Celeste hurried up the stairway, but her paws slowed halfway.
Brassmane’s words clung to her like burrs.
Aurora.
She tried to picture her mother’s face—really picture it—but her mind snagged on fog. The memory that surfaced was always the same: a mare with long, iridescent hair that caught the light like water. Beautiful, yes. But wrong. Too polished. Too perfect. As though lifted from a painting instead of lived experience.
Not her voice.
Not her laugh.
Not the warmth of a touch.
Nothing real.
Just that shimmer of hair.
Her father never spoke of her. Not once. Whenever Celeste asked, he would shut the door on the subject like it was dangerous. She had clung to the one name she’d been told—Willow—like a child clutching a ragged toy.
But was it even her name?
Or just another story to keep her quiet?
The memories didn’t feel like hers. They felt borrowed. Like she was watching a video of someone else’s life and trying to believe it was her own.
She bit her lip, her eyes burning faintly.
If Aurora was not her mother, why did Brassmane see her in Celeste’s face?
And if Willow was her mother… why did Celeste remember nothing but a fragment, a shimmer of hair in the dark?
The metallic echo of Celeste’s footsteps followed her up the spiral staircase, the heat of the foundry below still lingering in the folds of her hoodie-dress. At the top, where the noise of industry softened into idle murmurs, she paused.
A soft voice caught her ear.
Down the long corridor ahead, two figures stood in quiet conversation—Dex and Saff. Saff leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, a copper-toned braid swinging over one shoulder. Her red eyes gleamed, framed by the flash of gold in her armour.
The second Celeste stepped closer, their voices cut off.
Saff pushed off the wall with casual swagger. “Well, look who finally showed up. Starlight hoodie and all. Gotta say, kitten—it suits you. Bit flashy, but hey, own it.”
Celeste blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—um, thanks? I… wasn’t really trying to be flashy. It just… glows sometimes.”
Saff smirked. “Yeah, no kidding. Heard about your little starburst in the trial. Half the camp’s still talking about it. Can’t decide if you’re a miracle or a bomb waiting to go off.”
Celeste hugged her elbows. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened. I don’t always—”
“Control it?” Saff cut in, raising a brow. “Yeah. Shocker. That’s kind of my point.”
Dex shifted behind her, quieter than Saff, watching Celeste with a guarded expression.
Saff stepped closer, lowering her voice, the weight behind it suddenly more serious. “You don’t have to run back to your duct-taped clubhouse. You’ve got mythic blood in you—anyone with half a brain can see it. You stay here? You get training. Control. Real power. Not whatever scraps the purebloods let you play with.”
Celeste bit her lip. “But… we already have a base. And Marzipan. I wouldn’t just leave her behind.”
Saff tilted her head. “Base? Please. That tree shack you’re squatting in? It’s one council raid away from rubble. Here, we’ve got defences. Magic. Infrastructure. You wouldn’t be protecting scraps—you’d be building something that lasts.”
Her gaze flicked down the hallway, toward where the others were being held. “Offer’s for Ray too, firebrand that she is. Both of you could walk away from the dead weight. The kids, the wannabes, the hangers-on. You matter. They don’t.”
Celeste’s ears flattened.
“They do matter,” she said quietly.
Saff leaned in toward her, voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Listen, kitten. Purebloods outnumber us a hundred to one, and they’ve got nothing holding them back anymore. They’ll come. No warning. No mercy. And when they do? This little hoodie squad of yours won’t survive a week.”
Celeste’s chest tightened. “But—my friends—”
“Yeah, yeah. You care about the kids, the strays, the helpless,” Saff said with a shrug. “Fine. Stay out there and watch them get torn apart when the storm hits. Or stay here, where you can actually protect them. Your power’s raw, Celeste. Dangerous, yeah—but dangerous is exactly what we need.”
Celeste’s fingers twisted at the hem of her hoodie. “I… I don’t know. It feels like—like you’re asking me to just give everything up.”
“I’m asking you not to waste what you’ve got,” Saff snapped.
Then she softened, almost smiling.
