The hallway outside Silver’s quarters was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made every small movement feel enormous.
Celeste stood there for the third time in the last five minutes… doing absolutely nothing useful.
In her hands was a small folded note.
She unfolded it.
Looked at it.
Then folded it again.
Then unfolded it again.
The paper had already begun to soften at the creases from how many times she’d opened it.
Her handwriting stared back at her.
I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to—
Celeste groaned softly.
“Oh stars…”
She crumpled the note halfway.
Then quickly smoothed it again.
That sounded terrible.
She paced the hallway again.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Her boots tapped softly against the wood floor of the Egg Tree corridor, the sound echoing faintly in the hollow trunk.
The pumpkin lanterns hanging along the walls flickered gently, casting warm cinnamon-colored light across the carved bark.
Celeste unfolded the note again.
Read it.
Then frowned.
“…Maybe I should add something else.”
She pulled out a small pen.
Wrote one word.
Then immediately scratched it out.
“Too formal.”
Another line.
Scratched out again.
“Too weird.”
She stared at the paper helplessly.
Her mind began inventing scenarios.
Ridiculous ones.
She imagined Silver opening the door and immediately incinerating the letter with dragonfire.
Or worse—
Reading it.
Looking up slowly.
And saying in that calm, aristocratic voice:
“Apology rejected.”
Her ears drooped.
Another mental image appeared.
Silver storming out of the room dramatically.
“YOU MADE ME KNEEL, CELESTE.”
She winced.
“…Okay that one might actually happen.”
Her tail flicked anxiously behind her.
Another scenario.
Silver bringing the letter to the council.
“Behold,” he would say. “Written evidence of hybrid incompetence.”
Celeste groaned again and buried her face in her hands.
“Oh stars…”
She paced again.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Her mind replayed the moment over and over.
You are unworthy to command me. Prove to me you deserve my notice.
Celeste’s shoulders sank.
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
She looked down at the note again.
“What was I supposed to say?”
She muttered quietly.
“Sorry I accidentally triggered ancient dragon dominance and forced you to kneel?”
She grimaced.
“That sounds even worse out loud.”
Her ears drooped further.
“What if he never forgives me…”
Celeste stopped outside his door.
She stared at it for a long moment.
Raised her hand.
Then lowered it again.
“…maybe I should just give him space.”
A low sound came from inside.
Not words.
Not exactly.
A rough scrape.
Wood splintering.
Celeste froze.
Her ears lifted.
“…Silver?”
No answer.
Another scrape came from inside the room.
Deeper this time.
Followed by a low, rumbling sound that made the scales beneath Celeste’s skin prickle.
She should have walked away.
She really should have walked away.
Instead, very carefully—
very guiltily—
Celeste leaned down and peeked through the keyhole.
Silver stood in the middle of the room with his rune out.
Celeste forgot how to breathe.
His wings filled the space behind him, vast and glowing, constellation runes burning across the membranes like starlight caught in glass. Golden scales shimmered along his face, throat, shoulders, and chest, brighter and sharper than she had ever seen them. His horns were longer too, catching the lantern light in elegant curves that made something deep inside her core sit up and pay attention.
But beneath the dragonfire and all that impossible light, he was still unmistakably Silver.
The fluffy silver-shaded Maine Coon fur across his chest was white with soft grey tips, ruffled slightly from where he had torn his shirt open. It caught the glow from his wings in pale, moonlit edges.
His rune was out. That was bad. Very bad. He was untrained. She should get someone—
Oh.
Oh no.
Her own scales flickered along her collarbone.
Then her arms.
Then her neck.
A soft, involuntary purr slipped out of her before she could stop it.
Her tail swished once across the floor.
Slow.
Delighted.
Like someone had placed a very beautiful sweet directly in front of her and expected her not to stare.
Silver’s head snapped toward the door.
His eyes flashed in the cracked mirror.
Draconic.
Bright.
Gorgeous.
Celeste stumbled backwards from the door, both hands clamped over her mouth.
No.
Absolutely not.
Bad Celeste.
Terrible Celeste.
She backed into the opposite wall, cheeks burning so hot she was fairly sure she was about to steam.
“Get it together,” she whispered into her hands.
