The van tore through the city sky, its engines humming like an execution drum. Buildings slid past in streaks of neon and stone. Inside, the air was thick with ozone and fear.

Mezzo’s claws dug into the bench seat, knuckles white. His fur was trembling.

Celeste leaned closer. “It’s… it’s going to be alright,” she said softly.

“Alright?!” Mezzo’s voice cracked, panic breaking free. “No — it won’t be alright. Last time the Council came to my house—” His voice dropped to a rasp. “—my brother didn’t make it.”

He pressed his forehead to his claws.

“I know what’s going to happen. I know it. Hybrids don’t get out alive. I should have run. I should have just ran.”

He muttered like a mantra, “Shit, shit, shit…”

Celeste glanced at the others.

Pitch, Ray, even Arcade — none of them looked back.

Their faces were solemn.

Silent.

She tried again. “Seriously… it can’t be like that. I know the Council is bad, but my dad works for them. Maybe if I can just talk to him, he can—”

“Shut it,” snapped one of the soldiers.

Celeste flinched.

The gazelle Pureblood didn’t even look up from her scanner. “You will speak when questioned. Not before.”

Celeste’s mouth closed.

Arcade’s voice came low and hard from beside her. “My mother was Mythic. Practicing science without a Council license. You know what her sentence was? Indentured servitude. Indefinite.”

His eyes flicked to Celeste.

“What do you think we’re going to get, Celeste? Hybrids get the worst sentences.”

He buried his face in his hands. “I’m only sixteen,” he muttered. “And I’m going to be locked up forever.”

Celeste’s heart clenched. She looked to Pitch. “Hey, can you do that… thing?”

He didn’t even glance at her, just pointed subtly to the blinking red eye of the camera in the van’s ceiling.

“Not here, Kitten.”

Celeste blinked. “Oh… I see.”

He managed a faint smile. “Try not to talk too much.”

Celeste reached for her weapon on instinct — but the anti-mana collar around her throat pulsed, blocking the spark before it could form.

Nothing happened.

The van banked left, descending. Outside, the skyline shifted.

A skyscraper-tall gothic cathedral loomed ahead, its silhouette like claws raking the sky. Twin mana barriers shimmered over the plaza like invisible shields, and at its colossal doors hung a giant golden eye — burning bright, unblinking.

They passed through the barriers, the air heavy with static.

The van touched down.

Council soldiers poured out first, their muskets and stun-lances aimed inward as the doors swung open.

The courtyard outside the cathedral bristled with power. Knights stood in formation, their black armour gleaming like obsidian, each carrying a humming broadsword edged in pale laser-light. Behind them loomed giants encased in hulking power-suits — shoulder cannons whining as their cores warmed, plated fists large enough to crush a cart in one swing.

Above them, on marble balconies, the Council watched.

Their clothes looked torn from another age — Victorian cuts stitched with luminous thread, capes and corsets augmented with futuristic plating and mana-lace. Golden Council insignia pins gleamed at every throat and collar.

Some councillors scoffed openly at the sight of Hybrids in chains, noses wrinkled as if the prisoners carried disease. Others gasped, fans half-raised, caught between scandal and fascination at seeing such creatures dragged through their sacred halls.

They were herded through a side entrance — one the public would never see.

Cold stone swallowed them as they descended into a long, narrow corridor deep beneath the Council cathedral. The scent of iron, old mana, and sterilised fear clung to the air.

“I am Commander Backfire,” the bear announced without turning. “You will be processed, then escorted to holding cells for mandatory isolation. After that — interrogation.”

He looked over his shoulder, muzzle curling in disdain.

“Depending on your answers, you may be formally charged.”

Celeste’s voice was small. “So… we’re not actually charged with anything?”

A sharp crack echoed down the hallway.

Celeste reeled as the gazelle struck her across the cheek with a swift, practiced backhand. Her head snapped to the side. She caught herself, ears ringing.

“Do not speak, Hybrid,” the gazelle spat. “How many times must we remind you what you are?”

Celeste’s pupils narrowed.

A low, involuntary catlike growl rose in her throat.

Commander Backfire halted, turned, and narrowed his eyes.

“Was that a threat, Astallan?”

Celeste looked down.

Shook her head once.

“…No, sir.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

They reached the cell block — iron doors reinforced with mana locks and cold silver bars. One opened with a hiss and slam.

The five of them were shoved inside.

The lights buzzed. The walls hummed. The door sealed shut.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Finally, Celeste broke the silence, rubbing the raw spot on her cheek. “I’m sorry. This is because of my flare-up… isn’t it?”

Ray leaned against the wall, eyes closed. “Doesn’t matter now, Blondie.”

She sounded tired.

Not angry.

Just… done.

Mezzo sat with his head in his hands, still shaking.

Pitch stared at the door, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Arcade lay flat on the cold bench, blinking at the ceiling like he was trying to rewrite it.

