Celeste shifted her weight, glancing toward the hallway. The sound outside was changing—no longer cheerful chatter but a rising clamor, uneven footsteps and sharp voices. Her ears twitched.

“Um—what’s going on out there?” she asked softly, mostly to herself. “Why is everyone so… worked up?”

Melody, still slouched pale against the beanbag, waved her paw lazily.

“It’s that thing—y’know, the bonbon crossover deal.” She managed a wobbly grin. “Posters everywhere. Country’s been eating it up.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow. “What—like a game?”

“Yeah. You scan the barcodes, get a shiny zombie or knight in your collection. There’s even a leaderboard.” Melody gave a weak laugh. “Nommie Zombies: Mythic Reckoning. Tacky as hell. Fun though.”

Arcade had torn open one of the wrappers, holding it up to the light with an intensity better suited to relics.

“There’s no ingredient list,” he murmured. “No allergy warnings. No manufacturing stamp. Just the Zygurr logo and a grinning skull telling you it’s ‘Nommie Approved.’ Thoroughly dystopian.”

Celeste’s stomach tightened, ears flattening. “That doesn’t… sound very safe at all.”

A crashing thud echoed from the hallway. A chorus of startled yelps.

Celeste shot to her feet. “Oh stars—I should, um—I should check that out.”

But before she could move, Melody leaned forward suddenly, clutching her middle. Her ears drooped and her paw trembled against her chest.

“Whoa—no, no no—Melody?” Celeste knelt beside her instantly.

“I think... I’m gonna hurl,” Melody mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her whole body was shaking now. Beads of sweat clung to her fur, and her eyes fluttered like she was fighting to stay present.

“That’s it,” Celeste said, voice soft but firm with an edge of desperation. “We need to get you some fresh air, love. Come on.”

She turned to the table, fumbling for steadiness. “Lumina—um—stay right here, Sweetheart. Play a little longer with Skye for me, alright? I’ll be back before you notice.”

Lumina gave a tiny hum, nodding, though her ears twitched nervously. “’Kay. Don’t be gone forever.”

Skye looked up, blinking. “She’s overheating. Skin temperature up. Breathing irregular. Not sugar. Not just sugar.” He frowned, then added quietly, “Hallway’s bad, too. Loud. Dangerous.”

Arcade flicked his paw in a dismissive wave, still smirking faintly. “Unsportsmanlike to abandon mid-race, you know. But by all means—be heroic. Just don’t faint dramatically in the doorway; it’s tacky.”

Celeste supported Melody under the arm, helping her up. She felt like she was holding onto a furnace wrapped in trembling fluff. Each step toward the balcony doors felt heavier than the last, like the air was thickening with invisible syrup.

As they pushed through to the outside, the con’s artificial lights gave way to the cold sting of natural wind—but it didn’t help.

Because they weren’t alone.

The balcony was dotted with others—maybe a dozen con-goers, slumped against the railing or sitting in silence. Some clutched candy bags, others just stared out blankly at the city skyline of Clawdiff.

Melody gave a shaky little laugh, though her voice trembled at the edges. “I feel… really off. Like—worse than ‘oops-too-much-sugar’ off. What if I go full zombie right here? That’d be so meta.”

Celeste forced a soft chuckle, trying to keep her hands steady as she braced Melody’s weight. “Please don’t, love. I haven’t the constitution to be a main character in a survival horror.”

“Pfft. Imagine it though…” Melody wheezed, grinning faintly. “Me, the undead queen of ClawdiffCon. I’d still make it look cute.”

Celeste smiled at her—

Until the wind changed.

No.
Not a wind.

It hit like a wall.

A pulse.

A screaming, vibrating pressure—like a whistle from the sky had pierced the clouds and was now inside her head.

The sound was more than sound—it was static and electricity and dread, all rolled together. It seared through her fur and bones and set every hybrid cell inside her sparking.

Then silence.

A sudden, dead, choking silence.

Celeste’s knees buckled. She hit the floor with a gasp, hands bracing herself against the concrete tiles. The sky above—once grey with summer haze—was turning. Hardening. The clouds melted into a strange pink sheen like crystallized glass. And from somewhere across the skyline, a roar echoed out—inhuman, unrelenting, like the entire sky was screaming.

Celeste clutched her chest. Her insides twisted. Her magic, long buried beneath the microchip’s suppression, flared against her will—like it wanted out.

“Melody?” she croaked, turning.

Melody wasn’t speaking.
She wasn’t blinking.

“Mel?” Celeste reached out, tapped her friend’s shoulder.

Melody turned.
Her mouth hung slightly open.
Drool—thick, glowing, and blue—dripped down from the corner.
Her eyes—pure white. Glassy. Like the soul behind them had packed up and left.

“...Mel?”

Celeste backed up a step.

All around them, the others on the balcony were shifting in place.
Mouths slack.
Eyes wide and glowing.
Like something inside them had been... rewritten.

The promotional bonbons sat at their feet. Half-eaten. Glinting faintly in the hardening light.

Celeste’s breathing caught.

She didn’t whisper it—but she thought it, screamed it inside her head:

What is happening?

“This isn’t funny, Mel—p-please, come on now,” she begged, voice trembling as she backed away.

But Melody didn’t move.

Her white eyes shimmered under the warped pink sky, and that eerie, sticky drool was still sliding down her chin. Celeste’s foot hit something—an abandoned lanyard, maybe—and she stumbled.

