting the sand in silver and shadow. The only real light came from C.H.I.P.’s glowing eyes, two perfect blue beams sweeping across the beach like little spotlights.The group gathered at the edge of the dunes, steel in their eyes as Celeste led them to where she had seen the creature.
Twice, they were attacked by shambling candy-shell zombies—sticky things that cracked under Ray’s hammer like brittle toffee. She fought with brutal efficiency, her swings heavy and unrelenting, each strike like a thunderclap on the wind.
Mezzo joined the chaos with his musical fury, strumming and swinging his guitar-blade, each hit sending discordant ripples through the air.
“Rock and roll, baby!” he shouted, laughing even as sugar smoke filled the air.
Arcade unleashed Chip without ceremony. The tiny robot buzzed to life, jetpack hissing softly as it hovered a few feet off the ground.
“Chip, thermal scan. Priority search,” Arcade said.
Chip beeped cheerfully, eyes glowing. Then, with no filter, he launched into a rapid-fire stream of random facts. “Did you know a shrimp’s heart is in its head? Also, flamingos can only eat with their heads upside down. And people shed about 600,000 particles of skin every hour—ew, gross, right? But hey, those zombies might be losing more than just skin today!”
Arcade raised an eyebrow. “Focus, Chip.”
“Oh! Right, right,” Chip chirped. “Thermal scan activated! Searching for heat signatures that don’t belong.”
They walked in a loose line—Celeste up front, her katanas drawn but dim, their glow muted; Plum lagging behind with her recorder; and Mezzo, of course, making sound effects for every step.
“Creeeak… crunch… ooooh, spooky!” he whispered dramatically.
“Do you ever stop narrating?” Ray muttered, flicking sand at him.
“Not when the vibe’s this good,” Mezzo grinned.
Then Celeste stopped dead, ears pricking. “There! That’s where I tripped.”
C.H.I.P.’s light fell across a perfect sand imprint—an outline of Celeste’s body mid-fall, complete with a shocked, open-mouthed expression frozen into the sand.
Ray snorted. “It’s like a cartoon crime scene.”
Mezzo burst out laughing. “You left a fossil of fear! We should put a little plaque next to it—‘Here fell Commander Astallan, Slayer of Sand.’”
Celeste puffed her cheeks. “It wasn’t funny at the time!”
“Sure looks funny now,” Ray said, still chuckling.
But Mezzo’s laughter trailed off when his gaze drifted farther down the shore.
“Uh… lads?”
Chains. Heavy, broken ones, half-buried in the sand. Deep claw marks scored the seawall, frantic and uneven.
Plum knelt beside them, camera flashing. “Documenting this! Oh, this is big. Maybe horrifying, but definitely big!”
Kirrin crouched low, her sharp eyes scanning the marks. “This one was big,” she murmured, tracing a claw groove with her paw. “And afraid.”
Arcade tilted his head. “Afraid? You can tell that from scratches?”
Kirrin shot him a look. “Aye. These aren’t attack marks—they’re restraint. Whatever it was, it didn’t want to hurt anyone.” She pointed at the way the claws curved inward.
Arcade crossed his arms. “Uh-huh. And I’m a cinnamon bun that doesn’t talk back.”
“More like burnt toast, mate.” Mezzo muttered.
C.H.I.P. blinked, sensors whirring. “Analysis complete. Large lifeform detected. Tracking leads… there.”
The group followed the beam to a jagged mouth in the rocks—a cave half-hidden by seaweed and shadow, where the paw prints led straight in.
Mezzo exhaled slowly. “Well, tin can wasn’t lying. There’s your cave.”
C.H.I.P.’s voice chimed smugly. “I am never wrong, only underappreciated.”
Celeste squinted toward the dark opening, her tail bristling slightly. “You’re sure Pitch is in there?”
“Affirmative,” C.H.I.P. said, voice positively smug. “One lifeform matches his signature. Probably still alive. Probably.”
“Probably?” Celeste echoed, eyes widening.
Arcade sighed. “See? This is why I should’ve installed a sarcasm filter.”
C.H.I.P. buzzed happily. “No fun in that.”
Celeste tightened her grip on her katanas, took a breath, and nodded. “Alright then, Knights… let’s go find our missing gambler.”
The waves crashed behind them as they crept toward the cave — each step echoing in time with the distant, ragged breathing that waited in the dark.
Then a flare of fire lit the rocks ahead.
Everyone stopped.
Beyond the jagged mouth of the cavern, Marzipan stood between the cave entrance and a scattered cluster of candy-shell zombies. Her huge white paper-candy wings were half-spread, one claw dug into the sand, her head lowered in warning.
A scratch cut across one side of her face, bright against the soft sugared folds of her cheek.
Around her, zombies burned.
Blue-white candy flame clung to them, crackling through brittle shells and melting sugar limbs into blackened syrup. The creatures had clearly been trying to follow something — or someone — into the cave.
And by the stars, Marzipan had not been letting them.
Celeste’s heart lurched. “Marzipan!”
The dragon turned at the sound of her voice. Her expression softened at once, though smoke still curled from her jaws.
The team hurried forward, weapons raised just in case any of the burning zombies twitched.
Ray crushed one under her hammer with a wet crack. “Stay down.”
Mezzo kicked another half-melted husk away from the cave mouth. “Well, this is cheerful.”
Celeste ran up to Marzipan, eyes wide as she looked at the scratch. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where’s Pitch?”
Marzipan pointed one claw carefully at the scratch on her face.
Then she pointed toward the cave.
Celeste’s ears lowered. “Pitch went in there?”
Marzipan nodded.
Mezzo’s grin faded. “Must’ve run inside. And she was trying to stop the werewolf from followin’ him.”
Ray looked toward the cave, concern tightening her face. “Or stop the zombies from following both of them.”
Arcade glanced at the melted remains, then at Marzipan. “Either way… thanks for letting us know.”
Marzipan dipped her head.
C.H.I.P. hovered closer, scanning her face. “Minor damage detected. Dragon morale: oddly smug.”
Marzipan gave a quiet, pleased rumble.
Celeste rested a paw gently against Marzipan’s snout. “You did really well.”
The dragon chirped, then turned as if to follow them into the cave.
She took one step.
Then stopped.
Her horns scraped the upper rock.
Her wings pressed awkwardly against both sides of the entrance.
For one long, deeply undignified moment, Marzipan tried to angle herself through the gap.
She could not fit.
Mezzo stared.
Ray folded her arms.
Arcade lifted one brow. “Physics wins again.”
Marzipan let out an enormous sigh, the kind that belonged to someone entirely done with caves, werewolves, zombies, and everyone’s nonsense.
Celeste gave her a sympathetic smile. “Maybe wait here? Just in case anything else tries to get in?”
Marzipan huffed, then nodded.
She settled heavily in front of the cavern mouth, tail curling across the sand like a living barricade. Smoke curled faintly from her nostrils as she watched the darkness with narrowed eyes.
Celeste looked back once more.
“Be careful,” she said.
Marzipan gave a soft rumble in reply.
Then the Knights stepped into the cave, leaving the moonlight, the waves, and the great paper-candy dragon guarding the entrance behind them.
