The group stood in stunned silence.

Arcade’s fingers flew across his omni-tool, scanning furiously. His tone was sharp, dismissive, half mutter and half lecture.
“This shouldn’t be real. Physics doesn’t bend like this. None of this computes. Unless, of course, the laws of reality decided to take a holiday and forgot to tell me.”

Mezzo collapsed to the ground with a thump, clutching his head.
“Monsters made of feckin’ candy! A dragon the size of a cathedral! And don’t get me started on that centipede—thing tried to turn me into a jam tart!” He gestured wildly at the others. “And ye are all just standin’ there like this is Tuesday! Am I the only one losin’ me mind?!”

Pitch’s gaze never left the skyline. He held his shotgun steady, calm as a rock.
“Panicking won’t stop it biting your head off, kid. Keep your eyes open, and your mouth shut.”

Celeste bent down and pulled Lumina close, voice quiet, uncertain but kind.
“W-we’re together, at least… that has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Lumina clung tighter to her middle, her voice tiny but cutting.
“Maybe… we should call Dad.”

Celeste froze. The word hit like an old wound torn open. Father. The arguments. The walls she’d run from. He wouldn’t understand. He never had.

Still, she fumbled her phone out of her coat. The screen lit up—no signal. She forced a smile, showing Lumina.
“See? It’s… it’s nothing. No bars.”

But Lumina’s brow furrowed. She snatched the phone, hugging it tight, her voice trembling but direct.
“You’re lying. I know. You just don’t want him to come. Why won’t you let him help us?”

Celeste’s throat closed. She couldn’t answer. Not truthfully.

Behind them, Arcade paced in a tight circle, muttering to himself like a furious lecturer, tail snapping.
“Fantastic. Trapped under a dome, giant candy kaiju on the loose, and we’re standing in the open with zero cover. An entire district gone—like it’s been scrubbed clean. Deleted. Poof. Honestly? I’d be impressed if I wasn’t actively terrified.”

Celeste turned slowly, eyes sweeping the deserted candy-stained street. The scent of sugar hung thick in the air, too sweet, too wrong. Smeared lollipop splinters glinted on the pavement. Gummy footprints led to nowhere. The city was dead silent.

The generals were gone. But so was everyone else.

And then the group looked out across the city, now split into seven territories—each ruled by a nightmare wrapped in sweetness.

Above them, the sky shimmered.

The white dragon from earlier—sleek, serpentine, and dazzling—cut through the air with grace, its iridescent scales glinting in the filtered sunlight. It didn’t attack or speak, only circled low, casting a shadow over the team. Its long whiskers danced in the breeze, its golden eyes locking briefly with Celeste’s before it veered upward with a roar that rattled the sugar-glazed buildings.

As it ascended, several scales detached, glimmering like falling stars. The group instinctively raised their arms, shielding themselves as the warm, metallic scales drifted down around them, settling softly like snow.

They exchanged puzzled looks.

“What... does this mean?” Skye asked softly, cradling a scale that thrummed faintly in his hand.

“I-I don’t know,” Celeste murmured, turning one over gently, “but maybe... maybe we’ll need them? They feel... important.”

Before anyone could dwell on it, movement.

Ray suddenly turned down a side street choked with cotton candy vines. Pitch veered the opposite way, jaw tight, shoulders squared.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Celeste called, her voice wobbling as she stepped forward. “We—we should stay together, shouldn’t we? Y-you saw what we’re up against!”

Ray didn’t stop walking.
“This is stupid,” she snapped, not even looking back. “I’m not playing dress-up in a sugar zombie war. There’s gotta be a way out of this dome, and I’m gonna find it.”

“Ray, please—” Celeste started, but Pitch cut in.

“I can’t stay either.” His voice was low, steady. He glanced back, eyes dark. “My brother’s in hospital—if he’s even still alive. I’ve gotta find him. I have to.”

Mezzo’s voice cracked high as he flung his paws up.
“Tay! Ray! Whatever the feck yer name is—we need your bloody hammer! We’re candy food without it! D’you not get that?! There’s gummy ogres! Licorice skeletons! I don’t wanna be feckin’ nougat!” His accent was thick with panic, almost lyrical.

Arcade looked like he’d just seen a math equation eat itself. His omni-tool flickered in his claws.
“This is chaos. Actual chaos. No equations, no stable constants. It’s like someone dumped probability in a blender and pressed ‘purée’. There’s no strategy for that.”

