The floor beneath them pulsed.
Bardic runes spread from the well in rings of blue-white light, crawling beneath cracked stone and melted candy residue like living roots. Each symbol brightened, dimmed, then brightened again, searching for rhythm.
Searching for her.
Celeste stood at the centre of it, barely breathing.
The runes beneath her feet shifted direction all at once.
They turned inward.
Toward her chest.
Toward her core.
A thin strand of mana rose from the floor, then another, then another — delicate as thread, bright as lightning caught in glass. They reached for her, trembling with ancient intent.
Lumina’s eyes flashed pink.
The strands recoiled.
The runes flickered.
The system tried again.
Blue-white light climbed toward Celeste’s core, but Lumina clung to her arm, and every time the connection neared completion, pink light rippled outward and broke it apart.
Arcade stared at the readings on his bracer. “It’s trying to establish a core-link, but something’s nullifying the handshake.”
“Something?” Ray snapped. “That something is Lumina!”
Lumina looked terrified but she stayed locked in place.
Celeste’s eyes went blank.
When she spoke, the voice that came out was not quite hers.
It was older.
Colder.
Layered with a grief so deep it sounded almost royal.
“Rwy’n gorchymyn i chi stopio,” she said in Bardic, each word making the floor flare. “Pam nad oes dim yn ateb?”
Arcade swallowed. “Translation?”
CHIP’s voice was unusually quiet. “I command you to stop. Why does nothing answer?”
Hughes’ face drained of colour. “Celeste…”
Celeste did not look at him.
The runes continued to pulse around her, searching, failing, searching again.
“Hughes,” he said more firmly, stepping forward. “Lass, stop.”
Celeste slowly raised one hand.
The runes snapped toward him.
Her glowing eyes fixed on Hughes like he was not a person, but a console waiting for orders.
“Ti yno,” she said softly. “Dywed wrthyf… pam yr wyf yn dal i syrthio i gwsg? Pam nad oes dim yn gwrando ar fy nghân?”
Hughes froze.
Completely.
One foot forward.
One hand lifted.
Eyes wide.
Not breathing.
Pitch jerked toward him. “Hughes?”
No answer.
“Hughes, move!”
Still nothing.
Pitch’s voice cracked into panic, southern drawl sharpening under fear. “Oh, hell no. Goat-man, you best start movin’ right now before I drag you by the horns!”
Hughes remained locked in place, staring at Celeste as though he had seen something standing behind her.
CHIP translated, softer this time.
“You there. Tell me… why do I keep falling asleep? Why does nothing listen to my song?”
Celeste’s raised hand trembled.
Lumina whimpered and tightened her grip around Celeste’s waist.
The pink glow surged.
The Bardic runes shattered into sparks.
Celeste gasped.
Then dropped.
Mezzo lunged forward and caught her before she hit the floor. “Whoa — gotcha, Cece!”
For one awful second, she hung limp in his arms.
Then her eyes fluttered open.
Normal again.
Confused.
Frightened.
“Mezzo?” she whispered.
Mezzo let out a shaky laugh. “Aye. Still me. Tragically handsome. Very available for not being possessed by ancient floor writing.”
Behind them, Hughes inhaled sharply.
The paralysis broke.
He stumbled back, nearly dropping his crook. Bark flickered across his cheek and vanished again, leaves ghosting at his collar before sinking beneath his fur.
Ray grabbed his shoulder. “Hughes?”
He didn’t answer at first.
His eyes were still fixed on Celeste.
Horrified.
Like he had not merely been frozen.
Like he had remembered something that did not belong to him.
“Hughes,” Pitch said, quieter now. “What did you see?”
Hughes swallowed hard.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “And that worries me more.”
The chamber speakers crackled.
This time, the Bardic announcement was louder.
Sharper.
Urgent.
“RHYBUDD. Puriad mana yn cychwyn. Gadael y parth mewnol ar unwaith.”
Arcade went pale.
CHIP translated with distressingly cheerful precision.
“Warning. Mana purge commencing. Evacuate inner zone immediately.”
