The last of the zombies smoldered into ash. Smoke drifted, the air sharp with iron and sugar.

The high-tech carriage door creaked open again. A figure stepped out—Lady Locket Revel. A yellow cocker spaniel, dressed in a red-laced Victorian gown, the hem and bodice streaked with zombie gore. She shook herself once, then drew up tall, eyes blazing as if the filth didn’t dare cling to her.

“Bow your heads,” she commanded, her voice sharp, imperious, dripping with dangerous velvet. “You stand before the Council.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Celeste hesitated, blades still in her hands. She drew a slow breath, about to speak—

“Did we give you permission to speak?” Lady Revel purred, snapping her fan open with a flick.

Celeste’s mouth closed. Confusion flickered in her eyes, but she lowered her head all the same. One by one, the others followed suit—though Mezzo muttered something under his breath that Ray silenced with a smack to his arm.

From the carriage, another figure descended with calm grace—a kingfisher priest. His plumage gleamed blue and amber beneath flowing river-embroidered robes, every step deliberate, patient. When he spoke, his voice was deep and warm, rich with age and kindness.

“Peace, children,” he said, wings folding neatly before him. “The Council’s decrees are firm, yes, but firm does not mean merciless. Even fire burns to protect the hearth.”

His gaze softened on Celeste, lingering. “And sometimes… even fire can be guided, if we have the wisdom to tend it.”

Lady Revel scoffed, snapping her fan shut with a click. “How unbearably sentimental. Spare us the sermons, Luminary Pontifex Tàiyáng—some of us prefer results to riddles.”

Tàiyáng only smiled gently, as if her words were a breeze through reeds. “Lady Locket Revel has been… disturbed by the recent encounter with the undead. She is acting out of protocol.”

There was a pause. Then a ripple of barely suppressed snickers moved through the group—Mezzo biting his knuckle, Ray coughing into her fist, even Arcade’s goggles slipping down as his shoulders shook.

Revel’s ears twitched. Her fan snapped open again with a whipcrack. “Disturbed? Out of protocol? How droll, Pontifex.” She bared her teeth in a smile too sharp to be kind. “Perhaps next you’ll suggest I’ve scuffed my gown, and that, too, is unseemly for a Council lady?”

Tàiyáng inclined his head, serene. “Well… it is rather red already.”

The giggles turned into open laughter before Celeste quickly muffled herself behind her paw.

Revel’s glare could have melted sugar glass. “Enjoy your mirth while you can,” she purred dangerously. “I promise, the Council’s law is less forgiving than my patience.”

A laugh split the square.

Wild. Shrill. Unhinged. It rippled through the broken street like static through a radio, both charming and unnerving at once.

Celeste’s head snapped up.

On the far side of the square, a figure emerged—a cheetah draped in ornate wasp-themed armor, gold and black plates glinting like a predator dressed for a masquerade ball. His wings clicked open with insectile precision, his cape trailing like velvet venom.

“Aha!” he purred, voice lilting with honeyed arrogance, each syllable dripping like gold. “But what’s this? Little kittens swatting at my drones? Tch, tch. No, no, no—these morsels are mine. And you…” His mandibles clicked with a theatrical buzz as he swept into a bow far too elaborate for a battlefield. “…you are trespassing in the theater of my vengeance!”

Caedrix Umbranox, lounging in the carriage like a shadow given form, exhaled slowly. Her smoke-like mane curled around her shoulders as though even the air was tired. “Oh, stars preserve me… how long must you keep this farce alive, Wasp?” Her tone dripped cool disdain. “It’s exhausting.”

The Gilded Wasp reeled back with a dramatic gasp, clutching his plated chest. “Exhausting? Exhausting?! To devote every waking breath to one’s noble vendetta is exhausting? Ha! No, my sweet thorn Lady Umbranox Arcturus—this is devotion made manifest! This is art!”

Lady Revel groaned audibly, dragging her paw down her face. “A pain in the backside,” she muttered. Then her ears shot upright, realizing too late she’d slipped out of her Council tone. With a huff, she snapped her lace fan open and smacked Celeste lightly on the head. “Show respect, girl! That’s the Gilded Wasp!”

Celeste blinked, rubbing her ears. “Oh, uh—sorry.” Then she tilted her head sheepishly. “But who is he?”

The Gilded Wasp swept his wings wide, his laugh buzzing like a hive in delirium. “I am the Gilded Wasp! Monarch of blades, scourge of the skies, eternal foe of—”

“—tedium itself,” Caedrix Umbranox cut in, her tone smooth as velvet but sharpened with scorn. She didn’t even rise from her seat, smoke curling lazily about her shoulders. “You strut, you shout, you summon toys, and still you bore me. Do you ever tire of your own voice?”

The Wasp reeled as though stabbed, claws at his chest. “Bore you?! Bore you?” His mandibles clicked in outrage. “This vendetta is the marrow of my soul!”

Umbranox’s lips curved into a smirk, dark and knowing. Her eyes glinted like burning coals in the night. “Then your soul is pitiably thin.”

Lady Revel huffed beside her, snapping her fan open in a flurry of lace. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to maintain dignity, and you’re encouraging his theatrics.”

Celeste, shrinking a little, blurted softly: “Um… sorry, but… who is he?”