Celeste began pacing too, her pigtails swinging, voice small but urgent.
“W-we can’t—we can’t lose anyone else. Please. We need a plan, we really do, or—”

Ray spun around, red eyes flashing.
“I said no. You wanna die playing hero? Fine. But I don’t owe you anything.”

Mezzo’s tone cracked, more desperate now.
“Ray, c’mon—please. You saw what happened. If we don’t stick together, we’re sugar dust. Just stay, just for tonight. Just for one fight.”

Her laugh was short, bitter.
“You’re not my friends. You’re just the last unlucky sods I got stuck with before the world fell apart. I’m not dying for you.”

And with that, she vanished into the cotton candy fog.

Mezzo stood trembling, fists tight at his sides. His voice broke low.
“She’s gonna get herself killed.”

Silence. A broken neon sign buzzed overhead.

Arcade finally exhaled, sarcasm laced with resignation.
“Brilliant. Two fewer allies. Twice the odds of us being eaten alive. Perfect strategy.”

Neither Ray nor Pitch answered. Within moments, both were gone—swallowed by the warped city.

Silence again.

Mezzo kicked the ground, muttering bitterly.
“Well, that went feckin’ brilliant.”

Arcade’s voice was flat, too tired to mask the worry under the scorn.
“We can’t stop them. All we can do is… watch the candy eat them.”

She glanced toward the road leading into Beauty Park—once a lush green, laughter-filled space. Now it was a nightmare garden: vines glowing faintly, candy-choked trees drooping under their own syrup weight, colors shifting like a fever dream.

Celeste wrung her hands, ears low. Her voice came out small.
“Um… I was thinking… m-maybe we should go to the park? It’s—oh, well, not safe, really, but maybe safer than, um, buildings collapsing on us. Or, y’know, standing out here like biscuits on a tray.” She looked around the group, her eyes pleading. “I-if that’s alright with everyone…”

Arcade arched a brow and glanced at Skye, his voice dry.
“Local park full of glowing murder-plants. Sounds like a brilliant tactical choice. Skye?”

Skye fiddled with the strap of his duel device, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “Okay. Yeah. Park’s better than here. Buildings… echo wrong.”

“Feck it,” Mezzo huffed, folding his arms. “If it’s between a sugar centipede and a park bench, I’ll take me chances with the bug pigeons. Count me in.”

Bonbon didn’t speak. She just stood staring blankly at the street, thumb in her mouth, her fur still smudged with marshmallow dust. Celeste’s heart squeezed—she bent down, scooped her up, and held her close. Bonbon leaned into her shoulder instantly, quiet but clinging.

Lumina hadn’t moved. Her little lip trembled, tail coiled tight around her leg. She whispered, almost too quiet to hear:
“…What if nobody helps us?”

Celeste bent down, her smile trembling but warm. “I—I don’t know, sweetheart. But we’ll try. Maybe there’ll be police, or soldiers, or… anyone. And until then—” She squeezed Lumina’s paw. “I’ll keep us safe. I promise.”

Lumina’s eyes stayed huge and wet, but after a pause, she slipped her hand into Celeste’s. “…Okay. But if you die, I’m telling Dad.”

Celeste let out a shaky laugh, brushing her sister’s bangs back. “Fair. But I’ll do my best not to, alright?”

With heavy hearts and uneasy steps, the little group turned toward the twisted park, their newly-gifted scales hidden away, uncertainty pressing in with every footfall.

Arcade tapped something on his wrist-mounted tool and muttered, voice low and sardonic as if dictating a log.
“Field notes: Day one in the Candy Apocalypse. Survivors have unanimously voted to seek refuge in a corrupted playground. Pros: open sightlines. Cons: literal everything else. Conclusion? We’re all mad. But at least it’ll be interesting data before we die.”

Mezzo shot him a look. “Y’know, you could just say nothing instead of makin’ me more nervous, egghead.”

Arcade smirked faintly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Skye piped up softly, almost to himself:
“Swings creak like ghosts at night. Maybe that’s good camouflage.”

The others turned to stare at him.

Skye blinked, adjusting his duel device. “…What? It makes sense.”

Celeste managed the tiniest smile. “Well… I suppose it sort of does.”