Ray’s eyes widened. “Mana purge?”
Hughes’ crook flared with runes as he shouted, “RUN! MOVE, ALL OF YOU!”
The shockwave hit.
Celeste stumbled, her katanas flickering into existence on instinct, her core glowing wildly, pulses of radiant mana spilling from her like a storm barely held back. Lumina clung to her arm, their energy still faintly tangled, the two of them blazing with impossible hues — Celeste blue-white, Lumina soft pink.
Mezzo grabbed Topsy, dragging her behind a pillar as the floor cracked open.
Arcade shielded CHIP with his body, yelling something lost in the roar of magic.
And from within the light—
something ancient stirred.
Something that knew her name.
They sprinted through the corridors, boots splashing through melted candy and mana residue as the roar of magic thundered behind them. The light chased them all the way to the entrance — Bardic warnings echoing overhead, wisps streaming after Celeste like frightened stars.
Mezzo kept swatting at them as he ran. “No! Bad glow-bugs! Find another magical cat!”
Pitch looked over his shoulder at the light swallowing the corridor behind them.
“Well,” he drawled, voice tight, “I reckon we oughta get gone faster than a sinner in Sunday shoes.”
Then, just as suddenly, the roar stopped.
For a moment, silence.
Then a low hum rolled through the ground.
Outside, the entire horizon came alive. Every pylon across the landscape flared to life, brighter than they had in decades — lines of azure energy weaving across the terrain like veins awakening after a long sleep. The candy-coated ruins shimmered in the glow, turning Clawdiff’s outskirts into a surreal, glittering paradise of light and colour.
The freed prisoners and rescued captives stood in awe, whispering prayers and disbelief. Even the air smelled sweeter, charged with mana and ozone.
Ray leaned on her hammer, exhaling. “Well… at least that worked.”
Then she turned sharply toward Celeste.
“What the hell happened back there?”
Celeste blinked, still catching her breath. “What?”
Ray pointed back toward the power plant, where blue-white light still pulsed through broken windows and cracked walls. “The well. You touched the well, went all glowing again, started making the whole building wake up like it’d had ten cups of coffee and a religious experience.”
Celeste’s ears flattened. “I did?”
Ray stared at her. “You don’t remember?”
Celeste looked down at her hands. They were still trembling faintly. “I’m sorry. I just remember… going to sleep.”
Pitch’s eyes narrowed. “Hughes went all weird too. Froze up like somebody hit pause on him. Then the well lit up the whole damn power plant.” His gaze flicked to Celeste, not cruel but sharp with fear. “What the hell was that, Kitten?”
Celeste looked toward Hughes.
He stood a few steps away, rain and mana-light gleaming on his glasses. His grip on his crook was too tight. His face looked distant, hollowed out by whatever he had seen.
“Hughes?” Celeste asked softly.
He didn’t answer.
Skye, tucked close to Lumina, looked up at Celeste with wide, unsettled eyes. “There was something inside you, wasn’t there?”
Celeste went very still.
Arcade quickly cut in, though even he didn’t sound fully convinced. “Probably the well. We have no idea what those things actually do. That’s why the Council locked them up after the Great Summoning. No one is allowed near the wells anymore. Not scholars, not engineers, not even licensed mana specialists.”
He pointed at Celeste, voice cracking slightly with leftover terror. “Which is why, Celeste, you should not touch one.”
Celeste’s face crumpled.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to. Well, I sort of meant to look, but not touch. And then it was glowing, and there was a voice, and Lumina grabbed me, and then I think I ruined everything. Or fixed it? Or possibly both, which is worse, because then nobody knows whether to be cross or grateful, and I don’t know which face to make for that.”
Mezzo blinked. “That was… a lot.”
Celeste wrung her hands. “I’m sorry. I’ll make a list. No touching wells. No glowing at ancient machinery. No accidentally becoming a public utility. That’s probably important.”
Ray’s anger softened despite herself.
Pitch exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “No matter. We’re alive. The city’s got barriers. That’s more than we had five minutes ago.”
He glanced toward the landing area.
