The silence had become its own kind of torment.

Hours trapped in a disabled bathroom with barely any light and far too much nervous breathing had stripped everyone down to their rawest selves. The only sounds now were the occasional knocks on the door—soft, erratic, always just long enough to spike the anxiety again—and the faint electronic hiss of Arcade trying very hard not to lose his mind.

He was crouched against the far wall with his knees up, glaring at a comms crystal in one paw. Its face flashed weakly, trying and failing to connect, throwing up broken message fragments and buffering sigils before dying again. With a frustrated sound through his teeth, he shoved it into his pocket.

“Useless,” he muttered.

Then he checked the device on his wrist.

Mezzo’s ears perked at once.

“Hold on—” He leaned forward, eyes widening. “Is that an arcbracer?”

Even Ray looked up.

The sleek metal bracer wrapped around Arcade’s forearm glowed faintly blue at the seams, its surface scratched but very much functional. Tiny runic icons flickered across the display.

“Only purebloods get those,” Mezzo said, scandalised. “You can’t just be sittin’ there with one like it’s no big deal!”

Arcade didn’t even look up. “Found it. Fixed it. Improved it, actually.”

Mezzo stared. “You found an arcbracer?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re wearin’ it?”

“Yes.”

“And nobody’s arrested you?”

Arcade finally glanced up, unimpressed. “Do try to keep pace. I was sent to the Gifted Hybrids Program. Pet projects, experimental schooling, all that delightful nonsense. I’ve been around council tech before.”

Mezzo barked a laugh, the sound half disbelief and half delight. “What are you, thirteen, shorty?”

Arcade’s face flattened at once.

“Sixteen, actually.”

That only made Mezzo grin wider. “That’s somehow worse.”

“Touch me and I’ll rewire your kneecaps.”

Skye, curled beside the sink with Lumina tucked near him, gave the faintest snort into his scarf.

Arcade ignored them all and flicked his fingers across the arcbracer interface. The display brightened, then unfolded into a hovering pane of fractured footage. Apparently it had cached clips from outside before the signal died.

Everyone leaned in despite themselves.

The first clips were shaky, stolen glimpses from public feeds and panic recordings—Clawdiff’s Victorian towers rising into the pinkish sky, wrought-iron bridges and cathedral roofs lit by emergency lamps, smoke coiling between the spires. Another showed the riverfront flashing with blue light. Another: streets choked with fleeing civilians and police barricades.

Then one clip caught.

Something huge moved in the distance.

Not fully visible. Just a shape beyond the rooftops—too large, too winged, too wrong.

A dragon.

Even in the broken footage it was unmistakable.

Celeste’s breath caught.

“No…”

Another clip flickered up right after it—ten hybrid figures moving across a rooftop line like sparks in a storm, fighting something enormous off-screen. Mana bursts lit the edges of the frame. One of them moved in a way that made Celeste’s heart jump hard enough to hurt.

Dad.

Or maybe not. Maybe only someone broad-shouldered enough, fast enough, familiar enough to make her hope where she shouldn’t.

Arcade narrowed his eyes, swiping through the chaos. “Looks like the military was busy outside.”

Celeste leaned closer without meaning to, staring at the figures as if she could pull one out by force of will alone.

Then the footage spasmed white.

A mana EMP burst rolled across the skyline in a silent blue ring.

Every clip jittered.

Far beyond the city centre, the ward barriers around the council zones flared to life one after another—great shimmering domes and walls of pale mana snapping into place around the royal quarter like the city was sealing its heart off from the rest of itself.

The feed crackled.

One video disappeared.

Then another.

Then another.

They did not simply cut out.

They were being deleted.

One by one the saved clips vanished from the display, replaced by empty boxes and corrupted icons. Live feeds dropped. Message threads died. Search strings returned nothing. Then the arcbracer gave a final unhappy pulse and the whole interface was overwritten with one cold line:

CONNECTION ERROR

Arcade stared at it in livid disbelief.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

He jabbed furiously at the controls. Nothing.

“They’re scrubbing it,” he snapped. “Deleting everything. Typical council.”

Mezzo made a strangled noise and immediately slapped both paws over Arcade’s mouth.

