Celeste lingered a little longer in the chamber, her paw brushing the sugar-glass pillar one last time. The glow beneath her touch pulsed gently, as though it was reluctant to let her go. She pressed her lips together in a shy smile, then drew in a steadying breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly to the room, as if it were alive.
With a final glance at the marshmallow bed and drifting blossoms, she stepped back through the doorway. The air rippled again, folding the vast chamber away until it was only a narrow passage once more. She padded down the licorice-railed corridor, her heart still beating quickly with wonder, before rejoining the others.
They hadn’t noticed her slip away, too entranced by the encyclopedia’s glowing pages. But Celeste’s eyes were suddenly drawn elsewhere—toward a soft, rhythmic glow pulsing from across the chamber.
Nestled in a cradle of pastel candy bark and sugar glass, a radiant orb hovered—smaller than the one they’d seen suspended over the town center, but unmistakably similar. It hummed gently, resonating like a heartbeat made of light.
As Celeste stepped closer, a shimmer burst from her chest. A blue light embedded in her core began to glow with a gentle brilliance. It pulsed in sync with the orb—as if calling to it, or responding.
Celeste stared into the glowing orb, transfixed by the way it pulsed—alive, aware, and resonating with something deep inside her.
Then it happened.
Her chest shimmered with a gentle blue glow, the light blooming outward from her core. The others gasped as they too lit up, each with a different hue, each pulsing in sync with the orb. As if it was reading them—calling them by their true names.
Mezzo’s chest burst with bold red, flickering like a rapid heartbeat, hot and fast.
Arcade’s glowed with sharp green light, buzzing with a low hum like static.
Lumina’s shimmered pink, gentle and warm, healing just to witness.
Bonbon’s magenta light pulsed like a tune—melodic and unpredictable.
Skye’s core turned yellow, shifting like a breeze through still water.
As the orb stabilized, the encyclopedia glowed once more. Its pages turned of their own accord until it displayed a new section—runes and shifting candy-like script forming into readable text.
Each page showed an entry for one of them:
NAME: Celeste
RANK: Knight
CLASS: Spellsword
TYPE: Hybrid – Unknown / Unknown / Ragdoll
PRIMARY ABILITY: Mirror & Dual Ribbon Star swords
WEAKNESSES: Unknown
NAME: Mezzo
RANK: Knight
CLASS: Bard
TYPE: Hybrid – Dog / Griffon
PRIMARY ABILITY: Unknown – Weaponized Guitar
WEAKNESSES: Unknown
NAME: Arcade
RANK: Knight
CLASS: Machinist
TYPE: Hybrid – Chupacabra / Hedgehog
PRIMARY ABILITY: Unknown – Magnetic Constructs & Tech
WEAKNESSES: Unknown
NAME: Lumina
RANK: Knight
CLASS: Paladin
TYPE: Hybrid – Unknown / Unknown / Ragdoll
PRIMARY ABILITY: Unknown – Sword & Shield
WEAKNESSES: Unknown
NAME: Bonbon
RANK: Knight
CLASS: Magician
TYPE: Hybrid – Unknown / Panda
PRIMARY ABILITY: Unknown/ Wand
WEAKNESSES: Unknown
NAME: Skye
RANK: Knight
CLASS: Summoner
TYPE: Hybrid – Carbuncle / Fennec Fox
PRIMARY ABILITY: ??? – Duel card launcher
WEAKNESSES: Unknown
One by one, their glowing cores dimmed. The light that had pulsed in their chests winked out, leaving only the faint ache of what had been.
Celeste clutched at her ribs, worried. “It’s… gone? Did we—did we do something wrong?”
Lumina held her shield up nervously, tapping it with a paw. “Mine went poof,” she whispered, wide-eyed.
Bonbon poked her tummy, then Celeste’s, then giggled. “No glow,” she announced proudly, as if she’d discovered something new.
Arcade was already pacing in a tight circle, omni-tool flickering, his muttering sharp and fast.
“Not possible. Hybrids don’t have cores. That’s what the suppressors regulate—static channels, no stable reservoir. And yet—” He jabbed a finger at the encyclopedia in Celeste’s arms. “—those were mana cores. Which means either the laws of biology are broken… or we’re not what we thought we were.”
Mezzo raised both paws like he was announcing a punchline.
“Oh, brilliant! First we nearly get eaten by licorice rats, now science itself doesn’t work. Someone explain it to me like I’m five, please.”
