Celeste walked along the ruined shore, her sandals crunching through salt and broken glass.
The world around her was quiet—the kind of quiet that followed something terrible.
Boats lay in splintered heaps, their hulls cracked open like candy shells. The tide lapped at wreckage and at the bodies strewn across the beach—Purebloods, Mythics, Hybrids—faces she didn’t know, all of them pale and still. The sugary water shimmered faintly, pixelated corpses dissolving into glowing motes before the waves carried them away.
Her stomach twisted. “Oh, stars…” she whispered, voice small and trembling. “It’s… it’s all gone wrong again, hasn’t it?”
As she neared the campsite, the silence broke. Survivors huddled beneath torn tarps and improvised tents. Carys knelt beside a wounded Mythic, her hands glowing with sparkshots. Bracer and Plum worked side by side, sorting through supplies and splinting what they could. Bonbon darted back and forth, handing out water bottles nearly as big as she was.
The air was thick with exhaustion—and hope that hadn’t quite died.
Above the chaos, Marzipan wheeled through the morning sky like a great white ghost of paper and sugar.
Flying candy-zombies swarmed over the fleeing survivors in ragged, screeching flocks — sticky-winged horrors with toffee claws and sherbet jaws snapping at anything that moved. But Marzipan dove straight into them without hesitation, her paper-candy wings slicing the air in great sharp arcs. She barreled through one cluster, scattering them in a spray of spun sugar and crackling flame, then snapped her jaws at another until the creatures veered away from the crowd below.
For a moment, it worked.
The survivors ran.
Children were dragged behind parents. Bags and bundles were clutched to chests. A few wounded Mythics stumbled forward, urged on by frightened Hybrids and desperate Purebloods alike. Marzipan circled above them again, chasing off another screeching flock before it could descend.
But panic made people stupid.
One of the survivors looked up, saw her pale body against the light, and shouted, “There’s another one!”
In an instant, fear turned on her.
Loose stones were hurled skyward. Broken bottles. Bits of driftwood. Someone threw a boot. A man with a frying pan actually tried to hit her with it, despite the dragon being very much in the air and him very much not.
Marzipan jerked back mid-flight, startled.
Then offended.
A shell bounced uselessly off one of her folded scales. A child’s bucket spun past her nose. Someone else yelled, “Get away from us, beast!”
Marzipan gave a wounded, indignant sound, half hiss and half sulk. She hovered there for a heartbeat, clearly debating whether saving people was worth this level of rudeness.
Apparently, it was not.
With an offended flap of her great paper wings, she turned sharply away from the mob and flew toward the city instead, her tail flicking in visible irritation as the survivors below continued running, too frightened or foolish to realise the dragon they’d just insulted had been protecting them.
By the time the others caught sight of her heading inland, Marzipan looked deeply, personally betrayed by the concept of public service.
Celeste tried to call out to Marzipan, but she flew ahead.
Then, a ripple of mana moved through the air like a sigh.
The Knights’ bracers flickered one by one—connection restored.
Mezzo’s core flared first. He jolted upright, blinking. “Wait… that’s—”
His head snapped toward the beach. His eyes widened.
“Celeste?”
Before she could answer, he was already running—his speed kicking up sand behind him, a streak of blue and gold across the wreckage. He skidded to a stop just before her and threw his arms around her with a laugh that cracked from relief.
“You’re alive! Holy feckin’ stars, you’re actually alive!”
Celeste blinked, startled by the hug, then laughed through tears. “I think so… I might be a ghost. Are you sure you can still feel me?”
He squeezed tighter. “Yep. Squishy. Definitely alive.”
The others arrived soon after—Arcade, Skye, Lumina, and Ray, their mana signatures snapping back into balance.
“Guess the signal’s back,” Arcade muttered, tapping his arcbracer. “Never doubted it for a second.”
Then—a shadow.
Something large and uneven approached from the edge of the dunes.
The group tensed immediately, weapons raised.
The figure stumbled into view, fur matted, breath ragged—Pitch, still in his werewolf form.
“Pitch…” Celeste breathed.