Her tail swished again.
She grabbed it.
“Oh stars.”
Her ears flattened.
“Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars.”
She stood there in the corridor, mortified, sparkling faintly, and deeply betrayed by her own biology.
Inside the room, something shifted.
Celeste squeaked.
Then spun away from the door so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet.
Right as she turned—
Topsy bounced around the corner.
“CECE!”
Celeste jumped slightly.
“Oh! Hi Topsy.”
Topsy slowed down immediately when she noticed Celeste’s expression.
Her eyes narrowed.
“…you look like someone stole your cookies.”
Celeste tried to smile.
“I’m fine.”
Topsy squinted harder.
“You’re doing the fake smile.”
Celeste rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
“It’s nothing.”
Topsy leaned closer.
“What happened?”
Celeste hesitated.
“…just… a disagreement.”
Topsy tilted her head.
“With who?”
Celeste gestured vaguely behind her.
“…Silver.”
Topsy’s eyes widened dramatically.
“Oooooh.”
Celeste groaned again.
“Please don’t make that noise.”
Topsy held up her hands.
“I’m not judging!”
Then she suddenly snapped her fingers.
“Oh right!”
She pointed down the hall.
“Council message.”
Celeste blinked.
“…already?”
Topsy nodded.
“Arcbracer ping. Hughes said everyone needs to hear it.”
Celeste sighed.
“Of course they do.”
Topsy gently nudged her shoulder.
“Come on.”
Celeste nodded slowly.
“Yeah… okay.”
She took one last look at Silver’s door.
Still closed.
Still silent.
Her guilt twisted deeper in her chest.
“…wait a second.”
She quickly reached into her pocket.
Pulled out the folded note.
She hesitated.
Then crouched slightly and slid it under the door.
The little paper disappeared into the shadow beneath the frame.
Topsy leaned down trying to peek.
“Ooo what’s that?”
Celeste stood up quickly.
“Nothing!”
Topsy grinned immediately.
“That’s definitely something.”
Celeste awkwardly grabbed Topsy’s arm.
“Come on! Council message!”
Celeste followed Topsy down the corridor toward the Cookie Room.
The closer they got, the louder the noise outside became.
Shouting.
Arguing.
Angry voices echoing from the courtyard beyond the walls.
Hybrids.
Thousands of them.
Hungry. Frightened. Exhausted.
Celeste slowed near the doors.
She could hear fragments through the stone.
“They promised help!”
“We left the city center for them!”
“My children haven’t eaten!”
“What are we supposed to do now?!”
Her chest tightened.
Topsy noticed her hesitation.
“…Cece?”
Celeste took a breath and pushed the doors open.
The Cookie Room was the largest chamber in the base.
At the center sat a massive round table carved to look like a gigantic cookie. Above it hovered a holographic map of Clawdiff made from sugar, glowing softly in warm amber light. Rivers of syrup-like light marked zombie routes. Tiny sugar-crystal towers marked the city.
Clawdiff center shimmered brightest.
Around the table stood the Knights.
Ray leaned against the map console, arms folded.
Mezzo sat backwards on a chair strumming quietly on his guitar.
Arcade typed furiously on a holo-panel while Chip floated beside him.
Skye stood near Hughes nervously shuffling his card deck.
Lumina stood silently near the far wall.
Pitch leaned in shadow beside a column.
Bonbon sat on the table swinging her legs.
When Celeste walked in, everyone looked up.
Hughes stepped forward.
“Commander.”
Celeste nodded.
“Report please?”
Hughes gestured toward the map.
“The refugee situation.”
The hologram shifted.
Dots began appearing across Clawdiff.
Hundreds.
Then thousands.
“They’re gathering around the park.”
Another cluster appeared.
“And outside the council district.”
Another.
“And here.”
Celeste frowned.
“Oh dear. That many?”
Hughes nodded grimly.
“More arriving every hour.”
Ray pushed herself upright.
“They’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Arcade added without looking up.
“The council isn’t sending aid.”
Celeste blinked.
“…what?”
Arcade finally glanced at her.
“They’re focusing resources on pureblood shelters and military recovery.”
Ray scoffed.
“Big surprise.”
Mezzo muttered.
