Later that afternoon, the base had settled into an uneasy kind of calm.

Not peaceful, exactly. Peaceful would have meant no glowing red icons on the Nommie Table, no generals marked in sugar-light, no half-finished conversations sitting in the corners like ghosts waiting to be noticed.

But the laughter had returned in little pieces.

A snort from Arcade over something on his bracer. Mezzo loudly arguing with the pizza oven as though it had personally offended his ancestors. Skye reorganising plates by size, then pretending he absolutely had not done that. Hughes sitting very still with his tea, which somehow made him look more suspicious than if he had been actively hiding a body.

Celeste stood near the edge of the table with Bonbon tucked against her hip, one arm wrapped under the little panda’s bottom as Bonbon pointed very seriously at the remaining slices of pizza.

“Dw i eisiau pitsa bambŵ,” Bonbon announced.

Celeste blinked.

Bonbon repeated it, slower this time, as though Celeste were the toddler. “Pitsa. Bambŵ.”

Celeste’s ears twitched. “Right. Yes. I know that one. You want… bamboo… boots?”

Bonbon stared at her.

Celeste winced. “No. Not boots. That would be silly. Unless they were little boots, and then it might be quite sweet, actually.”

Bonbon’s mouth wobbled.

Celeste tried again, concentrating so hard her nose wrinkled. “Bamboo… bath?”

Bonbon broke.

She burst into delighted giggles, paws squishing against Celeste’s cheeks. “Pitsa bambŵ!”

“Oh!” Celeste gasped, finally catching up. “Bamboo pizza!”

Bonbon nodded proudly, still laughing.

Celeste looked down at the pizza plates, deeply uncertain. “I don’t think we have bamboo pizza, love. I don’t even know if that’s a thing. Though after watching Marzipan eat barbecue sauce, pineapple, and chicken like it was a sacred ritual, I’m not sure I’m allowed to judge food anymore.”

Bonbon giggled harder and patted Celeste’s nose.

Celeste smiled despite herself, holding her a little closer. “I’m sorry. My Caerfaenic is still a bit wobbly. Like jelly. Very enthusiastic jelly.”

Bonbon leaned against her shoulder, clearly pleased with this.

Then Celeste felt it.

That prickling awareness of being watched.

She glanced over just as Ray walked past the doorway, plate in one hand, expression unreadable.

Not angry.

Not exactly.

But her eyes lingered on Celeste for half a second too long.

Sharp. Measuring. Waiting.

I’m watching you.

Celeste’s smile faded slightly.

Ray kept walking.

Bonbon looked from Celeste to the doorway, then tucked her face against Celeste’s hoodie with a small, questioning hum.

Celeste swallowed.

She still didn’t know what to tell Ray. Or what she was supposed to remember. Her father had been kind, in his quiet way. Protective. Tired. Always leaving. Always coming back with shadows behind his eyes and nothing useful in his mouth.

Special forces.

Council business.

Glyndŵr.

A word she had heard without understanding.

A word that had made Hughes’s bracer flicker and Pitch go very still.

Celeste shifted Bonbon higher on her hip, guilt curling under her ribs like smoke.

“I’ll tell them if I remember,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure whether she was saying it to Bonbon or herself. “I will. I just… have to remember first.”

Bonbon patted her cheek.

Celeste managed a small smile. “Thank you. That was very wise. Or you want more pizza. It’s hard to tell with you sometimes.”

Bonbon pointed at the table again. “Pitsa bambŵ.”

“Yes, yes, I know now,” Celeste said solemnly. “The royal order has been received.”

Near the edge of the room, Pitch lingered in the half-shadow, cards flicking between his fingers in restless arcs. His eyes slid toward Celeste, who was busy balancing a plate of pizza in one hand while Bonbon clutched her other arm.

“Oi, Kitten,” he said, quieter than usual. “Got a minute?”

Celeste blinked, ears pricking. “Hm? Sure.”

He tipped his head toward a side door. She followed, Bonbon padding along dutifully, dragging her little slice of pizza like a prized trophy.