“Think about it. Hybrids and mythics, standing together? We rewrite the rules. We stop living scared. We stop being prey. That future only happens if you step up.”
Celeste didn’t answer.
Her throat felt too tight.
Dex glanced between them, then followed as Saff turned sharply, braid snapping over her shoulder as she walked away.
“No pressure, kitten,” Saff called back. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Celeste stood alone in the corridor for a moment, her heart thudding hard.
Then she returned to the others.
The guards let her through without a word. The moment the cell door opened, Lumina ran to her and wrapped both arms around her waist.
“Celeste!” Lumina sobbed.
Celeste hugged her back at once, burying her nose against the top of her sister’s head. “I’m here. I’m alright. I’m sorry.”
Ray stood from the bench.
Her face was tight, her eyes sharp with too many feelings and not enough patience.
“What were you thinking?” Ray snapped.
Celeste flinched. “I—”
“You embarrassed us.”
Pitch lifted a finger from where he leaned against the wall. “Think she means embarrassed her.”
Ray rounded on him. “It doesn’t matter!”
“It matters a little,” Pitch muttered.
Ray turned back to Celeste. “This was an easy task. Easy. We pass the trial, we show we’re not idiots, maybe we all join the clan or at least get help. But no. You had to go all crazy as usual.”
Celeste’s ears pinned back.
Ray kept going, voice rising. “And let me guess—you don’t remember anything. Convenient.”
Celeste swallowed, hugging Lumina closer. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what this is. I really don’t.”
Ray stared at her.
For a moment, her anger cracked enough for the fear underneath to show.
Then she sat heavily on the bench, elbows on her knees.
“They’re never going to take me back now.”
The cell quieted.
Arcade looked at her, frowning. “If you like them so much, why did you leave?”
Ray’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t want to do my trial. So I got a job in Clawdiff. With Zygurr.”
Hughes, who had been sitting with one hand pressed against his bandaged side, gave a humourless huff.
“That’s ironic.”
Ray’s head snapped toward him. “What is?”
Hughes looked at her steadily. “You go on at Celeste like she’s got something to do with everything, yet you worked with Zygurr. The very company that handed out the candy.”
Ray shot to her feet. “I didn’t know that!”
“Didn’t say you did.”
“You’re acting like I caused this!”
“I’m saying maybe you’re compensating.”
Ray’s face flashed with fury. “I am not.”
Hughes didn’t blink. “Aren’t you?”
Ray opened her mouth, then closed it again, breathing hard.
Mezzo pushed away from the bars with a tired sigh. “Right. Lovely. Excellent family bonding. Can we have the emotional knife fight later?” He looked at Celeste, his voice gentler. “What does Brassmane want, princess?”
Celeste’s paws tightened around Lumina’s shoulders.
“He wants us to kill a very big, scary zombie,” she said. “Because they can’t seem to kill it.”
Pitch tilted his head. “Easy. What’s the catch?”
Celeste looked down.
“It’s like a general,” she said softly. “But it isn’t.”
That made everyone still.
Plum’s ears slowly rose. “That will be newsworthy.”
Arcade stared at her. “Read the room.”
“I am. The room is horrifying.”
Arcade turned back to Celeste. “We don’t have to do this. We can go back to the tree.”
Ray looked up sharply.
Hughes shook his head. “We need their help to find out what our powers do. We’d be idiots to walk away.”
Arcade raised both paws. “I’m just giving options. We already killed a Golem. Now they’re making us kill a zombie. I feel like they’re taking the piss now.”
Pitch nodded. “Feels a mite like doing chores for people who locked us in a basement.”
“They’re scared,” Celeste said quietly.
Ray scoffed. “So are we.”
Celeste hesitated, still holding Lumina close.
“There’s… something else,” she said quietly.
Ray looked up from the bench, still tense. “What?”
Celeste’s ears twitched. “Saff spoke to me in the corridor. She said Ray and I could stay here. Join the mythics. She said we’d be safer. Protected from the council.”
Ray gave a bitter little laugh. “Yeah. That sounds like her.”
Celeste blinked. “It does?”
