A dozen mythics surged forward from the edge of the arena, their staffs striking the ground in perfect unison. Runes flared beneath their feet. Copper charms rattled. Antlers, horns, claws, and feathered hands lifted toward the team as a wave of mana crashed through the arena.
Celeste tried to step back.
Her body wouldn’t move.
Blue-gold light wrapped around her wrists, ankles, shoulders, and throat, locking her in place like invisible chains. Around her, the others froze too—Ray with one hand still half-raised toward Heartbreaker, Pitch twisted mid-step, Arcade reaching for C.H.I.P., Hughes clutching his wounded side, and Mezzo still kneeling where he had pushed Celeste’s rune back into place.
Lumina gasped.
Skye went rigid beside her.
“What—?” Arcade strained, sparks crackling weakly around his paws. “Oh, brilliant. Magical paralysis. Love that. Very hospitable.”
The mana tightened.
One by one, their weapons began to flicker.
Ray’s Heartbreaker dissolved first, phoenix embers scattering into nothing. Pitch’s Lady Luck vanished from his grip in a flutter of ghostly cards. Mezzo’s guitar-axe gave one offended twang before fading out against his chest.
Celeste’s katanas shimmered in her hands, starlight trembling along their edges.
Then they vanished too.
Arcade’s eyes widened. “No—wait, C.H.I.P.!”
C.H.I.P., still hovering beside him, sparked as the freezing mana crawled across his frame.
“Statement: this is deeply—”
He disappeared in a tiny burst of static.
Arcade stared at the empty air.
“Rude,” he whispered.
Ray’s eyes blazed. “Brassmane.”
The elder in the red shawl stepped forward, her voice shaking but sharp as broken glass.
“Rhowch nhw yn y celloedd,” she said in Welsh. “Bydd yn cadw eu hud dan reolaeth, ac ni fyddant yn dianc. Mae angen inni drafod hyn, Brassmane.”
Put them in the cells. It will keep their magic under control, and they will not escape. We need to discuss this, Brassmane.
More elders murmured agreement.
Celeste’s ears flattened. “Cells?”
Ray snarled through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare.”
But the mana held her still.
Brassmane looked between the group, his gaze lingering longest on Celeste. For a moment, something like regret crossed his face.
Then it was gone.
“They are to be restrained,” he said. “For their safety, and ours, until we know what to do next.”
Hughes’s jaw tightened. “Brassmane, these are children.”
Brassmane’s eyes moved to Lumina and Skye.
“I know.”
That made it worse.
The barrier dropped, and the mythics closed in. They didn’t drag them roughly, not exactly, but the mana did most of the work. It pulled them upright and guided them forward while their own bodies refused to obey.
Ray fought every inch of it.
Her muscles trembled. Her teeth bared. Phoenix embers spat weakly around her shoulders, but the anti-mana bindings swallowed them before they could catch.
“You better hope this wears off before I get near you,” she hissed.
No one answered.
Celeste was taken separately.
She saw it the moment the path split.
Ray, Pitch, Arcade, Hughes, Mezzo, Plum, Lumina, and Skye were pushed toward one corridor beneath the old factory. Celeste was steered down another.
“No,” Lumina cried. “No! Celeste!”
Celeste tried to turn. “Lumina, it’s alright—”
The mana around her throat tightened, but she forced the words out anyway, voice cracking.
“I’m sorry!” she shouted toward them. “I’m so sorry!”
Mezzo gripped the bars as they passed, his face pale but gentle. “It’s alright, princess. You did your best. Your rune’s probably being a dick.”
Celeste gave a tiny, broken laugh that sounded more like a sob.
Then Ray reached the bars of the first cell just as Celeste was moved past. Her paws slammed against the metal with a useless clang.
“Celeste!” Ray shouted.
Celeste looked over.
Ray’s eyes were bright with fury and fear, which somehow made her voice harsher.
“I’m going to kick your ass later, you hear me?”
Celeste flinched.
It was tiny.
Barely anything.
But Ray saw it.
And for half a second, regret flickered across her face before the mythics pulled Celeste farther away.
Then she was gone.
The cell door slammed shut behind the others.
The room they had been placed in was long and low, carved beneath the Rustrows from old storage chambers and reinforced with stone, copper, and black iron. Strange sigils had been etched into every wall. Anti-mana wards crawled across the floor like thorny vines, dull and grey, drinking in every spark of power before it could properly form.
Arcade tried to summon a crackle of electricity.
Nothing happened.
His ears drooped. “Oh, I hate this.”
Pitch leaned against the wall, breathing hard. “Well, ain’t this a peach of a day.”
Lumina rushed to the bars, tiny paws wrapping around them. “Put me with my sister! Please! I want Celeste! Let me out!”
Her voice cracked.
No one came.
“Celeste!” she screamed down the corridor. “Celeste!”
There was no answer.
Lumina’s lip trembled. Then the sobs came all at once, messy and frightened and far too young for a place like this.
Ray sat on the stone bench, jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. She watched Lumina cry for a few seconds, her own anger twisting sharper and sharper until it needed somewhere to go.
Then she stood.
She crossed the cell and grabbed Lumina by the arm.