Inside the side room, the hum of the base dulled. Pitch leaned against the wall, his smirk subdued for once.

“I, uh… wanted to say thanks. For the tunnels. For saving my hide.” He tapped a card against his chin, avoiding her eyes. “Truth is, I can’t leave Clawdiff. Tried. Doesn’t stick. So… if you’ll have me, I’d like to stay. At least until the barrier falls.”

Celeste smiled gently, balancing Bonbon against her hip. “Sure thing. It’s no trouble. And we’ve got plenty of room.”

Pitch huffed a dry laugh. “You don’t have to be so nice to a weirdo who popped up outta nowhere at a convention.”

“Technically,” Celeste said, a spark of humor in her voice, “we’re all kind of like that here.”

He glanced at her, ears twitching, then nodded. “Fair. Either way, I’ll pull my weight. Survival’s my specialty. I know how to secure a place, find supplies, sniff out weak spots. And…” His gaze finally steadied on her. “I’ll watch your back. That’s a promise.”

Celeste’s smile softened. “I trust you, Pitch.”

He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Don’t say that too loud. Ruins my reputation.” Straightening, he gestured toward the hall. “I’m gonna have a look around. Get the lay of the land.”

With a nod, Pitch slipped out, his footsteps fading into the steel corridors. Celeste adjusted Bonbon on her hip, about to return to the common room when a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, Celeste!”

Carys padded down the corridor, a small bag slung over her shoulder, her smile as bright as ever. She gave a little wave before nodding toward the side door Pitch had just vacated. “That room near the kitchen—is it free? Figured it’d be easier to sneak snacks without trekking halfway across the base.”

Celeste chuckled softly. “Sure thing. Take it.”

Carys’s ears perked. “Thanks. I’ll stick around here for a while, but… I do want to head back to the university sooner rather than later. My stuff’s still there.”

Celeste hesitated, then nodded. “Same. Maybe I’ll come with you.”

Carys’s smile widened as she reached out, brushing Celeste’s arm. “You’re so sweet and helpful. Always thinking of others.”

Celeste’s cheeks warmed, and she quickly busied herself shifting Bonbon’s weight in her arms. “It’s nothing, really.”

Carys giggled. “Blushing suits you.” With a wink, she headed down the hall, humming to herself.

Celeste lingered in the corridor for a moment, her ears still pink, before Bonbon tugged at her sleeve and mumbled, “Pizza’s getting cold.”

The base had settled into a rare moment of calm. The lights hummed softly overhead, casting a warm glow across the mismatched furniture and stacked crates. Celeste lounged on one of the threadbare sofas, a slice of barbecue chicken and pineapple pizza in her hand, the crust still steaming from the oven.

Bonbon sat curled in her lap, both hands around a small sippy cup filled with milk. Her eyes, always so alert, had softened under the comfort of a full belly. She took slow, steady sips, nuzzling into Celeste’s side like a kitten satisfied for the first time in days.

Celeste gently brushed a lock of fur from Bonbon’s face, a rare peace settling over her. She took a bite of the pizza—sweet pineapple and smoky barbecue sauce blending in a way that made her eyes flutter shut. It tasted like memories. Like warmth. Like something from before.

A few feet away, Pitch wandered through the base, poking and prodding everything in sight. He muttered under his breath as he examined exposed wires, tapped on metal walls, and stared long and hard at the ceiling vents like they might come alive and whisper secrets.

“This whole place is weird,” he said, not really to anyone. “The airflow’s perfect. Not a speck of dust in the ducts. No mold, no leaks, no power fluctuations. Either someone’s still maintaining this place, or... it’s running on ghost energy and a prayer.”

“You think it’s haunted?” Celeste teased, raising an eyebrow.

Pitch scratched his chin. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve dealt with.”

Across the room, Mezzo plopped down beside her and caught a whiff of her pizza. He blinked, leaned in, and froze mid-sniff.

“Is that... pineapple?” he asked, voice low, as if uttering an unspeakable curse.

