A single dewdrop slid from a broken leaf overhead.

It fell slowly, catching the first light of morning as the sun rose over the city—turning the glass and steel of Clawdiff pale gold.

The droplet landed on Celeste’s cheek.

Cold.

She flinched.

Celeste opened her eyes to a low, warning growl vibrating through her bones.

The White Candy Dragon had lifted her head, body still coiled protectively around Celeste and Lumina, lips pulled back just enough to show glowing teeth at anyone who came too close.

“Easy—easy,” Carys said, hands raised. “We’re just checking on the girls.”

Hughes nodded, leaning on his crook. “They’re hurt. We need to make sure nothing’s internal.”

Marzipan watched them for a long, tense second.

Then she loosened her coils and shifted aside.

Celeste sucked in a shaky breath as the pressure lifted. Lumina coughed softly, blinking, but both of them were conscious—and astonishingly intact.

“All right,” Hughes murmured, relief clear. “They’re stable.”

The dragon’s attention shifted.

She turned her massive head toward Ray and Pitch lying a short distance away. With a quiet rumble, she padded over and lowered her glowing muzzle, light spilling from her scales as she healed them.

Ray sat bolt upright with a snarl.

“Hey—back off Marzipan!” she snapped, shoving at the dragon’s face despite the size difference. “Get lost!”

Pitch scrambled in front of her immediately. “Come on now. She said get lost.”

Marzipan blinked.

Then, slowly, she dipped her head in acknowledgment and backed away, tail flicking once before turning her attention elsewhere.

She moved to Mezzo and Topsy next.

Topsy was kneeling beside Mezzo, trying desperately to keep things light while Mezzo screamed like a dying banshee, clutching his arm at a very wrong angle.

“I’m fine—! I’m fine!—okay maybe not fine but I can walk it off—!”

The dragon didn’t ask.

She lowered her head and breathed light over him.

Mezzo screamed louder. “NOPE—HATE THAT—WHY DOES IT TINGLE—”

His arm snapped back into place.

He froze.

“…Oh.”

Topsy beamed. “See? Magic lizard healthcare!”

Mezzo stared at his arm, flexed it once, then looked at the dragon. “…I rescind all previous screaming. Thank you.”

Marzipan rumbled approvingly.

Arcade stumbled over next, carrying Skye in his arms, face pale and terrified.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking. “He’s—he’s not waking up.”

Marzipan didn’t hesitate. She curled around Skye gently, glow pulsing slower this time, softer.

Skye gasped.

Arcade nearly collapsed in relief.

She moved on after that—Plum, Bracer, Bartleby, anyone still standing or still breathing—leaving light and warmth in her wake.

Beyond them, the civilians who’d survived wandered the wreckage.

Some cried, clutching each other, calling names that didn’t answer back. Others shouted in anger, voices sharp with fear and blame, eyes already turning toward the fighters instead of the monsters.

Pitch watched it unfold, jaw tight.

“Great,” he muttered. “Now the survivors are gonna blame us… or leave. Either way, there goes our support.”

Before anyone could answer, the dragon lifted her head.

From her mouth, she spat out several small, shimmering capsules—softly glowing, faintly humming.

Dream capsules.

They rolled across the ground.

Mezzo scooped them up instantly, cradling them like treasure. “Oh hell yes. Thanks, majestic nightmare noodle.”

Marzipan nodded once.

Then she stepped back, her glow dimming as she prepared to leave.

Hughes climbed onto a battered wooden crate, clearing his throat.

“All right!” he called, voice carrying. “If you can hear me, answer when I call your name. We’re doing a roll call—no one moves until we know who’s still with us.”

One by one, voices answered.

Celeste shifted weakly where she lay, the world slowly sharpening back into focus.

She was sore. Exhausted. Terrified down to her marrow.

But alive.

Celeste pushed herself up and ran.

She barely made it three steps before she tripped, legs still shaky, vision swimming. She would have hit the ground again if a broad, warm shape hadn’t stopped her—gentle, impossibly careful.

The White Candy Dragon lowered her head and pressed her muzzle softly to Celeste’s chest, holding her in place.