No one said anything else.

Because there was nothing to say.

Then footsteps approached outside.

Not heavy.

Not hurried.

Measured.

The cell door screeched open.

Silence followed — but it was a weapon, not mercy.

A tall figure stepped inside. Cloaked in black. Shadow fur. Silver eyes like slits of moonlight. No introduction. No threats. Just presence.

Silent.

The black fox assassin.

Council operative.

Judge.

Executioner.

He didn’t need a weapon to be dangerous.

He was one.

Commander Backfire turned sharply. “This one has not been processed.”

Silent’s gaze moved to Celeste.

It did not waver.

“She comes with me.”

Backfire’s eyes narrowed. “She is Council property until assessed. The Council will see her first.”

Silent said nothing for a breath too long.

Then, calmly, “A prior request was made.”

Backfire’s ears twitched. “By whom?”

Silent’s expression did not change.

“Someone whose requests are not refused twice.”

The air in the corridor tightened.

The gazelle’s monocle gave a faint nervous click as it adjusted itself.

Backfire stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I have my orders.”

Silent’s eyes lifted to meet his.

“So do I.”

“You do not outrank me.”

“No.”

Silent’s voice stayed soft.

“I do not need to.”

Backfire’s muzzle curled in contempt. “Careful, fox. You may skulk in noble shadows, but do not mistake borrowed authority for blood. The Council tolerates useful Hybrids. It does not kneel to them.”

Ray’s head snapped up.

Pitch went very still.

Silent did not move.

Backfire leaned closer, voice turning uglier. “And if one went missing down here, who would notice? Who would care? No one misses a Hybrid.”

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then Backfire stopped breathing.

His eyes dropped.

A thin black blade rested under his ribs, angled neatly between armour plates.

Silent had not seemed to move.

No one had seen him draw it.

Even Backfire had not felt it until it was already there.

Silent’s voice was quiet enough to make everyone strain to hear it.

“My lady gave an order.”

The blade pressed a hair deeper.

“Do not make me explain it again.”

Backfire’s jaw worked.

His pride fought his survival.

Survival won.

Slowly, very slowly, he stepped back.

Silent withdrew the blade as if it had never been there.

Backfire grabbed Celeste by the chain and yanked her forward hard enough that she stumbled.

“Take her, then,” he snarled.

He shoved her in Silent’s direction.

Celeste nearly fell, but Silent caught the chain before she hit the floor.

Not gently.

Not cruelly.

Precisely.

The soldiers along the walls raised their weapons.

Barrels glinted. Mana hummed in the air.

One guard sneered, “Try anything. See if your friends ever wake up again.”

Celeste froze, heart pounding.

She looked at the others — Arcade, Pitch, Ray, Mezzo — all silent, bound, helpless.

Her chest heaved.

She swallowed hard.

Then, slowly — reluctantly — she stepped forward.

Chains rattling.

As she lowered her head in surrender, she whispered, “...See you later. Hopefully.”

A pause.

Mezzo lifted his head just enough to catch her eyes.

Despite everything, he managed a crooked smile.

“Good luck, Princess.”

Silent didn’t wait.

He yanked the chain and led her forward into the corridor.

The shadows swallowed her whole.

And the cell door slammed shut behind them.

The walk through the corridor was long, each step echoing like a drumbeat of dread. Celeste’s eyes strayed to the black fox pacing just ahead of her. His armour caught the torchlight, shadows licking across its plates.

She tried to speak — just a whisper, just a question — but before sound left her lips, he snapped his gaze toward her.

The look alone was enough to choke the words back into silence.

When they reached a heavy door banded with steel and mana seals, he finally turned. His voice was even, almost calm, yet sharp enough to cut air.

“My name is Silent,” he said. “I will be your interrogator. You will answer all questions the speakers ask you. And you will not lie, or it will end badly for you. Understood?”

Celeste’s throat tightened. “Who am I—”

He cut across her like a blade. “Is that clear? I did not suggest you could ask me a question.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good.”

His ears twitched once, the only hint of life beneath the mask.

“If you answer truthfully… perhaps we will not need to interrogate your friends.”

The weight of it pressed down, and Celeste lowered her head in surrender.

Chains rattled as they locked Celeste into the chair — thick steel, bolted to the floor.

A harsh spotlight snapped on above, blinding her. Everything beyond its circle vanished into shadow.

Only the cold bite of metal under her paws, and the thunder of her own heartbeat, felt real.

A voice slid out from behind the glass.

Cool.

Controlled.

Regal.

“You stand accused of grievous violations,” the woman intoned. “Unauthorized mana use within city zones. Harboring Hybrids with unstable mana. Breaching suppression protocols. Interference in Council operations. All punishable by imprisonment…”

A page turned.

The sound was louder than it should have been.

“…or public execution.”