As they ventured deeper into Beauty Park, Celeste couldn’t help but marvel at the surreal beauty of it all.

The once-familiar green lawns were now shades of sherbet orange and lime green, and the trees had been overtaken by twisting candy canes and rainbow-colored vines. In the air, glittering butterflies with crystal wings flitted between flower petals that shimmered like gumdrops. Strange jelly frogs, translucent and wobbly, bounced between oversized peppermint lilies, croaking softly in musical tones.

Bonbon and Lumina ran ahead, giggling as they chased after the glowing creatures. Their laughter echoed through the sweet-twisted forest, the sound like sunlight piercing through the strange world around them.

Then they saw it.

In the center of the park, nestled in a glade of caramel grass and licorice ferns, stood a giant candy egg—easily the size of a four-story house. It shimmered in pastel hues, wrapped tightly in the winding limbs of a licorice tree, its bark ruby red and studded with glistening sugar-glass blossoms, each one reflecting the sky like a mirror. Its cotton-candy leaves rustled gently, sending threads of sweetness floating on the wind.

Biscuit steps, soft but sturdy, led up to a crack in the sugar-shell egg—just wide enough to slip through.

Celeste gasped, her eyes shimmering, a smile tugging nervously at her lips.
“Ohh… it’s… it’s really lovely, isn’t it? Like—like something out of a storybook, only you can actually touch it.”

Mezzo bounded up beside her, tail swishing like mad, his grin contagious.
“Feckin’ hell, this is brilliant! Like a secret base. Y’know, the kind you swore you’d build in the back garden when you were ten, with, like, biscuit walls and no parents allowed.”

Celeste giggled, covering her mouth with one paw. “Yes! Exactly that! Oh, it’s—oh dear, I want to see inside right now.” She bounced on her heels, then darted up the cookie steps, brushing her hand over the sugar-glazed railing like it might vanish if she didn’t.

Mezzo raced after her, boots clacking, practically vibrating with excitement. They stopped at the entrance together, breathless, wide-eyed.

“Ready to explore?” Celeste asked shyly, voice small but bright.

Mezzo smirked, tail flicking. “Always. If we die in here, at least it’ll be tasty.”

As the group prepared to step inside, the sugary wind rustled through the candy trees behind them—as if the park itself was watching.

Arcade, last up the steps, adjusted his glasses with a sniff.
“Well. If this isn’t a death pit, it’s statistically the most structurally sound refuge we’ve seen all day. I might even call it… dare I say… promising.”

Something about this place felt safe, at least for now.

The group stepped inside the giant egg, and immediately a wave of sweet warmth and subtle vanilla hit them—not overwhelming, but oddly comforting. The walls were a pastel chocolate, soft in hue but oddly firm and warm to the touch, with the grain and polish of wood, defying all known material logic.

“This… shouldn’t be possible,” Arcade murmured, running his fingers across the surface. “Candy with structural integrity and wood-like properties? This breaks every law I know.”

The interior was vast, far more expansive than the egg’s exterior could account for. Multiple floors spiraled upward, suspended on spiraling licorice supports and candy-cane railings. It was like stepping into a dreamworld treehouse fused with a surreal palace—equal parts playful and impossible.

At the heart of the first floor stood a massive, hardened rainbow lollipop, flat on top like a wide table. The colors swirled hypnotically beneath a glassy sheen.

Lumina pressed her little paws against it and gasped, giggling.
“It feels like stone, but it’s sweet! Like… like a castle you can lick!”

Bonbon tapped it with her wand, then scrambled up with all the determination of a cub half her size. Her pacifier bobbed as she squeaked around it:
“Cadair! Cadair!” (Chair! Chair!)

Celeste hurried over and gently lifted her onto the gleaming surface. She smiled shyly, smoothing her skirt.

The walls were lined with hexagonal chambers, reminiscent of a beehive, each glowing faintly from within. Inside some, there were shimmering glass columns, each a different hue—blue, pink, violet, lemon-yellow. The light they emitted pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat.

“Ohhh… it’s like… like a library, only sweeter. Or—or maybe an archive, keeping secrets safe.” Her voice caught in wonder, quiet but warm.

In one of the central chambers, suspended midair, was a single item: an encyclopedia with a velvet red cover and golden trim. Arcade’s ears perked as he reached for the book. He flipped it open—blank pages staring back. His tone sharpened, curiosity flashing in his eyes.
“Not blank. Waiting. It’s designed to record. If I’m right, this isn’t a book—it’s a living interface, tied to us.”

