The corridors stretched endlessly, lined with flickering mana-lights that cast long, warped shadows. The air felt thick — too sweet, too heavy. Every breath carried the scent of sugar and rot.

Celeste slowed her pace. “Mezzo?” she whispered.

Ahead, she swore she saw his spotted tail vanish around a corner.

She hurried after him — only to stop dead.

The corridor was empty.

No footprints.

No movement.

Just a faint smear of pink sherbet melting into the tiles.

Her ears pinned back. “No… no, no, no—”

A shout cracked above her.

“Celeste!”

She looked up just in time to see Mezzo tumble from the top of the wall as if the corridor had spat him out sideways. He hit the floor hard, rolled once, then sprang up with his axe clutched in both paws.

“What in the deep-fried nightmare was that?!” he yelped.

Celeste rushed to him. “Mezzo! I thought I saw you run ahead.”

“I thought I saw you fall through the floor!” Mezzo snapped, then froze.

They stared at each other.

The same realisation passed between them.

Illusions.

The corridor wasn’t just splitting them up.

It was showing them whatever would make them run.

Mezzo’s ears flattened. “Right. New rule.”

Celeste nodded quickly. “Don’t trust anything we see?”

“That too.” He grabbed her paw. “But mostly — no letting go.”

Celeste blinked down at their joined hands, then tightened her grip.

“Agreed.”

Somewhere down another hall, Lumina’s voice echoed, “Ray? I think I found a way—”

Then a scream.

Pitch sprinted toward the sound, shotgun drawn, only for the walls to warp — sherbet sliding like liquid glass across the panels, sealing him off from the others.

Arcade shouted through the comm, “Signal’s breaking—! The corridor’s looping!”

Skye’s small voice trembled through the static. “I can’t find anyone… the walls are sticky…”

The wraith’s laughter rippled through the air — distorted, melodic, and cruel.

“Little knights… little sweets. You scatter so easily. Shall I play with you one by one?”

The lights flickered crimson, and the walls began to breathe.

Celeste’s grip tightened around Mezzo’s paw as they ran. Every echo in the corridor felt alive, every flicker of light shifting the sherbet haze on the walls.

When the first zombies lunged from the vents, they moved as one — back-to-back, breath syncing like clockwork.

Mezzo’s axe roared in a wide arc, cleaving through two candy-stained skulls. Celeste spun beside him, twin katanas flashing in silver ribbons, her voice cutting through the chaos.

“Don’t let go of me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Mezzo shouted back, his laughter half-mad with fear.

They fought like that—tethered, refusing to be separated—until a scream echoed ahead.

“LUMINA!”

Celeste bolted forward, dragging Mezzo along. They rounded the bend to find Lumina surrounded—half a dozen zombies closing in, their sugary breath thick and sickly. Her shield was up, sword trembling in her grip.

Then she blinked—and they were gone.

Illusions.
The hallway was empty. Only the sound of faint laughter in the walls, like the wraith was mocking her through the pipes.

“Cece…” Lumina whispered. “It’s toying with us.”

Before Celeste could answer, a crash thundered from behind.

Ray tumbled through a side passage, rolling hard and swearing as sparks flew from her hammer. Behind her, the candy werewolf stalked into view, massive and grotesque—its fur patchy with caramel, its claws glistening like broken glass.

“RAY!” Celeste yelled, sprinting forward.

Ray swung her hammer in a blazing arc, a comet of fire-light and fury. The monster caught it mid-swing with one claw.

For a heartbeat, everything froze—Ray staring up into its molten eyes, disbelief flashing across her face.

Then it threw her.

She crashed into a column, stone and sugar shards raining down, sliding to the floor with a pained growl.

“Foxfire!” Mezzo shouted, rushing toward her, but Celeste grabbed his arm.

“Wait—its mana’s unstable! You’ll—”

The werewolf roared, the sound shaking the corridor like thunder. Sherbet dripped from its jaws in thick, luminous ropes.

Celeste’s eyes narrowed, breath quickening. “Alright… everyone stay together.”

The candy werewolf slammed its bulk forward, wedging itself between two cracked pillars. Its swollen frame pulsed with glowing sugar veins, drawing more sherbet through the floor like a feeding beast.

Mezzo’s eyes went wide. “It’s—wait—it’s eating the stuff!”

Celeste blinked. “That’s… disgusting.”

“It’s also stupid,” Mezzo grinned, eyes glinting. “’Cause if it wants sugar—let’s feed it till it pops!”