“Wait—” Celeste gasped. “I—please—”

Marzipan snorted quietly, then spat something into Celeste’s hands.

A dream capsule.

This one was different—iridescent, pearly, light bending across its surface like oil on water. It was… pretty. Comfortingly so.

Celeste opened it with trembling fingers.

Inside—

Her glasses.

The same shape. The same tint. Perfectly intact.

Celeste sucked in a breath that turned into a shaky laugh. “Oh—stars… thank you.” She pressed them to her face, blinking as the world snapped back into focus. “Thank you so much.”

Marzipan tilted her head, something like a smile tugging at the edges of her massive jaw.

Then she lifted her gaze.

The Egg Tree answered.

Its cracked branches flared with soft golden light, leaves shimmering as energy flowed back into the dragon, knitting fractures in her scales, smoothing scorch marks left by the fight. The dragon rumbled in satisfaction as the glow faded.

That was when the sky changed.

The thrum of engines cut through the quiet.

Armoured flying vehicles descended through the thinning clouds, council sigils bright against steel hulls. They landed hard around the park, sealing exits, doors hissing open in perfect formation.

The Council had arrived.

The dragon spread her wings.

“Wait!” Celeste called, stumbling forward. “I— I didn’t even say thank you properly!”

Marzipan looked back once.

Then she launched into the air, white wings slicing through mist and light, vanishing over the city before Celeste could say another word.

The vehicles finished landing.

Lord Lysander Whitemoor stepped out first, immaculate as ever, expression cool and distant. His assistant followed immediately, datapad already in hand. A moment later, Lady Locket Revel emerged from another craft, eyes sharp as she took in the devastation.

The assistant didn’t waste time.

“Where were the Knights yesterday?” he demanded, voice carrying across the park. “The Council issued a priority alert due to increased activity in the pureblood city sectors. You were expected to respond.”

Celeste opened her mouth. “We were under—”

“I’m not finished,” the assistant snapped. “You failed to mobilise. You failed to communicate. You failed to uphold your provisional mandate.”

Pitch stepped forward, jaw tight. “We were dealing with mana storms and a direct assault by zombie generals. We were split across two fronts. Comms were dead.”

Lysander let out a quiet chuckle.

“Pathetic,” he muttered.

Ray’s head snapped up. “Say that again.”

The assistant stepped in immediately. “Judge Whitemoor does not address hybrids. Or any lesser beings.”

Ray growled, muscles tensing.

Pitch put a hand out. “Ray. Ease up. He’s a Judge.”

Celeste swallowed and forced herself to speak. “We were also dealing with a doberman— a Council member. Gideon. I think. He was in the city.”

For the first time—

Lysander stiffened.

Revel’s ears flicked. She smiled thinly. “Lord Gideon was in the city? Without official escort?” She tilted her head. “How odd. He’s meant to remain in the bunkers until the situation stabilises.”

Lysander scoffed, recovering quickly. “You’re probably lying. Hybrids are too lazy to learn who is who in the Council.”

“Oh we know who you are,” Topsy chirped brightly. “You’re the annoying one. All judgey. Or judginess. Doing nothing important but pretending you are.”

There was a sharp silence.

Lysander turned to his assistant. “Remind them,” he said calmly, “that I also decide who the Council sentences. And that we do not require trials for hybrids.”

Topsy visibly backpedalled. “—Haha—joke—big joke—love judges—”

Celeste stepped forward again, voice steady despite everything. “I’m telling the truth.”

Lady Revel glanced at her, something unreadable in her eyes. “Caedrix Umbranox was… disappointed she couldn’t reach you,” she said lightly. “And don’t forget—the navy has mobilised. They’re engaging the kraken as we speak.”

Her gaze swept over the ruined park, the wounded, the shaken civilians.

“This,” she added softly, “isn’t the only fire burning tonight.”

Celeste tightened her grip on her restored glasses.

Lysander’s gaze swept the park with open disdain—broken stone, scorched earth, civilians huddled in shock.

