Silent circled her like a shark, boots whispering over the polished stone floor. His armor barely moved, but his shadow rippled across the walls in jagged slices, cutting through the dim light. Celeste sat rigid in the chair, wrists locked to the armrests by humming restraints, tail wound tight against her legs.
She tried to look past him, squinting at the darkened glass beyond. All she could see was the council’s emblem etched across it—a burning eye shaped like a sun, lines of gold and red pulsing faintly as if alive. No faces. No expressions. Just the insignia staring back at her. Watching.
She knew what that meant. If she answered wrong, if she slipped even once, her friends would suffer. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She wished, just for a heartbeat, that her father would come crashing through the door and tear this whole place down. But there was nobody to save her now. She felt as helpless as a kitten.
Celeste’s throat went dry. She stared at the floor, not daring to blink.
The voice continued, smooth as silk drawn over a blade.
“I am Caedrix Umbranox Arcturus, Matron of Sight, and for the duration of this inquiry, I am your appointed interrogator under the Noble Security and Public Safety Act.”
The words meant nothing to Celeste.
Or they should have meant nothing.
But the way Silent stood straighter told her enough.
Umbranox went on. “That act permits a recognised noble house to restrain, isolate, and examine any mana user deemed a threat to national security, public safety, or the stability of the realm.”
Celeste’s wrists strained against the restraints. “I’m not a threat.”
“No,” Umbranox said softly. “Not knowingly.”
The glass in front of Celeste flickered.
A holographic image snapped into being above the table.
Celeste saw herself.
Not as she felt now — frightened, chained, helpless — but standing in the courtyard, glowing with impossible light. Her weapon formed in her hands, bright and sharp, pulled from nothing but instinct and mana. The footage slowed, zooming in on the flare of energy around her palms, the flicker of her eyes, the rune at her throat pulsing uselessly against it.
Umbranox’s voice sharpened with interest.
“But this is what concerns me.”
Celeste said nothing.
She only stared.
They knew.
They had seen.
The room seemed to shrink around her.
Umbranox let the footage play again. The weapon appeared. The rune sparked. The mana ignored it entirely.
“You wear a suppressor rune,” Umbranox said. “One designed to stop mana use at the source. It should prevent manifestation, weapon-calling, summoning, uncontrolled flare events… all of it.”
The hologram froze on Celeste’s glowing hands.
“And yet, there you are.”
Celeste’s voice came out thin. “I don’t know how I did that.”
“Perhaps.” Umbranox sounded almost thoughtful. “Or perhaps your rune has been tampered with.”
Panic punched through Celeste’s chest.
“No,” she blurted. “No, I didn’t touch it. I swear I didn’t. I didn’t even know what it was supposed to do until—”
“Until recently?” Umbranox finished.
Celeste went still.
Behind the glass, Umbranox’s shadow shifted.
“That is for me to find out.”
Celeste’s breath caught.
“How did you acquire your powers?” the voice pressed.
She bit her lip. For once, lying didn’t even occur to her.
The truth slipped out in a breathless rush.
“I… I ate a gumball.”
Silence. Heavy. Crushing.
When the voice returned, it was sharper. Dangerous.
“Do not insult me with such drivel. You wear a suppressor rune, yet you call upon mana as though it were breath itself. That is not possible. Now—once more. Where did you get your powers?”
Celeste flinched, chains clinking as she shook her head.
“I’m telling you, it was a gumball! Just a silly sweet at Comic Con. I didn’t know it would—”
“Enough.”
A clawed hand darted forward from the shadows. Sparks hissed between fingers.
Silent pressed his palm to the rune at her throat—lightning arced into her body.
Celeste screamed, back arching, every nerve blazing white fire.
“Again. Where did you get your powers?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She whimpered through the pain.
“It—ah—it really was just a gumball! Sugar… or Zygurr—I can’t remember exactly! They were giving them out, I swear! Please, I’m not lying!”
The room went still.
Behind the glass, the black-smoke Maine Coon in a long black-and-gold Council dress slowly lowered her quill.
Lady Umbranox.
Her golden eyes narrowed, the name sparking recognition.
