They moved through the city in a loose line, boots crunching over glass-sugar and cracked stone. The glow from distant fires painted everything amber and wrong.
Silver stayed close to Celeste. Too close. Like if he drifted more than a step away, gravity might remember her again.
He broke first.
“Celeste,” he said, low. “What happened after I jumped?”
She blinked, surprised by the question, then glanced down at her wrist. “Oh. Um. My cord got snagged by a zombie.” She lifted her hand, miming the catch. “I couldn’t pull free in time.”
Silver’s jaw tightened. His mind was already sprinting. Anchor points. Timing. Weight distribution. A dozen alternate endings played out behind his eyes, most of them ending with him not letting go.
“And the zombie?” he asked.
“It grabbed me,” she said gently, like she was describing tripping over a step. “Didn’t bite. Didn’t hurt. It just… fiddled with my rune.”
Silver stopped walking.
It took effort for him to start again.
“Fiddled,” he repeated, flat and dangerous. “With a stabilisation rune.”
“I know how that sounds,” Celeste said quickly. “But it wasn’t aggressive. It was more like it was… curious? Like it didn’t understand what it was looking at.”
Silver dragged a hand through his hair. “That could have gone catastrophically wrong.” His voice cracked just enough to give him away. “I didn’t mean to let go. I—misjudged. If I’d angled differently, or delayed half a second—”
Celeste reached out and caught his sleeve, grounding him mid-spiral. “Hey. It’s okay. Really. You saved me. I promise, I’m not upset. Please don’t worry.”
He looked at her like he wanted to believe that was possible.
Arcade, walking a few paces ahead, didn’t slow down—but his ears twitched back.
“I am worried,” he said bluntly.
Both of them looked at him.
“That thing shouldn’t have been able to interact with her rune at all,” Arcade continued. “Candy zombies don’t do delicate. They do bite, chew, or explode. ‘Curious’ is not in their usual behaviour set.”
Celeste offered a small, hopeful smile. “Maybe it’s learning?”
Arcade glanced back at her, expression unreadable. “Maybe. Or maybe it was testing something.”
He fell into step beside her, wrist device flickering to life with a soft chirr. A thin lattice of light swept over Celeste from head to toe—mana, vitals, something deeper he didn’t have a name for yet.
“…Huh.”
That wasn’t comforting.
Celeste glanced sideways. “That a good huh or a bad huh?”
Arcade slowed, frowning at the readout. “It’s a nothing makes sense huh.” He tapped the screen, then tapped it again, harder, as if it might confess. “Your core signature’s intact. No corruption spike. No residual candy binding. Whatever that zombie did… it didn’t leave fingerprints.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” she said.
“It’s not,” Arcade replied flatly. Then, after a beat, “So let’s all be very careful just in case.”
Celeste hummed thoughtfully. “It’s weird though. That zombie wasn’t hostile. It was just… trying to figure things out. Like it was curious.” She wrinkled her nose. “I still don’t understand the brownie thing.”
Arcade paused mid-step. For half a second, something distant crossed his face—gears spinning, alarms quietly ringing. Then he shook his head and kept walking. “Yeah,” he said. “Weird.”
She flexed her fingers, testing the faint warmth under her skin. “I do feel lighter, if that helps. Like my mana’s… balanced.”
Arcade didn’t look at her this time. His voice came out carefully neutral. “That’s good to know.”
Celeste slowed. “Arcade… you okay?”
He forced a small shrug. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just—” A pause, honest and thin. “—a little freaked out still.”
His mouth twisted.
“And C.H.I.P. mentioned I shared DNA with that thing. The Chupacabra zombie.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying and failing to sound casual. “Might be worth looking into later. You know. When we’re not actively traumatised, running, being judged by Ray, or covered in gumball residue.”
Celeste’s ears lowered. “Arcade…”
He waved her off quickly.
“Later,” he said. “Definitely a later problem.”
He glanced ahead where the lights of the base were coming into view.