“Don’t say that so loud! They hear everything!”

Arcade glared at him over his fingers, muffled and furious.

“Mmff let go or I’ll bite you.”

Mezzo removed his paws at once. “Right, yes, fair.”

For a moment nobody said anything.

The dead signal glowed dimly on Arcade’s wrist.

Outside the bathroom, somewhere far beyond tile and metal and bad fluorescent lights, the city of Clawdiff was still tearing itself apart—and now even the proof of it was being swallowed.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Then the knocking started again.

Soft.

Erratic.

Always just long enough to make every nerve in the room flinch.

“Alright,” Mezzo muttered, tail twitching. “That’s it. If this is another prank knock, I swear…”

He gently cracked the door open.

Everyone leaned in.

Nothing.

“I think it’s gone—” he started loudly.

Pitch, Ray, and Arcade all lunged at once to slam the door shut and press a paw or claw over Mezzo’s muzzle.

“Don’t yell, numbskull!” Ray hissed.

Mezzo, eyes wide and confused, nodded under their hands.

“Boared,” he mumbled once released, ruffling his hair. The black dye had mostly bled away, revealing a brilliant spiky red mop underneath.

He blinked down at his paws, now stained.

“Ack! What is this—?” He smudged it across his face, completely unaware.

Skye snorted first—his little laugh bubbling out, unexpected and soft. Arcade chuckled, then Celeste let slip a tiny giggle too. Even Lumina gave a quiet snort.

“What?” Mezzo asked, eyes wide and innocent. “Why are you all laughing?”

Ray shook her head, smirking. “You look like a melted popsicle with anger issues.”

Mezzo blinked. “…That’s oddly specific.”

He rubbed at the streaks again, then hesitated. His voice dropped, a little quieter.

“I’m a hybrid,” he admitted. “Been dying it darker so I don’t stand out as much for gigs. Pureblood venues don’t exactly welcome flame-drenched dalmatians.” He gave a weak grin. “I mean, yeah, I look fabulous—but, y’know. Gotta eat.”

There was a beat of silence—just long enough to feel the weight under the joke.

Arcade finally nodded, voice dry but sincere. “Yeah. We know the feeling.”

Skye gave a small nod too, gaze lowered.

Celeste shifted, her voice gentle but almost shy. “Mhm. We… we really do.”

Pitch tilted his head, tone edged with quiet curiosity. “I’m guessing you got your features removed too?”

Mezzo blinked, then sighed. “Yeah. When I was a baby. Guess that’s normal these days.” He gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m part gryphon. Really would’ve loved to keep the wings, but… the Council and the purebloods don’t like it when we don’t look too much like them. Gotta fit in. God forbid we look different.”

The heaviness lingered for a moment before Mezzo straightened, shaking it off with a grin. “But hey—so we’re all hybrids? That’s awesome! A full team of magical mutts!”

And Ray immediately slammed it back down.

“Try not to make a scene, idiot,” she hissed. “Some purebloods might be within earshot.”

Mezzo winced. “Right. Sorry. Whisper celebration. Go team mutts.”

Arcade stood up and dusted off his coat with a theatrical sigh. “Alright, we’ve now spent longer in this bathroom together than anyone should in a lifetime. I vote we at least learn each other’s names before we go stir-crazy and form a toilet cult.”

“Me first!” Mezzo perked up.

Ray groaned. “Of course you’d be excited.”

“Name’s Mezzo Swift,” he beamed. “Security officer, guitar enthusiast, licensed driver, and technically a professional adult. I once arrested a guy for smuggling ferret plushies.”

“Impressive,” Arcade said flatly. “And deeply disturbing.”

Before Mezzo could say more, Ray rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m Ray Tanllwyth. I work for Zygurr. Or did. As soon as there’s a clear path, I’m out of here.”

There was a small shuffle of movement as Celeste stepped forward next, adjusting the bag draped over her shoulders. Lumina clung tightly to her leg, half-hidden, peeking out with wide pink eyes.

“I-I’m Celeste Astallan… and this is my little sister, Lumina.”

Lumina peeked out. “H-hello. It’s… it’s lovely to meet you.”