Mezzo had already bounded halfway up a licorice spiral staircase. He leaned over the railing, tail wagging like mad.
“Dibs! This is the base, lads and lasses! We’ve got levels, sweets, architecture—and me, of course. Ten outta ten secret lair.”

Arcade shot him a flat look. “One day your sugar high is going to get us killed.”

As Arcade’s fingers grazed the blank encyclopedia, the golden trim lit up in a pulse of warm light. The book shuddered in his hands, and then—without warning—ink bled onto the pages in swift, elegant script. One by one, illustrations of the monsters they had encountered began to appear: the zombie cat made of wrappers, the marshmallow bunny, the sugar-cube mice.

Alongside the drawings were notes, sketches, even glowing glyphs. Each entry came with descriptions, attack styles, behavioral traits, and—most importantly—weaknesses. The zombie cat’s fear of reflective surfaces. The marshmallow bunny’s vulnerability to heat.

Some entries, though, were only partial. Blurred outlines, scribbled lines of unknown script. Blank spaces remained, as if the book was still waiting to observe or learn more.

Arcade’s eyes widened behind his glasses.
“It’s... it’s a bestiary,” he whispered in awe. “A living one. It’s recording everything we face.”

He flipped faster through the pages, skimming rapidly.
“Real-time updates. Auto-filling knowledge. Some kind of collective magical database tied to our actions.”

He looked up at the others.
“This could help us survive.”

Celeste’s hands trembled as she peered at the entries, her lips parting in awe. “Oh stars… it’s helping us.”

Skye lingered near the door, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the walls. His ears twitched once.
“…Doesn’t feel right,” he muttered. “It’s too clean. Too… staged. Like a dream pretending.”

Lumina padded to him, tugging his sleeve softly. “It is scary… but we’re together. That makes it less scary.”

Skye’s gaze softened, if only slightly. “Maybe. But I’m still watching.”

Bonbon plopped down on her “throne,” tail curling around her legs as she sucked her pacifier and mumbled sleepily in Welsh,
“Cartref bach…” (Little home…)

The others glanced at her, their smiles faint but real.

Arcade, meanwhile, was already marking new entries with tabs.
“This is going to be our most valuable asset. If the book is linked to the magic of this world, then we might be able to document every general. Every weakness.”

And somewhere, deep within the candy-coated walls of their impossible new sanctuary, the book quietly pulsed again, as if listening.

While the others clustered around the glowing bestiary, Celeste drifted away quietly, her steps light against the pastel tiles. She told herself she was just… exploring. Just curious. But really, she needed a breath. A moment.

Her paw brushed along the licorice railing as she followed a side corridor that wound gently upward. At the end was a small, rounded doorway—hardly more than a crack in the candy wall.

Celeste tilted her head. “Oh—hello there,” she whispered softly to no one in particular. She pushed it open.

The space beyond was tiny at first—barely more than a broom cupboard. But the instant she stepped across the threshold, the air rippled.

The walls groaned. The sugar shifted.

And in a blink, the room bloomed into a vast chamber.

Towering sugar-glass pillars stretched up into a high arched ceiling, refracting soft pastel light like cathedral windows. A huge pane of shimmering glass formed at the far end, tinted with pale pinks and blues. Through it she could see a balcony, where candyfloss blossoms drifted in a slow, impossible breeze.

Celeste pressed a paw to her mouth. “Ohh… oh stars. It’s… beautiful.” Her voice shook like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak.

The floor beneath her rippled as though freshly poured—tiles sliding and clicking into pastel patterns. She froze when she realised the design wasn’t random. From above, it would look like her own silhouette—ears, tail, even the fall of her hair.

Her cheeks heated. “This… this is—oh, this is far too much,” she whispered, half-flustered, half in awe.

Behind her, with another soft shimmer, a marshmallow bed unfolded against one wall, dusted with sugar-powder and wrapped in quilted blankets patterned like stars. Bonbon candies dotted the headboard like buttons. Beside it, impossibly, a door opened onto a full bathroom—candy-cane pipes glinting with running water that gurgled cheerfully, defying every known law of physics.

Celeste backed up a step, her hands clutching her chest. She could feel the hum of magic—warm, steady, but heavy. Watching her.

“It’s like… it was made for me,” she murmured, voice small.

She touched one of the sugar-glass pillars and felt it pulse faintly beneath her fingers.

For the first time since the nightmare began, she felt… safe.

And yet the safety carried its own weight.

As if someone, somewhere, already knew who she was meant to be.