“Anyway. Base is almost here.”
Back at base, the Egg Tree glowed softly—its bark knitting itself together in slow, luminous veins as survivors were ushered inside. Hughes moved with quiet efficiency, directing people to med tents, assigning blankets, water, names. Grounding the chaos. Holding the line the way he always did.
Celeste barely had time to set her feet on the stone before Mezzo hit her.
Not hard—just fast. Arms wrapped around her, crushing, shaking like he needed proof she was solid.
“You’re alive,” he breathed into her hair. “Stars, Celeste—don’t ever do that to me again.”
She hugged him back just as tightly, fingers digging into his jacket. “I’m okay,” she said softly. “I promise.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her face, eyes wild with relief. “You’re telling me everything later. What was in that gumball? Because whatever it was, it nearly killed me waiting.”
Before she could answer—
“WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU GUYS?”
Pitch stormed out of the corridor like a thunderclap, coat half-unbuttoned, eyes blazing.
“Ray is livid,” he snapped. “Like, ‘throw-a-table-at-someone’ livid. Do you have any idea—”
He stopped mid-rant.
His gaze slid past Celeste.
Landed on Silver.
Mezzo followed his line of sight. “Ohhh,” he said slowly. “New guy. Huh. He looks… familiar.”
From behind him, Pitch groaned like the universe had personally betrayed him.
“Oh stars,” he muttered. “Not him. Anyone but him.”
Silver raised a brow, dry as ever. “I’m right here, you know. If you’d like to insult me directly.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Pitch said pleasantly. He walked right up, stopping just short of Silver and Celeste. “You are the reason we all have suppression runes. You’re the reason our features got shaved down to look pureblood-friendly. You’re the reason no hybrid can sneeze without paperwork.”
Arcade snapped his fingers. “Aha. Knew I’d seen that face somewhere.”
Silver sighed. “For the record, none of that was my choice. But please—go on. I do enjoy a good monologue about my moustache-twirling villainy.”
Pitch smirked. “Oh, add asshole to the list. This is getting better by the second.” He jerked a thumb toward the exit. “Go back to the Council. We don’t need you here.”
Celeste stepped forward. “Pitch—if he’s on the Council then—”
“He’s a hybrid with no backing,” Pitch cut in. “About as powerful as a chocolate fire guard.”
Silver shrugged lightly. “He’s not wrong.”
Then, quieter. Sharper.
“But one day, I won’t be.”
Before that could land—
“VALENTINE!”
Bartleby came running, coat flapping, eyes wild with relief. He swept the little border collie girl from Silver’s arms with shaking hands, holding her as carefully as if she were made of glass.
“Oh my stars—Valentine—you saved my niece! You saved her!”
Then he paused.
His brow furrowed.
“…Why is her fur pink?”
No one answered.
Celeste suddenly became very interested in the floor.
Arcade looked away.
Silver cleared his throat with the exact expression of a man deciding that silence was, for once, the most elegant political strategy.
Bartleby looked between them.
“…Right,” he said faintly, hugging Valentine closer. “That will be a question for later, then.”
Then he really looked at Silver.
“…You’re alive.”
Silver smiled, professional and warm. “Very much so. Just… temporarily misfiled.”
Bartleby’s hands trembled. “We thought you were dead. After the mana bomb at the embassy—no one survived.”
“I took a detour,” Silver said smoothly.
Celeste blinked. “Oh—you mean the convention?”
Silver stopped.
Turned to her.
His expression went completely, terrifyingly serious.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear.”
And then—just like that—he turned back to Bartleby and continued walking with him, already mid-conversation.
Celeste watched them go, unease prickling at the base of her skull.
That was… odd.
Celeste felt a small, familiar tug at the hem of her jacket.
She looked down.
Bonbon stood there, soot-smudged and wrapped in an oversized blanket, panda ears poking out crookedly. Her eyes were bright.
“Helo mam. Mi gollais di.”
(Hi mum. I missed you.)