Lady Revel clicked her tongue lightly. “Oh my. You really could have tidied before we arrived.”

Lysander snorted. “I told you—they’re lazy. I don’t know why you’re fascinated.”

Hughes stood on the crate again, shoulders heavy, eyes red-rimmed. “Roll call’s finished,” he said quietly.

The reactions came in waves.

Some mothers collapsed where they stood when names didn’t answer.
Some screamed—demanding justice, demanding answers.
Others stared at the ground in silence, unable to process that siblings, partners, children had simply been… taken.

Hughes closed his eyes for a moment, then swallowed.

“Bonbon,” he called. “Bonbon—respond.”

Nothing.

The quiet stretched.

Celeste shook her head violently. “No. No—no—no— not Bonbon.”

Mezzo was already moving, sprinting full tilt through the park, vaulting rubble, shouting her name until his voice cracked.

“Bonbon! Panda—hey—answer me!”

Pitch vanished into shadow, reappearing again and again at the park’s edges, scanning trees, wreckage, rooftops—anywhere a small body could have been dragged.

Carys screamed, raw and panicked. “Bonbon!”

Plum’s voice crackled over the radio. “Has anyone seen a panda? Two years old—answers to Bonbon—please!”

Lysander barely glanced at them.

“One hybrid is irrelevant,” he said coolly. “You are to mobilise tomorrow for the kraken assault. Do not be late this time. This operation is vital to the stability of the city.”

Celeste spun on him.

“She’s two,” she choked, stepping forward before anyone could stop her. “She can’t defend herself. She doesn’t even understand what’s happening—we need everyone looking for her. Everyone.”

Carys let out a broken sob behind her.

Lysander finally turned his head.

“One hybrid baby does not require the full mobilisation of the Knights,” he replied evenly. “Your emotional attachment does not change strategic priorities.”

Lady Revel smiled, eyes glittering. “Please don’t be late,” she added lightly. “I so love watching you fight.”

Celeste froze.

Her chest felt hollow.

“J-just—” she forced the words out, hands clenched so tightly her claws bit into her palms. “Could we… have more time? Just until she’s found?”

Lysander sighed—as if indulging a child.

“The Council does not tolerate delays.”

He paused, then held out a hand.

“My tablet.”

An aide passed it to him at once.

Lysander tapped the screen, eyes flicking as data scrolled past. His brow lifted—just a fraction.

“Hm,” he murmured. “That’s… interesting.”

Celeste’s stomach dropped.

“It appears,” Lysander continued mildly, “that both you and Lumina have altered identification records in my system.”

Carys went still.

“What?” Celeste whispered.

“Your runes, your residency flags, portions of your registration history,” Lysander said, scrolling. “Cleverly done. Sloppy, but effective. Someone went to great lengths to ensure you weren’t… processed.”

He looked up at her at last.

“You’re fortunate,” he said. “Lady Umbranox has taken an interest in you.”

The pause that followed was deliberate.

“Otherwise,” Lysander finished calmly, “you would both be batteries by now.”

The word hung in the air—cold, clinical.

Lumina shifted weakly, a soft, confused sound leaving her throat.

Celeste felt sick.

Lysander’s attention returned to the tablet.

“As for the panda,” he said, tone sharpening again, “if she is found, the Council will be required to conduct a formal review. She appears to be illegally settled in Clawdiff. Her rune was not manufactured by Sweettooth Harmonics.”

Celeste looked up at him, horror blooming.

“H-how do you know that?”

Lysander met her gaze without blinking.

“Because I own Sweettooth Harmonics,” he said simply. “And I know everyone registered on the system.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel personal.

“This is your last chance to prove the Knights are responsible, Celeste,” he said. “If your unit does not report for deployment tomorrow… you may find Council support withdrawn entirely.”

He turned away.

Stepped into the armoured vehicle.

The doors sealed. Engines roared.

The craft lifted off and vanished into the thinning clouds.

Silence fell back over the park—broken only by distant sobs and frantic calling.

Celeste stood there, shaking.

Bonbon was gone.

And tomorrow, the Council expected them to fight a kraken like none of this mattered at all.