“Explaining it to you at all feels like wasted breath,” Arcade shot back, his voice dry but rattled.
Skye, quieter, stared down at his hands, flexing them slowly. “Feels… weird. Like it’s still there. Just hiding.”
Celeste bit her lip, hugging the book to her chest. “So… what does that mean? For us?”
They all turned to the open page. Each entry shimmered, but every one carried gaps—blank spaces where traits, skills, and identities should have been written. Especially Bonbon, Lumina, and Celeste.
But above all the emptiness, in ornate golden script, glowed the same title:
Knights of Clawdiff.
Arcade adjusted his glasses again, voice clipped, precise, but shaking with disbelief.
“Alright. Conclusion—none of us are… normal. Not hybrids in the usual sense, anyway.”
He shot Mezzo a sideways look.
“Dog and griffon? Explains the barking. And the posturing.”
Mezzo puffed out his chest and struck a pose like he was flexing for a magazine cover.
“Oi! Griffon’s feckin’ majestic, mate. I’ll take it. Way cooler than whatever you are—Goat-vampire? What is that, some posh horror brand?”
Bonbon twirled with delight, clapping her little paws. “Llyfr! Llyfr!” she squeaked, eyes sparkling at the glowing book.
Skye stayed crouched, hands glowing faintly. His voice was quiet, careful.
“It feels right,” he said simply. Then, after a pause: “…But weird. Like… toothpaste on chips.”
Celeste hugged the encyclopedia closer, her voice small, threaded with nerves.
“Mirror…?” she whispered, staring at the strange word etched above her name. “Why don’t I—I don’t even know what that means. Why don’t I know what I am?”
Arcade hesitated, then gave a small shrug, his voice softer but still dry.
“Not just you. Lumina and Bonbon’s entries are blank too. If we had access to archives—birth registries, family records—maybe we’d find answers. But…”
Celeste’s ears perked anxiously. “But…?”
He sighed, rubbing his temple.
“But right now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is figuring out whether we’re trapped in this candied nightmare, or if there’s even a way out of Clawdiff at all.”
Celeste nodded slowly, wringing her hands.
“I never wanted to fight. I just want Lumina safe. Home. That’s all.”
For once, Arcade’s voice softened without sarcasm.
“Yeah. I get it. But this—” he gestured at the weapons, the glowing book, the orb “—this feels too neat. Too… designed. Like someone’s watching us play out their twisted little game.”
The orb pulsed faintly in reply, as though mocking them.
Mezzo, who had clearly stopped paying attention halfway through, suddenly clutched his stomach.
“Grand speeches aside, lads, I’m starvin’.”
Before anyone could intervene, he snatched up one of the fallen dreamscales and crunched into it like a biscuit.
“MEZZO, NO!” Celeste yelped, voice cracking, while Arcade actually shouted, “You absolute idiot!”
Mezzo gagged, spitting it back out.
“Blegh! That tasted like burnt candyfloss dipped in me ma’s regrets.”
But then—his hands flared red. The scale burst, reshaping in midair—until, with a flash, it solidified into… a full-sized fridge.
The group went silent.
Skye blinked at it, deadpan. “…That’s a fridge.”
Mezzo’s jaw dropped, then his face lit up with awe.
“…That’s my fridge.” He ran his paw reverently along the chrome, whispering, “A sacred artefact, born of hunger.”
Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose but was already scribbling furiously.
“Dreamscales respond to subconscious intent. Not just needs—desires. He thought about food, it gave him storage. Honestly? Almost impressive. If it wasn’t him.”
Mezzo flung open the door—only to find it empty.
“Well that’s tragic. Still magic though. Doesn’t even need power.”
Lumina padded up, solemn as only a seven-year-old could be. She opened her pouch and tucked a handful of strawberry bonbons inside.
“For later,” she said simply.
Mezzo closed the door with a flourish, smirking.
“Keeping sweets cold in a sugar apocalypse. Now that’s irony.”
Lumina giggled and popped the fridge open again just to check. Inside, her bonbons were now nestled among fresh strawberries—real ones. Bright, ripe, and cold.
The group froze.
Celeste’s ears twitched, her voice hushed with awe.
“Oh… stars above. That’s not just magic, is it? That’s—something else entirely.”
Arcade’s eyes narrowed, omni-tool already recording.