He kicked a loose brick from the floor, bouncing it off the creature’s nose. “Oi, gumbrain! You hungry? Come get dessert!”

The beast roared, drooling glowing syrup, and began clawing its way toward him, crushing through the corridor walls.

“Mezzo!” Celeste shouted. “What are you doing?!”

“Improvising!” he yelled back, flashing a cocky grin. “C’mon, asshat—follow me!”

He bolted down a side hallway, guitar-axe in hand, his laughter echoing over the thunder of claws.

Arcade smirked. “He’s insane.”

Ray cracked her knuckles, grinning. “Yeah. But I like insane.”

“Then keep up,” Pitch said, loading his cards with a flick of his wrist. “’Cause that thing’s about to get a sugar rush it won’t survive.”

The hallway trembled beneath the thunder of the creature’s steps. Sticky candy splattered from the ceiling as the monstrous werewolf barreled forward, its jaw gaping wide.

“Keep moving!” Celeste yelled, blades flashing as she and Lumina hacked through the crawling sugar fiends that oozed out of the walls. Chip stomped a few flat with mechanical precision, grumbling, “This place needs less goo and more door!”

Behind them, Ray and Mezzo kicked chunks of melted candy toward the beast’s mouth. “You want a snack?” Ray shouted. “Chew on this, you overgrown piñata!”

The werewolf swallowed greedily, glowing brighter—its swollen body creaking as its frame strained.

From the rear, Pitch and Hughes rounded the corner with Skye in tow. Pitch froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait… look at the back of its spine—see that? The glow’s uneven.”

Hughes followed his gaze. “You’re right. That’s where the sugar flow’s weakest.”

Pitch loaded a charged card, snapping it into his shotgun. “Then the front’s a decoy. The kill spot’s the back.”

He raised his voice, calling down the corridor:
“Celeste! Hit the front—make it focus on you! We’ll take the back!”

Celeste gave a quick nod. “Got it! Lumina, on me!”

As the beast lunged, Celeste and Lumina met it head-on, slashing and shielding in unison, while Ray’s hammer crashes drew its rage.

Behind, Pitch fired a card shot—lightning this time—that crackled across the creature’s spine. Hughes swung his crook, the strike delayed by his chrono field so the hit landed twice. Skye’s summoned knight dashed forward, spearing through the weak point, candy erupting like molten caramel.

The creature howled, the corridor shaking as molten sherbet poured from the wound.

“Keep pushing!” Celeste shouted. “We’ve got it!”

Mezzo grinned, flipping his axe. “Then let’s make this thing explode!”

They didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Ray and Chip smashed through every stray zombie that stumbled too close, hammer and steel echoing through the corridor. Sparks and sugar dust filled the air.

“Come on, tin can!” Ray yelled as she crushed another zombie’s head into syrup.
Chip’s voice crackled through his speakers, “Correction—we’re crushing, thank you very much.”

Up ahead, Celeste and Lumina fought shoulder to shoulder. Celeste’s twin katanas cut deep into the werewolf’s legs, slowing its advance while Lumina raised her shield, deflecting candy shards raining from the ceiling.

Behind them, Arcade and Mezzo worked in frantic rhythm—tossing loose candy chunks, gum cores, and syrup packs into the monster’s open maw.
“Come on, eat up, you gluttonous freak!” Mezzo barked, grinning despite the chaos. “Dinner’s on us!”
Arcade laughed breathlessly. “I swear if this actually works, I’m putting this on my résumé!”

The beast grew larger, veins of molten sugar glowing through its skin. It howled, clawing at the walls as its bloated form cracked and steamed.

“Now!” Pitch shouted.

From the rear line, Hughes braced his crook. Time rippled—everything slowed. Pitch fired a volley of elemental cards that burst against the creature’s spine, each shot finding the weak point. Skye summoned his archer spirit, spectral arrows piercing the same spot until the core at the beast’s back flickered—then imploded.

The explosion tore through the corridor, a shockwave of molten candy and shattered tile.

The floor gave way beneath them.

They fell—shouting, tumbling through smoke and syrup—until they crashed into a cavernous chamber below. The air was heavy with sweetness and rot.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of candy pods lined the walls, pulsing faintly with mana light. Some were empty. Others… still moved.

Celeste pushed herself up, dizzy, her fur sticky with sugar and blood.
“Oh stars…” she whispered. “What is this place?”

The knights groaned, pulling themselves free from the sticky rubble.

