Pitch’s ears flicked, eyes darting across the chaos. His flashlight beam jittered over broken screens, overturned cabinets, smoke and teeth. Nowhere. No way out.

His breath caught—then he saw it.

“Emergency exit!” Pitch barked, pointing to a red-lit door behind an arcade cabinet. “Move!”

They bolted.

Mezzo flung himself toward the exit, grabbing armfuls of random game controllers and flinging them backward like grenades.

“Ye shall not pass, Super Cat Kart style!” he cried, lobbing a steering wheel at a very confused zombie dressed as a space ranger. It bounced harmlessly off its head.

Celeste couldn't help it—she laughed. Just a short, breathless bark of disbelief.

She grabbed a foam sword from the floor and whipped it like a baton. “Take this, you sugary creeps!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Pitch muttered, reaching the exit.

He yanked the handle—
And smacked straight into Ray.

The emo fox nearly bowled them over, eyes bloodshot but eyeliner flawless. She hissed, “What the hell—move! I’m not dying in a convention center!”

She stopped when she saw the horde behind him.

“Oh stars, it’s both sides now—” she whispered.

Behind her, more candy-twisted people poured in through the smoke—grinning, groaning, twitching. Their limbs stuck and popped like toffee being pulled. Some had lollipop shards embedded in their skin. One was dribbling what looked like strawberry syrup from their eyes.

Ray stumbled back into Pitch, eyes darting. “There’s no—there’s nowhere to go!”

Pitch swore, whipping out his flashlight like a holy relic. “Stand back. Gonna blind the beasts.”

He clicked it on—
It flickered once—
Then lodged itself in the slavering jaws of a gum-soaked hippo zombie that had lumbered out of the fray.

Crunch.

Sparks fizzled.

The beast sneezed a bubble the size of a pumpkin from its nostrils and grinned.

Pitch stared, utterly deadpan. “…I hate everything about today.”

Celeste was paralyzed.

She could feel it again.

That heat.
That strange static fire under her skin—rising—pulsing.

Her Mana Suppression Rune flared. She cried out, clutching her arm as the pain shot up into her skull.

It was happening again.
The suppression unit was struggling to hold something back.

“Lass—!” Mezzo called, trying to grab her paw.

But something else grabbed everyone’s attention first.

The wall exploded.

A brilliant blaze of cinnamon-red light tore through the far side of the building as a massive white candy dragon burst into the con.

Its body was woven like origami—paper scales folded over translucent sugar bones. Glowing veins pulsed beneath its surface, and it let out a roar that cracked glass.

With a great sweeping breath, it unleashed a jet of flame—bright, hot, and smelling vaguely of caramelized sugar.

The zombies lit up like matchsticks.

Then the dragon looked at her.

Right at Celeste.

Its yellow almond-shaped eyes didn’t just see her.
They recognized her.

Celeste’s legs buckled slightly.

Why did it feel like she knew this thing?

But before she could even step forward—
Another roar echoed.
Deeper.
Thunderous.
Wrong.

Something even bigger, still unseen, shrieked from beyond the horizon.

The dragon’s gaze hardened.

It took one last look at Celeste—
Then spread its paper wings and soared, tearing through the ceiling and into the strange pink sky.

And then the floor gave way.

“WATCH IT!” Pitch shouted.

The weakened boards crumbled beneath them.

Celeste, Pitch, and Ray fell into the dark below—
Game screens and props followed like confetti in a collapsing carnival.

Celeste hit something soft.
Then something hard.

Everything spun.

Dust.

Light.
Candy wrappers.
And the smell of smoke.

They’d landed somewhere below.

Celeste rolled onto her side, the breath wheezing from her lungs. Her coat was snagged, her tights torn, but she was alive.

She rolled onto her side, paw to her head, wheezing. “Is everyone—?”

“Alive?” Pitch answered, brushing sugar dust from his coat. His tone was as flat as the debris around them. “Barely.”

Ray pushed herself upright, fur bristling, eyeliner still a perfect slash across her glare. “We need light. Now. Before something else—”

A faint trail of glow shimmered along the floor like breadcrumbs—scattered bonbons, faintly pulsing.

Ray followed it, squinting, muttering under her breath. “Oh, of course. Horror-movie candy trail. This is fine. Totally fine.”

“Wait—don’t—” Celeste whispered, voice too soft, too late.

Too late.

The end of the trail moved.

The creature turned toward them—its veins glowing like neon tubes under skin, its slack jaw dripping syrupy drool.

Ray’s sarcasm cracked into raw panic. “Stars above—!”

She stumbled back, colliding with Celeste.

Celeste shoved forward on instinct, planting herself between Ray and the creature. Her voice trembled, but she forced it out anyway: “P-Pitch—the door!”