The Wasp gasped with delighted offense, buzzing closer. “Who am I? Oh, child—”

“An irritation,” Umbranox interrupted again, her voice like a dagger slipped beneath the ribs. She leaned back in her seat, gaze half-lidded, dripping disdain. “He flutters. He rants. He fails. That is all you need know.”

The Wasp fluttered back with a hiss, claws spread. “Hah! You wound me, smoke-queen! But very well—if you find my words dull, perhaps my blades will thrill you!”

His armor hissed open, and a swarm of gilded drones poured forth, buzzing with jagged malice.

Umbranox sighed as though inconvenienced. She lifted her flintlock with one languid motion and fired three perfect shots. The drones sparked and fell in showers of candy glass. She lowered the gun, her smirk deepening.
“Pathetic. Perhaps next you’ll juggle fire for us, yes? Or recite dreadful poetry?”

The Wasp’s mandibles clicked furiously. “Insufferable woman!”

“Mm. At least you learn quickly,” she purred.

With a flourish, a swarm of jagged robot wasps poured from the vents of his armor, their buzzing filling the square in a shrill crescendo.

Caedrix Umbranox fired without even rising from her seat—one, two, three shots in perfect rhythm. Sparks burst as drones collapsed into candy glass shards. But then—click. Jammed. She snarled, shaking the weapon.

Lady Revel pointed her fan at the group like a duelist giving orders. “You—mongrels! Protect your betters!”

Ray leaned lazily against a cracked pillar, unimpressed. “Or, you know, we could just… leave.”

Arcade adjusted his goggles, typing furiously on his wrist pad. “Statistically, retreat is, in fact, the optimal survival strategy.”

But Celeste had already stepped forward.

She swung her blade in awkward arcs, batting drones from the air—first one, then another, then a third. Sparks popped like fireworks. She bared her teeth in a grin, half nervous, half delighted, batting at them like dangling toys.

Mezzo’s jaw dropped. “Are you—Princess, are you playing with them?!”

Celeste ducked another drone, batting it aside with a squeak. “Shush and help!”

Mezzo’s grin spread ear to ear. He summoned his guitar-axe with a howl. “Now you’re talkin’, lass!” He charged in swinging wild, shredding drones in fiery arcs. “Rock and roll, ya glittery tin gnats!”

The Wasp laughed above it all, buzzing theatrically from the rooftops. “Yes! Dance for me, kittens! Dance upon my stage of honey and steel! Ohhh, how I do adore an audience!”

Ray and Arcade just stood there, side by side, watching in disbelief.

Ray deadpanned, arms crossed. “We are definitely dying with these idiots.”

Arcade sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yep. This is how society collapses—death by slapstick.”

Still, despite the chaos, the tide was turning—their strange rhythm was holding, and the swarm was breaking.

Caedrix Umbranox watched silently from the carriage, eyes narrowed, smoke curling at her paws.

Not at the drones.
Not at the Wasp.

But at Celeste.

The gilded drones swarmed like angry hornets, golden wings whirring and stingers sparking.

Celeste ducked low, her katanas flashing in clumsy arcs, batting them away more like a panicked kitten than a soldier. Sparks popped as her blades sliced through circuits, and every time one dropped smoking to the cobbles she let out a little squeak of relief.

“Feckin’ brilliant!” Mezzo bellowed, charging into the chaos, Heartaxe singing a raw chord as he cleaved a drone clean in half. The machine exploded in a fizz of honey-sweet smoke. He laughed wildly. “Like playin’ whack-a-mole with bloody fireworks!”

“Less whack, more chop!” Celeste yelped, batting one away from her ear as though shooing a moth. “Oh stars—oh no no no!” She flailed, tripped, then rolled up onto her feet just as another buzzed past her head. “I hate bugs—I hate bugs—!”

Lumina darted in with a burst of glowing petals, her staff wobbling dangerously in her grip. She spun clumsily but managed to catch a drone mid-flight.
“Blossom Feint!” she squeaked. The petals sprayed everywhere as she tumbled into a heap.
The drone sparked, sliced open, dropping at her feet. Lumina popped her head up, dizzy but grinning. “Did… did it work?”

Skye, face deadpan but eyes alight, drew a card from his launcher. “Fire draw.”
He flicked it forward, the card glowing as a small phoenix spirit burst forth, immolating a cluster of drones. He blinked up at the smoke, muttered, “Neat,” and added almost absently, “They sound like microwave popcorn.”

Mezzo doubled over laughing mid-swing. “Yes! That’s exactly what it sounds like—”
He cleaved another bug, showering Celeste in sparks. She sneezed.

All the while, Lady Umbranox had not lifted her weapon again. She lounged in her carriage seat, her gaze tracking Celeste alone. Her chin rested lightly against her knuckles, her eyes narrowed not in irritation now—but in study.

The way Celeste stumbled, then recovered with a reflex too sharp for accident.
The way her aura pulsed when Lumina flared beside her, brighter than a candle against night.
The way her fear never silenced her, only pushed her into reckless bravery.

Recognition bloomed in Umbranox’s expression—sharp, dangerous, and knowing.

“Mmm,” she murmured under her breath, Adark cadence curling through the words, soft and dark. “So that is what she is…”

Her lips curved into the faintest smirk.
A secret confirmed.