Celeste smirked, not missing a beat. “Barbecue sauce, chicken, and pineapple. Best combo.”

Mezzo leaned back with a look of betrayal. “You—you eat fruit on pizza? I thought we were comrades.”

Celeste took another deliberate bite, eyes locked on him. “We survived sewer monsters together, Mezzo. I think our bond can handle a topping disagreement.”

“Disagreement?” Mezzo scoffed. “That’s not a disagreement, that’s a war crime. What did that poor slice ever do to you?”

Bonbon, watching curiously from Celeste’s lap, offered a quiet, approving “Mmm!”—milk dribbling down her chin.

Mezzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Hang on,” he said slowly. “Lumina liked that one too, didn’t she?”

Celeste blinked. “Mm?”

“The barbecue sauce, chicken, and pineapple thing.” Mezzo pointed accusingly at her slice. “Lumina had three pieces. Marzipan ate half a battlefield’s worth of it. And now you’re saying it’s your favourite?”

Celeste looked down at her pizza, then back at him with a small, sheepish smile.

“Oh. Well… maybe it’s just a quirky coincidence?”

Mezzo stared at her.

“A quirky coincidence,” he repeated flatly.

Celeste nodded, as though this was perfectly reasonable. “Families can have similar tastes. Or friends. Or… people with very good instincts about sauce.”

“Very good instincts?” Mezzo clutched his own pepperoni slice like it had personally comforted him through a tragedy. “Celeste, that pizza tastes like someone lost a bet at a picnic.”

Pitch glanced over from inspecting a junction box. “You should hear what she puts in her sandwiches.”

Mezzo groaned and slid down in his seat. “I knew it. You’re all lunatics.”

Celeste chuckled, wiping Bonbon’s face. “Better a lunatic with a full stomach than a cranky cat on an empty one.”

Mezzo folded his arms, but he couldn't hide the twitch of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Fine. But if someone puts banana on a burger next, I’m out.”

For a moment, the team basked in the illusion of normal. No monsters, no warnings, no roars in the distance—just jokes, strange comfort food, and the hum of a base that somehow still felt like home.

Even if someone in it liked pineapple on pizza.

Later, when the laughter had dimmed and Bonbon had dozed off against her side, Celeste eased the Nommipedia back into her lap. Its cover pulsed faintly, eager to be opened.

She brushed her paw across the page and whispered, “Scan.”

New entries unfolded in shimmering light, each glowing name aligning with the friends seated around her.

Hybrid Statuses:

Ray: Fox/Phoenix.

Mezzo: Dalmatian/Gryphon.

Skye: Fennec Fox/Carbuncle.

Arcade: Hedgehog/Chupacabra.

Celeste blinked, her heart thumping. Then her eyes trailed further down the list.

Hughes: Welsh Mountain Goat/Leshy.

Her ears flicked back. “Leshy?” The word felt ancient, heavy, older than most myths she’d studied. She glanced at him where he sat oiling his crook, unbothered, like it was nothing more than a footnote. The revelation lodged deep in her chest.

She turned the page again—searching for her own name.

Nothing.

No entry for Celeste. No entry for Lumina. Not even for Bonbon.

Her stomach twisted. She had saved lives, crossed Clawdiff, wielded powers she barely understood—but the Nommipedia still refused to name her.

Then the shadows in the corner shifted, and Pitch sauntered back into the common room, tossing a card idly into the air. Celeste’s eyes flicked instinctively to the book—only to find his space blurred, scrambled, like ink refusing to hold. Almost as though he didn’t want to be seen.

Why?

Her claws tightened around the page. She would give anything to understand her own heritage, to know why her father had been so secretive, why her memories of her mother unraveled the harder she tried to recall them. Were they ever real? Or had pieces been cut away?

She hugged Bonbon a little closer as the cub murmured in her sleep, her small hand clutching Celeste’s ribbon. Celeste stared down at the glowing script of the Nommipedia, her reflection caught in its shining page.

Not a Unknown. Not a mistake. But still… a question with no answer.