“Let’s find the van. They’re probably waitin’ on us.”
Celeste nodded, still pale. “Right. Yes. Van. That sounds normal. I’d like normal.”
Then she frowned. “Wait… where’s the van?”
Mezzo threw his hands up. “Oh, fantastic! Brilliant! They left us here to die! Ten outta ten Council operation!”
Ray smirked, stretching her arms. “Eh, it’s fine. We’ll just walk home. Builds character.”
Arcade groaned dramatically. “Walk? With these trainers? No, no, no — walking is for peasants. I need to retrieve the data I deleted earlier and start designing a flying van. Something dignified. Maybe with cup holders.”
CHIP beeped cheerfully. “Acknowledged: peasant-free transport in progress.”
The light still shimmered across the horizon, casting everything in a haunting, ethereal blue. As the mana current steadied, the freed captives slowly began to stir — first in confusion, then in awe.
All around them, life returned to motion.
Some fell to their knees, hands clasped together, whispering prayers of gratitude to Motherlight or the stars. Others simply stared up at the glowing pylons, tears cutting paths through the candy dust on their faces.
A young Mythic fox murmured, “The lights… they’re alive again…”
Another, a ragged Hybrid with mechanical implants, blinked at the skyline. “What… what happened to Clawdiff? It wasn’t like this before.”
No one had an answer.
Across the clearing, a group of survivors began scavenging the remains of the fallen Council soldiers — pulling off armour plates, collecting weapons, or prying rations from cracked supply crates. The faint hum of hover-bikes echoed somewhere in the distance, followed by the sound of laughter — half relief, half hysteria — as people realised they were finally free.
Some ran.
Some wept.
Some simply stood in place, too shocked to move.
Celeste watched them scatter, her tail twitching. “They’re… just leaving?”
Hughes nodded slowly, the faint glow of the pylons reflected in his glasses. “Wouldn’t you? After bein’ trapped down here? They’ve got no idea what world’s waitin’ for ’em up top.”
Ray leaned on her hammer, expression unreadable. “The same one that left them here.”
Arcade adjusted his Arcbracer, the light flickering as he checked the readings. “Mana flow’s stabilising across all channels. Leyline’s running hot but steady. We did it.”
“Yeah,” Mezzo muttered, hands on his hips, “and apparently our ride decided not to wait around for the heroes. Typical.”
He turned, glaring at the empty landing pad where the hovervan had been. “Brilliant! Just leave the Hybrids in zombie land, why not?!”
As they bickered, Elder Arlo stood a little apart from the group, his long robe swaying in the breeze. The mana light reflected softly in his pale eyes.
“Ah,” he murmured, his tone almost wistful. “It seems you have restored the pylons… Kymara.”
Celeste froze mid-step, ears twitching. “Wait — what did you just call me?”
The elder smiled faintly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Kymara. The name of those who bridge what should never meet. It suits you.”
Celeste blinked, tail curling nervously. “I — I think you’ve got the wrong cat. I’m not—”
“Ah, but you are,” Arlo interrupted gently, already turning away. “All shall be revealed when next we meet.”
Mezzo crossed his arms. “Oh, come on! You can’t just drop cryptic lore and walk off like some mysterious grandpa!”
Arlo didn’t even glance back. “And yet, I can.”
The group stood there in stunned silence as the old Mythic wandered off into the glittering haze of the mana field.
After a long pause, Mezzo muttered, “He didn’t even do anything.”
Topsy, rummaging through her bag, chirped, “He did vibe, though. Like, big mysterious energy. Ten outta ten for drama.”
Celeste giggled, the tension finally breaking. “Yeah… I think we’ve had enough drama for one day.”
Arcade sighed. “Speak for yourself. I still need to figure out how to explain to the Council that we didn’t, you know, blow up their power grid.”
Hughes smirked, leaning on his crook. “Good luck with that, lad. I’ll be napping until the inquisition starts.”
And as the restored pylons pulsed gently in the distance, the Knights of Clawdiff stood together — battered, glowing, and very possibly in trouble — but alive.