He swayed, claws digging into the sand. His eyes—wild gold—met hers for half a second before his knees buckled.
He collapsed into the sand with a heavy thud, his body shrinking, reshaping—until the wolf was gone and only Pitch remained, unconscious, trembling, and human once more.
The surf hissed softly in the background as Celeste fell to her knees beside him.
“Welcome back,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.
Pitch stirred, groaning. “Missed me?” he croaked, voice hoarse but charming all the same.
Ray crossed her arms. “Where did you run off to, huh?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I hoped I could stall him… should’ve told you my plan first, shouldn’t I?”
“Duh,” Ray said dryly. “That would’ve been great.”
Pitch chuckled weakly. “Can’t really talk much when I’m like that. I’ll, uh… try to leave a note next time.”
Ray rolled her eyes and looked to Celeste and the others. “Thanks for not attacking him, by the way.”
Mezzo snorted. “You’re welcome—but I was this close to drop-kickin’ him back into next week.”
Celeste smiled softly. “You did look pretty cool like that, though.”
Pitch flashed her a grin and winked. “Didn’t realise you had a type.”
Celeste blinked, confused for a heartbeat—then caught the meaning and went scarlet. “Oh! I—no—I mean—!”
Mezzo laughed. “Oh, he so got you there, lass!”
Even battered and bruised, Pitch’s chuckle joined theirs, warm and teasing under the crash of the waves.
Celeste’s arcbracer flickered to life, its crystal core glowing with the distinct sigil of the Council of Sight. A soft chime sounded before Lady Umbranox’s composed voice cut through the static.
“Knights. Report. There appears to be… activity on the beach and—”
She paused, her voice lowering with a trace of something that almost sounded like disbelief.
“—is that beachwear, Commander?”
Celeste’s tail froze mid-flick. “Camouflage, my lady!” she said quickly, trying not to sound like a student caught doodling in class. “It’s, uh—tactical! Very hot conditions today, and we don’t have official uniforms yet, ma’am.”
A long, very unamused silence followed.
Then:
“Hmm. That needs to be rectified. Very well. What is the situation, Knight-Commander?”
Celeste straightened instinctively, shoulders back, trying to sound every bit like a responsible adult.
“The Kraken attacked civilians and ships along the southern coast. We managed to drive it back, but—”
“What ships?” Umbranox’s tone sharpened instantly.
Celeste winced. “Large ones, my lady. Cargo-class. Council markings. I believe they were supply carriers.”
Another pause—short, but heavy.
“Those are Council supply vessels, Knight-Commander. This will require immediate review. Return to base at once. I shall meet you there. You are dismissed.”
The line went dead.
Celeste exhaled so hard she nearly deflated.
Mezzo folded his arms, grinning despite the carnage. “Well, guess the camp’s over. Shame—I was just startin’ to enjoy not bein’ yelled at.”
Plum moved among the group, microphone clipped to her headset, recording notes into her wrist console. “I need to get a few accounts,” she said softly, glancing toward Celeste. “People need to know what really happened here.”
A few survivors gathered around her as she asked, “When did the attack start? What did you see?”
One of them, a drenched badger with a torn sleeve, answered shakily. “The beach was swarming with zombies. Hundreds of ’em. But then… when you lot showed up yesterday—they vanished. We thought it was over. We’d been hiding in the boats for days, waiting for help. Then that… that kraken came out of nowhere. It’s strange—it left us alone all that time. Like it was waiting.”
Plum frowned, her recorder blinking red as she saved the file. “So the kraken didn’t attack until we arrived?”
“Yeah,” the badger said, rubbing his arm. “Didn’t so much as stir before then.”
Mezzo’s grin faded. “Wait—if the real number of zombies was what they said…”
Celeste’s stomach tightened. “They should’ve been overrun.”
The two exchanged a glance, the same realization settling between them like a stone. Something—or someone—had been keeping the monsters at bay until now.
Celeste looked over the survivors again, her chest aching. They had been trapped here, terrified, while she and the team had been laughing and roasting marshmallows by the beachfire just hours before. The guilt hit like cold rain.