Lumina froze.
Her eyes went wide with shock.
Ray’s voice came out low and fierce. “What is that freaky thing your sister does when her rune is loose?”
Lumina stared at her.
Ray’s grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to scare.
“And don’t lie.”
Lumina’s ears folded flat. “I—I don’t know.”
“Ray,” Hughes warned.
Ray didn’t look at him.
Lumina’s breathing hitched. “Please don’t shout at me.”
Then she started humming.
Softly at first.
A tiny, trembling melody under her breath. The same kind of nervous tune Bonbon sometimes made when the world became too loud.
Ray’s face hardened.
“Cut it out already,” she snapped. “That’s the second time she’s done that now. You lived with her. You must have seen it before.”
Lumina shook her head rapidly, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t! I didn’t see it! I have memory loss. And i talked to her. She doesn’t know anything either!”
Skye stepped forward, small but firm. “Ray, she doesn’t know.”
Ray rounded on him. “Stop defending her already. We need to know how dangerous it is.”
Down the hall, Mezzo gripped the bars and shouted, “Celeste! You okay?”
Silence answered.
His expression tightened.
“Celeste!”
Still nothing.
Hughes pushed himself upright with a wince, one paw pressed to the slash across his side. “Ray, stop frightening the poor girl. She doesn’t know anything.”
Ray spun on him. “And you do?”
“No,” Hughes said sharply. “But shaking answers out of a scared child won’t make us smarter.”
Ray’s nostrils flared.
Hughes pointed toward the walls. “The mythics are probably thinking about what our cores could be and how best to either stop them or use them. So unless you fancy proving their worst fears right, stop being so paranoid.”
Ray laughed once, harsh and humourless. “I’m the only one thinking straight.”
She turned to Pitch and Arcade. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Arcade looked miserable.
No one liked it when Arcade looked miserable. It meant things were usually worse than expected.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think Celeste is trying to hurt anyone.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed.
“But,” Arcade continued, voice quieter, “if her rune keeps slipping, and every slip causes a bigger surge… then maybe it isn’t just suppressing her. Maybe it’s holding something in. And if it breaks properly…”
He swallowed.
“She might not explode exactly, but whatever happens probably won’t be good.”
Lumina sobbed harder.
Skye moved closer to her, shoulder touching hers.
Pitch pushed away from the wall, his expression unusually serious. “I don’t think she’s dangerous.”
Ray scoffed. “Pitch—”
“No, I mean it.” He tipped his head, searching for the words. “That girl’s about as harmless as a candle in a thunderstorm. Pretty light, bad sense of direction, somehow still liable to burn the curtains if nobody’s watchin’.”
Arcade blinked. “That was almost comforting.”
“Thank you.”
Ray dragged both paws down her face. “But what if she can’t control it? What if next time it’s not a golem? What if it’s one of us? And without her, we can’t kill zombies.”
Hughes looked toward the corridor where Celeste had vanished.
His voice dropped.
“Then we better hope we can.”
That silenced them.
Plum, who had been standing near the back of the cell with her notebook hugged to her chest, spoke softly for once.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” she said. “Her mana must be incredible.”
Mezzo didn’t answer right away.
He was still staring down the hall.
Then he said, “Her rune looks different from ours.”
Ray turned.
“What?”
Mezzo slowly looked back at them. “I didn’t say anything before because there was a giant murder statue trying to flatten us, and then everyone got very shouty, but… Celeste has a different rune.”
Ray’s eyes sharpened. “Different how?”
Mezzo made a helpless gesture. “Different different. Ours look like council junk, don’t they? Clinical. Ugly. Like someone designed oppression with a ruler.”
Arcade muttered, “Accurate.”
Ray grabbed Lumina and turned her gently but abruptly so she could see the back of her neck. Lumina whimpered, but didn’t fight.
Ray looked.
Lumina’s rune sat there beneath the furline, faintly glowing.
Arcade leaned in too.
Mezzo frowned. “Hers looks like an advanced version of ours. Cleaner. Smaller. Still the same family of horrible little neck stamps.”
Ray let Lumina go.
Lumina immediately backed into Skye, shaking.
Mezzo’s face darkened.
“Celeste’s isn’t like that.”
“How?” Hughes asked.
Mezzo’s mouth twisted as he searched for the right comparison.
“It looked…” He waved both hands vaguely. “Ancient. Like if a church window, a curse, and a dead king’s jewellery had a baby.”
Pitch stared at him.
“That may be the most Irish thing you’ve ever said.”
“It had layers,” Mezzo insisted. “Symbols under symbols. Not just a suppression mark. More like… something old copied badly by people who didn’t understand what they were stealing.”
Arcade went very still.
“That’s worse,” he said.
“Yes,” Mezzo said. “I gathered.”
Hughes lowered himself heavily onto the bench, his face grim.
“We’ve got a lot of questions for Celeste,” he said.
Lumina sniffled. “She won’t know.”
Hughes looked toward the dark corridor again.
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think she will.”
His paw tightened over his wound.
“But Kenaz…” Hughes’s voice turned harder. “If we ever meet him, I think we’ve got a lot of questions for him.”