“The fridge adapted. It didn’t just follow her intent—it improved it. That’s not conjuration, that’s… refinement. Like the scale read her subconscious.”
Everyone’s gaze drifted to the handful of dreamscales they still carried, suddenly aware of just how dangerous—and valuable—they might be.
Celeste hugged her arms close, voice trembling but steady.
“We’ll have to be careful. They only give us what we truly… truly need.”
Mezzo waved a paw dramatically, already clutching another scale.
“Then clearly the universe knows I need a pizza oven. Don’t judge me, lads, survival requires carbs.”
Arcade sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, by all means, let’s squander reality-bending artefacts on snacks. Maybe next you can manifest a five-star hotel so we can all die in comfort.”
Celeste sank onto the cracked curb just outside the candy-slicked safehouse, staring at the warped skyline of Clawdiff. The air reeked of sugar and burnt plastic, her breath catching as she spoke softly:
“We… can’t stay here. We’ll need supplies. Food, water, bandages—anything that’ll help us keep going.”
Arcade adjusted the glowing strap of his omni-tool, tone brisk.
“And information. If we can’t map this city, we’re blind. If we can’t decode these abilities, we’re liabilities. Data is survival.”
Mezzo leaned back, yawning loud enough to echo.
“And practical clothes, maybe? Because my uniform smells like wet jellybeans and bad decisions.”
Celeste gave him a helpless little look, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile—but Lumina’s small, wavering voice broke the moment.
“Maybe… maybe there’s a phone. A real one. We could call home.”
Celeste froze, her chest aching. She pulled her own phone out, screen glowing weakly: No Signal. She showed it, voice soft as a crack.
“There isn’t, sweetheart. Nothing’s reaching outside the dome.”
Lumina’s eyes filled with tears. Her small fists balled up. “I want to go home!” she cried, voice cracking.
Celeste knelt down quickly. “I know. I want that too. But if we stick together, we’ll be safer. I promise I’ll try my best, okay?”
Lumina sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
Skye shuffled closer, ears twitching. Without a word, he pulled a lollipop from his pocket and held it out.
“…It’s strawberry,” he said shyly.
Lumina blinked, then gave a faint, tearful smile as she took it.
Celeste adjusted her skewed glasses, pushing them back up her nose with a sigh.
Mezzo tilted his head, grinning.
“That must be brutal, wearin’ those all the time.”
Celeste gave a tiny shrug. “A little. One of my eyes is stronger than the other. Without them, I just… bump into things. Quite a lot, actually.”
Arcade glanced up from his notes, voice flat but tinged with sincerity.
“Same. Can’t make sense of half a screen without mine. Wish I didn’t need them.”
Mezzo blinked, then slapped his paws together.
“Right then! Glasses Gang! We’ll get matching jackets, aye?”
Celeste tilted her head, unimpressed but fond.
“You don’t even wear glasses.”
Arcade smirked, dry as stone.
“He doesn’t even read.”
Mezzo raised both paws like a guilty saint.
“Okay, okay, fine! No gang. Just tryin’ to keep spirits up before the next sugar-monster eats us alive.”
But before anyone could take a breath, Bonbon suddenly bolted down the sugar path, laughing wildly.
“Bonbon, no—wait!” Celeste called out, already sprinting after her.
The little panda girl didn’t stop.
When Celeste finally caught up and scooped her up, Bonbon went stiff as a
board in her arms, face scrunched in defiance.
And then… she erupted into a full toddler tantrum.
She kicked, wailed, and let out an ear-splitting shriek that made Mezzo cover his ears.
“Can we put her on mute?” he grumbled.
Arcade winced. “My nerves are already shot and it’s not even noon.”
Celeste turned slowly, clutching the squirming panda with one arm. Her voice was tight with exhaustion.
“I’m trying, okay?” she snapped. “I know nobody here. I don’t have the
answers. But if we go to the mall, we might find security. Or shelter.
Or maybe even Bonbon’s mother.”
She looked around at all of them, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
“But if everyone could just chill out for five minutes, that would be great—because I am officially freaking out right now!”
A long silence followed. Even Bonbon quieted down, blinking.
Mezzo raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.
“Whatever. Mall’s still a good idea.”
No one argued. Slowly, the group gathered themselves and began moving again.
Lumina walked silently with arms crossed, still upset but following closely behind.
Celeste took a deep breath. She didn’t feel ready to lead anyone.
But for now—she had to.
Comments (0)
See all