More voices rose from the survivors—tired, frightened, and divided.
A Pureblood fox snapped, “We should head back to the city! The Council will protect us better than some vigilantes in the woods.”
A horned Mythic dragon replied, “Council walls didn’t stop the dead. Brassmane’s still holding the Rustrows—we’ll be safer there.”
A group of Hybrids exchanged glances and shook their heads. “We’ll go to Beauty Park,” one said firmly. “The Knights helped us. That’s good enough.”
Nearby, sailors argued in low tones, their uniforms torn and soaked in brine. “If that kraken isn’t dealt with, we can’t fish,” one muttered. “There’s barely enough food left as it is. Imports are blocked by the barrier—nothing gets in or out of Clawdiff now.”
Ray crossed her arms, frowning. “How bad will it get?”
The sailor hesitated, then sighed. “Weeks, maybe less. If the farms are seeing the same problems, we’ll all be hungry before long.”
Plum’s ears flicked back as she tapped her recorder. “The Council will want to know about this.”
Celeste finally stepped forward, her voice steady despite the ache in her throat. “Then we’ll make sure they do.”
Around them, the survivors were still gathered near the wreckage—shaken, wounded, some clinging to each other, others simply staring out at the broken sea.
One stepped forward hesitantly. “What do we do now? Where do we go?”
Before Celeste could answer, Plum adjusted her headset and spoke with quiet authority. “Head to Beauty Park. Tell anyone you find that the Knights of Clawdiff are taking in survivors there. It’s safe ground—food, water, shelter.”
A few people murmured in disbelief, but most nodded, hope flickering in their eyes for the first time since dawn.
As the crowd began to move, Celeste glanced at the rising sun reflecting on the broken waves. Her heart ached, but her resolve hardened.
Celeste watched the light on the broken waves, her voice quiet but steady. “Let’s get back to Clawdiff… before Lady Umbranox finds a new reason to yell at us.”
Mezzo groaned. “Too late. She’s already got a feckin’ list.”
Mezzo fell into step beside her, quieter now. The usual spark in his voice had dulled, just a touch. “Hey… Cece.”
She turned, tail flicking.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “I’m… I’m sorry, y’know. In the cave—I tried to get back to ya when it started comin’ down. Rocks everywhere, couldn’t see a damn thing. Thought I lost ya for good.”
Celeste smiled softly, her voice gentle, the kind that could make sorrow sound like a lullaby. “You didn’t lose me, Mezzo. I’m still here.”
She touched his arm lightly. “And it worked out, didn’t it? Everyone’s safe. That’s what matters.”
He huffed, half a laugh, half a sigh. “Aye, well, still feels rotten. Nearly dug meself halfway to the core tryin’ to find ya.”
Celeste giggled, the sound small but genuine. “You’d have ended up in the Void if you kept digging that way.”
“Would’ve been worth it,” he said, grinning faintly. “So… how did ya get out, anyway? You just stroll through solid rock like it’s paper now?”
She looked down at the sand, voice turning wistful. “There was… a lynx. A strange one. He found me in the tunnels. Said some very odd things—and then these lights appeared, like tiny stars, guiding me up. When I woke, I was outside.”
Mezzo blinked, then gave her the most skeptical look imaginable. “A lynx, huh? With glowy lights?”
She nodded earnestly. “Mm-hm. He said my rune wasn’t a gift—it was a seal.”
He blinked again. “Right. Yep. Probably smacked your head on a rock in there. Happens to the best of us.” He clapped her gently on the shoulder. “C’mon, before you start hallucinatin’ a talking goldfish next. Let’s get you home, yeah?”
Celeste glanced back one last time, frowning. The cave she’d emerged from—the one she could swear had been there—was gone. Nothing but smooth cliffside, as if it had never existed.
“…That’s strange,” she murmured.
Mezzo waved her on, cheerful again. “Aye, well, so’s half the world lately. Keep walkin’, lass.”
She hesitated, then followed, the sun catching in her hair as the tide erased their footprints behind them.