Celeste’s breath left her in a broken sound.
She dropped to her knees and scooped Bonbon up instantly, holding her tight against her chest like she might vanish again if she let go. “Oh—bonnie—I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Did… did that big scary Minotaur take you?”
Bonbon giggled, the sound light and utterly unbothered by recent trauma.
“Rhoddais i dap ar ei drwyn.”
(I smacked him on the nose.)
Celeste blinked—then laughed, a wet, disbelieving laugh that came with tears. “You what?” She pressed her forehead to Bonbon’s. “Of course you did.”
Bonbon beamed, proud as anything.
Celeste straightened slowly—and froze.
Up in the branches of the Egg Tree, Ray stood with her arms crossed, tail flicking, glare sharp enough to cut glass.
Celeste gulped.
…This was going to be awkward.
Before Ray could descend like judgment incarnate, Topsy came bouncing over, nearly tripping on her own boots.
“OH MY STARS YOU’RE OKAY!” she yelled, throwing her arms around Celeste and Bonbon both. “You would not believe what happened after you left—every zombie just STOPPED what they were doing and ran after us! Like whoosh! And then after that? Nothing! The whole area around the Gumball was clear for hours!”
She leaned in, whispering dramatically. “We totally thought about rescuing you but—well—Ray did.”
Celeste blinked. “Ray… wanted to rescue me?”
Topsy nodded enthusiastically. “We all did!”
She grinned wide. “But then you rescued yourself, so—gold star! Honestly, very on-brand.”
Celeste let out a shaky breath, hugging Bonbon closer.
“Well,” Topsy added brightly, clapping her hands, “now the Council won’t be mad at us tomorrow!”
From the tree, Ray snorted.
Celeste winced.
Yep.
Definitely awkward.
Slowly, Celeste made her way toward the Egg Tree.
Each step felt heavier than the last—like a child being marched to the headmistress’s office, already knowing the lecture, already bracing for it. The tree loomed ahead, its luminous bark whispering softly, branches creaking as Ray shifted somewhere above.
Before Celeste could reach the door—
“HEY.”
Echo bounded into her path, far too energetic for someone who’d nearly been turned into candy fuel. He grinned, hands shoved into his pockets like this was just another ordinary afternoon.
“Just wanted to say—I’m heading to the university. For real this time,” he said quickly. “No detours. No raiders. No zombies. Definitely.”
Celeste smiled, small but genuine. “I’m glad. You’ll do great.”
Echo hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Also… thanks. For looking out for hybrids. It’s rare. Like, really rare.”
Celeste blinked, a little surprised. “Anytime.”
Echo nodded, satisfied. He pressed something cold and heavy into her palm—an old, worn coin, edges smooth with age.
“Lucky,” he said simply.
Then he turned and jogged off, already waving at someone across the base.
Celeste stared at the coin for a second… then closed her fingers around it and exhaled.
Right.
Time to face it.
She opened the door beneath the Egg Tree.
Ray was already there.
Arms crossed. Expression flat. Eyes sharp.
Celeste immediately raised her hands. “Okay—before you say anything—I’m begging you—please don’t use a pipe to bolt me to the wall again.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“I don’t think,” Ray said coolly, “that I need to tell you how pissed I am at you.”
Celeste shrank about two inches where she stood.
Ray’s gaze flicked past her—to Bonbon laughing with survivors, to the med teams, to the sheer number of people filling the base.
“…But,” Ray added, quieter, “I’m glad you’re alive. And that Bonbon’s back.”
Celeste swallowed. “Ray, I—”
“And,” Ray continued, cutting her off, “you didn’t need to bring half of Clawdiff back with you.”
Celeste opened her mouth. “I was just trying to—”
“I don’t care,” Ray snapped, finally turning fully away. “I’m done trying to talk to you. You never listen anyway.”
She walked off down the corridor, boots echoing against stone.
Celeste stood there alone in the doorway, coin clenched tight in her hand.
Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.