Zygurr.
Lady Umbranox’s voice cut through the silence, calm but sharp as glass.
“Tell me how you use your powers.”
Celeste’s throat went dry. She shifted against the chains, the spotlight heat making her fur damp.
“I… I don’t really know. I just feel it here—” she touched her chest with a trembling paw “—like a little spark. My arms tingle, and then my blades come out. It’s like… like breathing, really.”
Silent stepped closer, paw already crackling with lightning, the glow menacing on his dark fur.
“Wrong answer,” he growled. Fire flared in his palm, ready to strike.
Celeste panicked, words tumbling out fast, almost pleading:
“No—please! That’s all I know! It’s just a feeling! Like breathing—like it’s always been there, I don’t know what it is!”
Umbranox’s quill paused over the parchment. Her voice lowered, dangerous in its steadiness.
“What you describe is a mana core.”
The room went still.
Her words struck like a hammer—each syllable deliberate, inevitable.
“Hybrids do not have them. Yet you do. And you are no mythic, girl. You are a hybrid.”
Celeste’s breath hitched. She lowered her eyes, shame and fear swirling together.
Umbranox gestured silently.
Silent reached into his coat and produced a small crystalline orb, its surface etched with runes. He activated it with a touch, and it floated forward, humming softly.
Celeste flinched when it hovered around her face. Then down her arms. Across her chest.
It tingled—light as feather-brushes—like sparks dancing over her fur. She wriggled with an involuntary giggle.
“Ah—stop, it tickles!”
Silent’s ears flicked in annoyance, but he kept the crystal steady until it pulsed bright and returned to his paw.
He handed it back to the observation window.
Lady Umbranox took it.
She glanced at the readout projected across the crystal’s surface, scanning the figures, the genome signature, the anomalies. Her golden eyes froze. Her quill slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
“…Impossible.”
She stared at the data, her reflection fractured in the crystal’s glow.
“This cannot be.”
With a flick of her claws, she pulled up a larger holographic pane—rows of council-grade files spilling into the air. The header flashed RESTRICTED // PATRON OF SIGHT ACCESS ONLY.
“Your data is council grade,” she said, voice tight, “but I do not believe I—or the previous Patron of Sight—ever authorised this.”
Celeste flinched. “I don’t know! I don’t even remember getting it!”
“That’s a lie.” Umbranox’s eyes cut into her. “All hybrids receive their runes at age five—after their first flare-up. It is standard law.”
“I never had a flare,” Celeste whispered, trembling. “I swear. I don’t remember anything like that.”
Umbranox stared at her, the holographic files reflecting off her golden eyes, her tone suddenly more curious than cruel.
“Then what are you, hm?” she murmured.
The chains rattled as Celeste tried to shrink back, Silent’s icy shard pressing closer to her throat. Frost kissed her fur. Her breath fogged in the cold, and her heart thundered in her ears.
Lady Umbranox’s voice sliced through the silence, each syllable deliberate.
“Tell me… why is your last name Astallan?”
Celeste’s breath hitched. Her whole body trembled, but she forced the words out, broken and small.
“I… I got it from my dad.”
“And who is your father?” Umbranox pressed, her tone like a blade across stone.
Tears welled in Celeste’s eyes. She shook her head desperately.
“Please—don’t hurt him. I’m the one who ran away, I’m the one who broke the rules. He… he isn’t to blame.”
Umbranox’s jaw tightened.
“What are you talking about, mutt? I don’t have patience for riddles.”
Celeste sobbed, the words tumbling out in raw panic.
“My dad kept me in the manor… he said it was to protect me, but I never understood. I thought he was just trying to control me. I didn’t know there was a reason.”
She gulped down air, voice shaking.
“But I left. Melody helped me—I went to university in Clawdiff—I shouldn’t have left. I didn’t know. Please, don’t hurt him. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“His name.” Umbranox demanded, each word a whip crack.
Silent pushed the shard harder against her throat, a cold sting that made Celeste cry out.
“KENAZ!” she blurted. “Kenaz Astallan!”
The world seemed to stop.
Umbranox didn’t speak. She didn’t breathe.