There was a pause.

Even Arcade raised an eyebrow.

Mezzo leaned forward, grinning. “Well pardon me, your highness! Should we be bowing, or do you prefer curtsies?”

Lumina squeaked, flushed pink, and buried her face in Celeste’s cloak.
Celeste gave Mezzo a flat look, though her lips twitched upward. “She’s just shy. And we were raised a bit… formal.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Princess,” Mezzo laughed. “She sounds like she’s about to offer me tea and threaten war with my people in the same sentence.”

“Stop bullying the child,” Pitch muttered.

“I’m not! I’m appreciating her!” Mezzo grinned. “Big difference.”

Arcade cut through smoothly. “Arcade Davies. Engineer, hacker, genius. Try to keep up.” He gestured vaguely at Skye. “That’s Skye Emilio. Cousin. Don’t ask how.”

Mezzo squinted. “Fennec and hedgehog cousins? Yeah, that math isn’t mathing.”

Arcade didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a complicated family tree. And also none of your business.”

“Ooh, mysterious,” Mezzo drawled. “Let me guess—interdimensional adoptions, ancient fennec blood curse, or swapped in the nursery by an angry witch?”

Skye gave a tiny smile from behind his scarf. “Closer to option three than you’d think.”

“Witch it is,” Mezzo nodded solemnly.

Celeste chuckled, her hand resting protectively on Lumina’s shoulder. For a brief moment, the room felt warm again.

Pitch stood, calm and collected. “Name’s Pitch. Pitch E. Blak. Survivalist, guide, and… big brother. I’ve got a kid brother I need to get back to outside the city. But I’ll help as long as I can.”

Mezzo tilted his head. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”

Mezzo gasped. “Ancient!”

Pitch gave him a slow blink. “Watch it, pup.”

“Not a pup,” Mezzo retorted, puffing out his chest. “I’m an adult pup. With adult money.”

Arcade raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How much money?”

Mezzo paused. “…None. Technically. Yet.”

Celeste laughed softly, and without thinking, pulled half a pound coin from her coat. “Here. But only if you perform that guitar solo you kept shouting about.”

Mezzo took the coin like it was treasure. “You remembered?” he gasped. “Finally! Validation! At last I am seen!”

He struck a dramatic pose. “Ladies and gentlemen, the show must go on! Coming soon to a bathroom near you—Mezzo, the financially independent rock sensation of Clawdiff Con!”

Skye clapped softly, smiling. “I like music. Helps quiet the noise. Except when it doesn’t.”

Ray groaned. “That’s it. I’m done. Not dying in a toilet cubicle next to a karaoke puppy.”

She yanked the door open—

And froze.

A small figure stood in the flickering corridor.

It stopped.

Turned.

Bolted straight at them.

“NOPE!” Ray slammed the door shut again.

Knocking resumed—sharp, deliberate, almost playful.

Mezzo whimpered, burying his face in his paws. “WHY WON’T IT LEAVE US ALONE?!”

Celeste tilted her head, brow knitting. “Wait… if it’s knocking… then maybe it’s not like the others.”

All eyes went to her.

Pitch rumbled, “Go on.”

Celeste bit her lip. “It hasn’t attacked. It keeps… trying the doors. Like it remembers. Like… it’s aware.”

Ray frowned. “You’re saying it’s smart?”

Celeste hesitated. “…Or just not gone all the way.” She hugged her sleeves tighter. “I hope they have something in their brains, you know? Maybe we can cure them.”

Arcade gave her a side look. “Celeste… what happened to your friend?”

Her throat tightened. “She started bleeding blue from her eyes. Then she tried to bite me. She asked for help but—” Celeste’s voice cracked, and she shook her head. “—but I was attacked by another. A… well, monster. Ill person. I have no idea what to call them.”

“Zombies?” Mezzo offered, his fur bristling.

Celeste winced. “Oh dear, I hope not. But… anyway, I hope she’s okay.”

Arcade crossed his arms. “Chances aren’t good. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Celeste’s voice softened. “I’m just being optimistic.”

Arcade stared at the door. “Either way, it’s something new.”

Outside, the knocking stopped.

And this time… it didn’t come back.