“Shocker of the century.”
Hughes spoke again, calm but firm.
“The refugees need stability.”
“Food.”
“Shelter.”
“Security.”
He looked directly at Celeste.
“And they need it fast.”
Outside the building—
The shouting grew louder.
Someone slammed against the outer gate.
The sound echoed through the stone walls.
Celeste stood at the head of the table.
Looking at the map.
Looking at the growing clusters of desperate people.
She swallowed slightly.
“I…”
Celeste paced around the glowing sugar-map.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The map flickered with refugee clusters spreading across Clawdiff like storm clouds.
Arcade spoke first.
“We still have the capsules from Marzipan.”
Everyone looked at him.
Arcade shrugged.
“Not many.”
“But we could use some.”
Ray immediately shook her head.
“We keep that quiet.”
Arcade frowned.
“Why?”
Ray leaned forward.
“Because if the council finds out we have them…”
“…they’ll take them.”
The room went quiet.
Arcade muttered,
“…fair point.”
He tapped the hologram again.
“Besides, the mana around them is fading anyway.”
Hughes folded his arms.
“The Warrens are overwhelmed.”
The map shifted again.
Red marks bloomed across the underground tunnels.
“Zombies have pushed them out.”
“They’re fleeing in droves.”
He pointed to the glowing dome surrounding Clawdiff.
“And with the dome up…”
“No imports.”
Celeste rubbed her temples.
Pitch spoke from the shadows.
“We can’t crack the dome.”
Topsy raised a finger.
“And the supplies we borrowed—”
Ray corrected.
“Stole.”
Topsy continued cheerfully.
“—are not going to last long-term.”
Celeste ran her fingers through her hair.
“What if we take the generals down quickly?”
Everyone looked at her.
She kept going.
“Like—”
“…sneaky assassin type.”
“As fast as possible.”
Hughes shook his head slowly.
“Even if we succeed…”
He looked toward the window where the winter winds howled outside.
“Winter is coming.”
“We won’t have time to grow crops.”
Arcade added grimly,
“Not without a lot of help.”
Celeste stared at the map.
Thinking.
Thinking.
Then Plum’s voice crackled over the comm.
“Maybe we send messages to other survivors?”
“Share what we have.”
“Ask the mythics for support.”
Ray shook her head immediately.
“It won’t help.”
“They’re barely holding on themselves.”
Celeste’s arcbracer suddenly exploded with messages.
Alerts.
Requests.
Distress calls.
Hybrid communities begging for help.
Food shortages.
Medical emergencies.
Shelters collapsing.
Her screen flooded with notifications.
Before she could process them—
The door burst open.
Bracer rushed in, breathing hard.
“They’re rioting outside.”
Everyone froze.
“The refugees.”
“They’re breaking through the outer gates.”
The room fell silent.
Celeste stared at the map.
At the thousands of glowing dots representing lives depending on her.
The chair at the head of the table looked suddenly enormous.
She slowly sat down in it.
Her hands trembled.
Her breathing sped up.
“I—”
Her voice shook.
“I can’t—”
She tried to steady herself.
Tried to copy the calm breathing Silver had once shown her.
Slow inhale.
Slow exhale.
But it wasn’t working.
Her hands were shaking too much.
The room blurred slightly.
Under her breath she whispered,
“…stars I can’t do this.”
Mezzo immediately stood.
He walked around the table without hesitation.
Wrapped his arms around her tightly.
Holding her like a shield against the storm.
“Hey.”
His voice softened.
“Hey, Cece.”
He gently pulled her against his chest.
“You’re not doing this alone.”
Celeste shook in Mezzo’s arms.
“I can’t do this, Mez…”
Her voice cracked.
“I can’t help them all.”
She looked toward the doors where the shouting continued.
“And I want to.”
Mezzo gently held her face between his hands.
“Hey.”
He leaned down so she had to look at him.
“You can.”
She shook her head weakly.
“No I can’t.”
He grinned.
“I believe in that noggin of yours.”
He tapped her forehead lightly.
“You got us this far, yeah?”
Celeste blinked.
Then she really looked at him.
Saw the confidence.
The stubborn belief.
And despite everything—
A small smile slipped onto her face.