“Saff always did have a habit of saying the thing you already wanted to hear.” Ray leaned back against the wall, arms folded. “And for once, I still think she’s right. At least here we’d have walls, wards, fighters. The council couldn’t just march in and slap collars on us.”
Hughes lifted his head.
“You ever hear of the Vanished Settlement of Glasvale?”
Ray frowned. “No.”
Hughes gave a humourless laugh. “Then that’s your answer.”
The cell went still.
Plum’s ears tilted forward. “I’ve heard rumours of that.”
“Aye,” Hughes said grimly. “Rumours are all that’s left. Whole settlement. Gone. Not burned down. Not abandoned. Gone. Records wiped, maps changed, families told their kin never existed. That wasn’t the first, and it wasn’t the last. Villages across Caerfaen. Some across Prydain too.”
Ray’s expression tightened.
Hughes looked at her steadily. “If the council wants you, they’ll find you. Mythic wards or no mythic wards. And if they can’t take you quietly, they’ll erase the place that sheltered you and pretend it was never there.”
Celeste’s arms tightened around Lumina.
Ray’s voice came cold. “So what? We run? Hide? Keep our heads down and hope the big scary council forgets we exist?”
“For now?” Hughes said. “Yes. We keep to ourselves until things blow over enough to move smart.”
Ray stood sharply. “That’s cowardice.”
Hughes didn’t flinch.
“No,” he said. “That’s remembering there are innocent people standing behind us.”
Ray’s jaw worked.
Hughes’s voice hardened, not loud, but heavy. “Think about the folk here. The children in that market. The runaways. The ones who came here because they had nowhere else. If the council takes a proper interest in us, they won’t just come for you. They’ll burn through everyone nearby to get what they want.”
Ray looked away.
“You’re more than just yourself now, Ray,” Hughes said. “Whether you like it or not.”
Pitch shifted against the wall, his usual humour dimmed to something softer. “Where I’m from, you don’t set the barn on fire just ’cause there’s a snake in the hay. You get the folk out first, then deal with the snake.”
Arcade stared at him. “That one actually made sense.”
Pitch shrugged. “I have moments.”
Ray said nothing.
But her fists slowly unclenched.
Celeste looked between them, voice small. “So… staying here might not protect us.”
Hughes shook his head. “No, lass. It might protect you for a night. Maybe a week. But safe?” His gaze moved toward the barred door. “No one’s safe. Not here. Not while the council still thinks it owns the world.”
Plum swallowed, her notebook forgotten in her lap.
For once, she didn’t write a single word.
Hughes sighed, then turned toward the guard waiting beyond the bars.
“Tell Brassmane we’ll kill it.”
The werewolf guard studied them for a moment.
Then he nodded and walked away.
Skye looked up, fingers curled tightly around the edge of his sleeve. “You want to help them?”
Hughes glanced back at him. His expression softened.
“Aye,” he said. “If we leave a good impression, they’ll help us. Maybe give us parts. Maybe look at our mana and tell us whether we’re about to blow ourselves up.” He gave a dry little shrug. “Either way, it’s a better result than sitting here doing nothing.”
Skye frowned thoughtfully.
Hughes scratched his beard, then added, “Besides, I remember someone saying we need… what do you youngsters call it?”
He paused, searching for the word with grave seriousness.
“EXP.”
Mezzo slowly turned to Celeste, eyes shining with theatrical pride.
He leaned in and whispered, “I’m so proud. He’s learning.”
Hughes bopped him lightly on the head without looking.
“I’m not that old, pup.”
Mezzo rubbed his head, wounded. “That was ageist.”
“That was accurate.”
Lumina clung tighter to Celeste, though a tiny smile flickered through her tears.
Mezzo rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the dark corridor.
“Well,” he muttered, “who’s ready for round two of absolutely terrible decisions?”
Pitch gave him a thin smile. “Ain’t ready. Just present.”
Celeste looked toward the corridor where the vault waited beneath them.
Somewhere far below, something once alive stirred in chains.
And she had no idea whether she was walking toward a monster…
…or a warning.