That’s when the dog turned.

He’d been standing hunched over near the balcony railing, twitching violently. His fur had begun to change color—his black and white spots were warping, darkening, melting into a glossy texture.

Celeste blinked—and realized his body was solidifying, like wax or... licorice?

His snout opened unnaturally wide.

And he lunged.

“NOPE!” Celeste squeaked, darting sideways as teeth snapped where her neck had been. She bolted for the doors, heart battering her ribs.

But before she could reach them, hands grabbed her wrists and slammed her against the wall.

“Mel—!” Celeste’s breath hitched.

Melody’s face was inches from hers, lips peeled back in a snarl. Her skin shimmered—crinkling, tearing—as if layers of gaudy wrapping paper were peeling across her arms.

“Snap out of it!” Celeste begged, struggling. “Please, Mel, fight it!”

For the briefest second, Melody’s jaw trembled. Her eyes flickered, the monster’s glaze breaking into something raw. Her voice cracked through the paper crinkle of her skin.

“H-help… me…”

A shadow loomed. Another zombie—its jaw dripping caramel strings—stumbled toward Celeste, maw opening.

“No!” Celeste twisted violently, shoving herself sideways, wriggling free of Melody’s grip just as teeth snapped shut where her shoulder had been.

She burst through the doors, nearly tripping as she slammed into the corridor beyond.

The hallway stretched ahead, dim and warped, lined with peeling candy-crusted wallpaper. She didn’t dare look back.

The corridor was worse.

Screams echoed. Figures staggered and twitched. Some were writhing on the floor, others slamming into walls. Their movements weren’t right—too stiff, too hungry. Like puppets being controlled by someone who had forgotten how to be alive.

Celeste shoved past them, clutching her chest. “Come on—come on—please, where’s the room?!”

The hallway opened onto the indoor balcony above the main hall. She stopped for half a second—just enough to take in the chaos below.

People screamed and scattered around the stage. The once-cheerful con space now looked like a battleground, candy wrappers and prop swords scattered in the stampede. The sky beyond the massive glass windows was still that unnatural, hard pink.

Celeste’s eyes locked on Mezzo.

The dalmatian security guard stood in the middle of the mess, arms out in front of him, trying to reason with a short figure in a mask. The figure growled low and made a sudden snapping motion with its head.

“Alright there, lil’ guy, that’s a fierce costume, aye? Jeez, you’ll win the contest, no doubt. But biting—hah—that’s takin’ immersion too bloody far!”

He reached forward and gently lifted the child’s mask.

What he saw made him reel back with a yelp—then fall flat on his tail.

“Holy sweet motherlight a’ divine, that’s not a costume!!”

Celeste bolted down the nearby stairs, grabbed his paw, and hauled him up.

“RUN! Stars above, I don’t know what this is, but it’s not cosplay!”

Mezzo stumbled after her, nearly tripping over his boots. “Ye think I hadn’t noticed?! Don’t be orderin’ me about, lass—I’m not even on shift!”

Celeste yanked him along, ears flat, tail lashing. “Then at least run in my direction!”

They turned and sprinted together, darting past candy-warped figures and fallen displays.

Celeste’s only thought: Find Lumina.
Find her now.

She burst into the gaming room with Mezzo close behind.

But the room was empty.

“Lumina?!” Her voice cracked. “Lumina, love, where are you?!”

Her wide eyes swept the room. “Arcade?! Skye?!”

Nothing.

Just a TV screen frozen on a paused game, and a few open card decks scattered across the floor.

Celeste’s voice cracked, small and breaking.
“No, no, no—where are they?!”

She turned—and nearly screamed.

A paw grabbed her wrist.

She spun—ready to punch—but stopped.

It was Pitch E. Blak.

The grey wolf survivalist from earlier. His trench coat was even more dramatic up close, now flaring as he barricaded the door with a toppled table.

“I told you,” he said, voice gravel-deep, eyes steady. “Always be prepared. The world won’t wait for your doubts.”

“Pitch?!” Celeste stammered, wide-eyed. “What are you—why are you here?!”

He planted a chair under the handle, hands moving like he’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times. “Been tracking this candy rollout for weeks. Too neat. Too viral. Too… engineered.” His lip curled. “Didn’t like the smell of it. Knew it would break bad.”

Celeste shook her head furiously. “We can’t stay here—if Lumina’s out there—!”

“I’m making a stand,” Pitch said flatly, tugging a tactical flashlight and an energy drink from his coat like holy relics. “Always start with light and fuel. Buy time.”

“Bad idea!” Mezzo yelped, jabbing a finger toward the curtain. “Check yer bloody corners, wolf, there’s more in here!”

Celeste turned—and sure enough, behind the display screen, two figures stumbled forward, slow and sweet-scented.

Their mouths hung open in that same slack-jawed hunger.

One had what used to be a Monster backpack.
The other still held a cosplay prop—a knight’s lance—but its plastic was melting in its hands.

Celeste froze.

Her brain screamed a dozen directions at once.

Fight? Run? Scream?

Her body locked—
But her magic did not.

For a split second, something inside her chest flared—hot and bright and ancient. The microchip suppression strained, and she felt something sharp, like static, surge through her fingertips.

Celeste didn’t answer.

She didn’t know how.

Because her mind wasn’t on magic.

It was on Lumina.

And she was missing.