She stared at the trembling girl chained to the chair. At her ragdoll curls, the streak of dragonfire crystal. Her jawline. Her ears.
Kenaz. That was his face. His storm-blessed fire.
But the eyes…
Her golden eyes narrowed.
Those eyes were not his.
She had seen them once, long ago. A pair of shimmering sky-blue eyes like Kenaz but the shape, The way she looked, wide with wonder.
Her eyes. Her best friend.
Lady Umbranox’s fingers clenched around the mana crystal so tightly it cracked.
“…So it was him,” she whispered, almost to herself. “It really was him.”
She straightened, visibly shaken.
“Stars help us.”
Silent looked over, surprised by her reaction.
Umbranox stared at Celeste again—not as a prisoner. Not even as a hybrid.
But as something impossible.
A ghost made flesh.
“Kenaz Astallan…” she breathed.
Her voice broke on the name. Just a little.
Lady Umbranox remained still, the cracked mana crystal glowing faintly in her hand.
Then Umbranox’s voice slid back through the speaker—calm but cold.
“Where is he now, half-breed?”
She scoffed. “Hells, I wouldn’t even call you that if you're who I suspect. Quarter-breed, perhaps.”
Celeste flinched at the word, but forced her voice out, thin and trembling.
“I… I haven’t spoken to him in months. I thought he was still training somewhere.”
Umbranox arched a brow, lips curling.
“Training, you say?”
Celeste nodded. “He… he was in the military. Something about silver bullets.”
Umbranox corrected her instantly, with the faintest ghost of a smirk.
“The Silver Arrows, dear. And yes. I know precisely who he is.”
A heavy pause followed. The weight of it sank into the room like stone.
Lady Umbranox remained still, the cracked mana crystal glowing faintly in her hand.
Her voice, when it returned, had hardened to ice.
“Add her companions to the criminal list. All of them. Anyone in the safehouse.”
Celeste jolted. “Wait—what?!”
“They will join her in custody,” Umbranox continued smoothly, as if reading off a menu. “That includes the wolf. The goat. The rabbit. The fox. The small panda, and any others housed at that location.”
Celeste’s mouth fell open, horror rising like bile. “No—no, some of them are just kids!”
Umbranox’s eyes narrowed.
“Yet not without guilt,” she said coolly. “We do not execute children, of course… but an education camp is not out of the question.”
Celeste’s voice cracked. “My sister—she’s only seven!”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Umbranox’s posture stiffened, fingers twitching slightly.
“…A sister?” she said slowly. “A younger sister?”
She stepped back from the mic. Her eyes were fixed not on Celeste now, but the data on the crystal’s fractured readout. The reflection flickered—her own face juxtaposed with the smaller, furred silhouette on the other side of the glass.
“This is impossible,” she muttered.
Silent, still holding the shard to Celeste’s throat, lowered it with slow precision. His ears flicked, eyes narrowing. He didn’t question, but he observed. Obedient. Attentive.
Celeste’s breathing came ragged, chains clinking as she shifted in her seat.
“Unsanctioned mana use. Breaches of law. Disruption of Council order. All punishable by death or by flogging, if one is merciful.”
She let that linger like a poison.
“But this is not for me alone to decide. That is a Council debate.”
She leaned closer to the microphone, her voice now rich with judicial authority.
“I have what I need.”
Celeste's chest tightened like a vice.
“You and your little band will be taken before the Inner Ring tomorrow. You will be given a chance to explain yourselves. Should the Council see fit…”
Her words turned razor-sharp.
“…your fate will be decided.”
She raised a hand, gesturing toward Silent without even looking.
“Take her back to her cell. If she so much as breathes wrong, take off a finger.”
Silent moved. His clawed hand clamped around Celeste’s chains. She stumbled as she was yanked to her feet, her limbs stiff and her breath coming in shallow gasps.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
The door opened with a mechanical hiss.
As Celeste was dragged across the threshold, the speaker crackled to life one last time—Umbranox’s voice low and final:
“Remember… the infernal Eye of the Council is always watching.”
The words followed her down the dark corridor, echoing like a curse.