Pitch didn’t waste a heartbeat. His eyes flicked to the glow, using the zombie’s sickly shine as a lantern. “There!”

Using the zombie’s glow as a twisted lantern, he spotted a heavy metal door. They ran, the creature snarling behind them, footsteps sticky on the floor.

The door slammed shut—just as the zombie lunged.

Bang.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Okay,” Ray gasped, paws on her knees. “I officially hate this convention.”

Pitch scanned the shadows, his voice low. “Don’t relax yet.”

They barely had a second to recover before Celeste’s heart sank again.

In the dim lighting of the next room—
Hundreds of glowing shapes turned to face them.

“…Candy zombies,” Pitch muttered, voice dry as bone.

Ray bared her teeth. “We're screwed.”

But then—a sound.

A roar.

Loud. Deep. Distant. Inhuman.

The candy-infested husks all turned in unison, like puppets on a string.

They began shuffling away from Celeste and the others—drawn to something else.

Something louder.

Pitch didn’t wait. “Move. While they’re distracted.”

They crept between the hunched figures—tension so thick it crackled in the air.

Suddenly:

Ding.

The elevator pinged open.

Everyone froze.

A group of uninfected civilians exploded out of the lift, shrieking, running.
Some zombies turned and gave chase, drawn by the noise.

But in the back of the lift, just as the doors began to close—
Celeste’s heart caught in her throat.

“Lumina?!”

The little ragdoll cat blinked up, pressed tight between Skye and Arcade. “C-Celeste?!”

Celeste’s whole body surged forward. She scooped Lumina into her arms, hugging her like she could fold her inside her chest and keep her safe forever. “Oh, stars above, Lumi—you’re okay, thank goodness—you’re okay.”

Lumina stiffened. “I… please don’t do that.”

Celeste froze.

She pulled back, gently.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t mean—I just—” She swallowed hard, ears low. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Arcade stepped forward, tone clipped, as though cutting the moment apart. “We don’t have time for a family drama episode. Those things will circle back once the roar dies.”

Skye, meanwhile, peered past them, muttering under his breath. “Elevators aren’t safe. Up and down, up and down, like lungs. Can’t breathe in a coffin with lungs.”

Ray squinted at him. “…What?”

Celeste brushed at her eyes quickly, setting Lumina down but keeping a paw on her shoulder. Her voice was soft, trembling, but firm: “He’s right. We—we can’t stay here.”

The elevator doors began to shut—

But a few zombies turned to face them. Not all had left.

“Hit the button!” Ray barked.

They all piled in.

The doors slammed just as claws slapped the outer panel.

A banging started—echoing in the small lift.

Everyone was panting.

The ascent was too slow.

Ray crossed her arms, back to the wall, tail twitching. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Pitch’s ears twitched, body poised like a coiled spring. When the doors hissed open, he raised his flashlight like a blade.

“Clear—for now.”

They spilled into a hallway.

Dim. Flickering lights.
Tables overturned, candy scattered like breadcrumbs through ruin.

Pitch moved first. Ray guarded behind.
Lumina clutched Skye’s paw like it was the last solid thing left in the world. He muttered rules under his breath, tapping at his card device like a broken prayer.

Arcade scribbled furiously in his notebook as they moved. “You know,” he said, voice a little too high, “this would be fascinating if it wasn’t absolutely horrifying.”

Then his phone rang.

A loud, obnoxious jingle.

Every zombie within hearing range turned instantly.

“MOVE!” Pitch snapped.

They sprinted. Arcade shoved the phone back into his pocket, fumbling to silence it.

Ahead—a door marked with the wheelchair symbol.

No time to think.

Ray didn’t hesitate. She kicked it open. “IN!”

They slammed it shut just as a candy-coated paw clawed at the jamb.

Inside, they tumbled into darkness and—

“Do you mind?” a voice barked.

Mezzo.

Sitting on the toilet, pants halfway down, magazine in hand.

There was a long pause.

“…No,” Ray muttered after a beat. “We really don’t.”

Pitch threw the lock. Outside, the growls pressed close, then drifted away.

Celeste slid down against the wall, drawing Lumina tight against her chest. Her voice shook even though she tried to sound strong: “I promise… we’re getting out of this. I swear it.”

Lumina said nothing.

But she didn’t pull away.

Arcade fumbled with his phone again.
“Okay, okay… let’s see what the world thinks of this nightmare—”

He opened a news app.

Videos. Dozens.

Then…

One by one—they vanished.

Deleted.

Refreshed.

Nothing.

A white screen.

A 404 error.

Then:

No Signal.

“What the… they’re wiping it,” Arcade muttered. “They’re erasing this.”

Silence.

Total, terrifying silence.

The flickering light above them snapped out.

And the world outside the bathroom…

Went still.