Celeste blinked through the haze, sapphire eyes catching the faint pulsing light that filled the chamber.

Rows upon rows of pods—some glass, some resinous candy—lined the walls like grotesque cocoons. Their glow was rhythmic, like breathing. Inside each, half-formed shapes twitched and writhed.

Ray stepped forward, hammer raised. “What in the ever-loving hell…?”

Arcade crouched beside one, his visor flickering. “These… these aren’t all candy-made.” He brushed a layer of sugar off the side, revealing a faded council crest. His expression darkened. “These are ours. Council-issued pods.”

Hughes frowned, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Council pods? Down here?”

Celeste’s heart pounded. She ran her claws along the sleek surface of another pod. Unlike the zombie ones—misshapen and organic—these were precise, polished, made of reinforced glass and steel. Inside, she saw a young hybrid, unconscious, faint blue veins of mana threading through tubes.

“Stars…” she whispered, stepping back. “These aren’t just power conduits… they’re people.”

Pitch scanned the others, his eyes widening. “She’s right. Look—labels.”

Each pod had a tag, metallic and cold:
INMATE 847-2H. HYBRID – CLASS B.
SUBJECT 302-M. MYTHIC – UNLICENSED.

Ray clenched her fists. “The council… they’ve been using us.”

Arcade swallowed hard, pulling up the pod schematics on his bracer. “They’re tied straight into the power grid. They don’t need the leyline anymore—they’ve been draining hybrid and mythic mana to power Clawdiff.”

Celeste stumbled back, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make sense—the plant sits right on a leyline. There’s mana underneath like a river. Why… why steal from bodies when the ground is already giving?”

Hughes’s voice turned grim. “Aye. That’s the point, lass. They didn’t need to do this.”

Lumina’s voice trembled. “Then why…?”

Arcade swallowed hard, pulling up the pod schematics on his bracer. Holographic panes spilled into the air, flickering with grid maps, power routes, and old leyline charts beneath the plant.

“Hang on,” he muttered. “These aren’t just tied into the city grid. They’re tied into the leyline grid.”

Celeste moved closer. “What does that mean?”

Arcade didn’t answer at first.

His face had gone pale.

A meter bloomed above his bracer — a vertical gauge labelled:

LEYLINE OUTPUT // CLAWDIFF EASTERN GRID

The bar flickered near the bottom.

Red.

Nearly empty.

Arcade stared at it. “That… can’t be right.”

CHIP’s voice crackled through the bracer, bright and viciously sarcastic.

“Oh lovely. The mana is almost gone. So naturally, instead of admitting the city is running out of life-force, the Council appears to be using Hybrids and Mythics as replacement batteries to keep Clawdiff functioning. Very normal. Very ethical. Ten out of ten governance.”

Ray’s eyes snapped wide.

“No.”

Arcade swiped through the data faster, horror deepening with every file that opened.

“The leyline underneath the plant isn’t feeding the city anymore. It’s barely producing anything. These pods are compensating for the drop.”

Ray shook her head. “But the plant sits right on a leyline. There’s mana underneath like a river. There’s supposed to be.”

Hughes’ face hardened.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “Supposed to be.”

Lumina clutched her ribbon with both hands. “So… they need them?”

Hughes looked at the pods.

At the unconscious bodies.

At the tubes draining blue light from living veins.

His voice turned grim.

“They’re using us as a necessity.”

The words landed harder than shouting.

Ray’s expression twisted into fury. “A necessity?”

Her hammer sparked.

“They’ve known the mana was failing? They’ve known Clawdiff was running dry, and they didn’t tell anyone?”

Hughes looked tired suddenly. Older.

“If they told the public the leyline was almost gone, there’d be panic. Pureblood districts would riot. Noble houses would start hoarding. Mythics would flee. Hybrids would realise exactly why more of us kept disappearing into custody and never coming back.”

Ray’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.

“So they lied.”

“Aye,” Hughes said. “They lied. Then they built a system that kept the lights on and kept the truth buried.”

Celeste looked around the chamber, the hum of stolen mana vibrating through her bones.

All this time, the city above had glowed.

Streetlamps.

Barriers.

Council towers.

Safe zones.

Warm homes behind sealed gates.

And beneath it all, people like her had been sleeping in glass coffins, drained slowly so everyone else could pretend the world was still working.

Pitch’s voice came low and venomous.

“Clawdiff isn’t powered by mana anymore.”

He looked at the pods.

“It’s powered by prisoners.”