The inn smelled like herbs, damp wood, and old smoke.
Cinder’s eyes snapped open.
Her breath came fast.
Her hands grabbed the sheets.
“Mina—!”
The name tore out of her throat before she even knew she was awake.
Vemi was at her side immediately—long dark hair pulled back, sleeves rolled, towel and basin already in hand.
“Easy,” Vemi said softly. “Breathe.”
Cinder’s eyes darted around the room.
Wood beams. Familiar walls.
Inn ceiling.
“You’ve been talking in your sleep,” Vemi added gently. “The cat girl you kept calling for? She’s downstairs.”
Cinder froze.
“…That’s impossible.”
“She’s here,” Vemi said. “But be mindful when you come down. It’s… loud.”
Five minutes later the door burst open.
Mina bounced in first.
Pink hair. Green circus coat. Bright blue eyes shining.
“Cinder! I miss mew!”
Cinder shot upright.
“How—? I saw— Ace and Queen took you—”
Behind Mina stood Kara, steady and silver-haired, and Lyn at her shoulder.
Then Seraphine stepped in last, fan already opening and closing in rhythmic thought.
“Yes,” Seraphine said calmly. “They did.”
Cinder’s eyes hardened.
Seraphine’s voice stayed level.
“We had a difficult time restoring her. Calamity bearers are… inconveniently resilient.”
Cinder’s gaze sharpened.
“You kept her.”
“For a moment,” Seraphine admitted.
Her fan snapped shut.
“I lost a wager.”
Mina tilted her head innocently.
Seraphine exhaled.
“And here she is.”
Cinder’s eyes flicked to the doorway as Queen and another dragon girl passed in the hall.
Her body tensed instantly.
“No. That dragon— Queen. She’s part of my court. The Sinister Seven—”
Seraphine lifted a finger.
“Relax.”
The air changed.
Her expression shifted.
Not pleasant.
“If you want someone to blame…”
Her fan flipped open slowly.
“…blame me.”
The room felt colder.
“I sent Ace and Queen to prevent Mina from healing,” Seraphine said evenly. “We required leverage.”
Cinder’s breath caught.
“But you healed her.”
Seraphine’s eyes gleamed.
“Yes.”
Her voice dropped.
“Because her calamity is worse than anticipated.”
Cinder swallowed.
“And Ruby?”
Seraphine turned away slightly.
“She remains in my kingdom.”
Silence.
“You may attempt retrieval,” Seraphine added coolly. “Though I advise against it.”
Kara stepped forward.
“If I may ask— what is your intention with the calamity books?”
Seraphine’s fan paused mid-air.
“To gather them.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“To prevent war.”
A beat.
“Through total control.”
The room went still.
Kara studied her.
“And now that Celica’s Embers is active?”
Seraphine’s gaze shifted slightly—calculating.
“That complicates matters.”
Cinder whispered:
“…Derpy.”
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Seraphine’s tone darkened.
“He may appear weak.”
A small pause.
“But when he switches…”
Her fan snapped closed.
“…he becomes a liability for every throne on this continent.”
The room absorbed that truth.
And far away—
Someone else was thinking the same thing.
Seraphine’s fan tapped once against her palm.
“You asked why I healed her,” she said.
Cinder didn’t answer.
Her hands were still clenched in the sheets.
Seraphine’s gaze slid to Mina.
Mina was too bright for the room.
Too loud.
Too alive.
Seraphine’s voice stayed even.
“Because I learned what happens when she is not contained.”
Her fan opened.
Not for air.
For memory.
“And because she disabled two of my own.”
Kara’s posture sharpened.
“Two?”
Seraphine’s eyes stayed flat.
“Lyra Shadowbloom,” she said.
“And the Berserker .”
Cinder’s throat tightened.
Seraphine continued.
“Joker was present.”
A pause.
“He survived because he stopped performing.”
Her gaze pinned the room.
“He removed the mask.”
“And became Jack.”
The inn went quiet.
Seraphine’s fan closed.
“Let me show you.”
Mina was in a glass box.
Not a cage.
A statement.
Runes stitched into every edge.
Seam-thread reinforced across the corners.
A collar of silver lines around her throat that wasn’t jewelry.
Her calamity book was not in her hands.
That didn’t matter.
The power lived in her.
Mina’s breath hitched.
Her eyes rolled toward the glass.
“Cinder,” she whispered.
Not a name.
A hook.
Then her forehead hit the glass.
Once.
Again.
Again.
The sound wasn’t loud.
It was worse.
It was the sound of someone trying to break their own skull to get out of their own head.
Her mouth opened on a noise that wasn’t language.
An angry, feral cat-sound that scraped the room.
“Cinder,” Mina rasped.
A breath.
“Cinder.”
Again.
“Cinder—where are you.”
Again.
“Cinder—where are you.”
Again.
“Cinder—where are you.”
The words didn’t change.
Only the way they broke.
The runes flared.
The seams tightened.
The glass spiderwebbed.
Lyra Shadowbloom stepped forward, shadow pooling at her feet like ink.
Berserker moved with her, shoulders squared, ready to take the impact.
Joker stood back half a step.
Mask on.
Hands loose.
Posture too casual for a room that might explode.
Seraphine watched them like an accountant watching a fire.
“Contain her,” Seraphine ordered.
Mina’s threads snapped into the air.
You couldn’t see them.
You only saw what they did.
Lyra’s shadow surged up—trying to wrap Mina in darkness.
Mina caught the shadow instead.
Lyra’s knees hit the floor.
Hard.
Her breath went thin.
Berserker King charged.
Mina’s power yanked.
His body jerked sideways like his bones had been pulled by invisible strings.
He hit the wall.
Then hit the floor.
Not dead.
Not broken.
Disabled.
The glass finally gave.
A sharp, clean shatter.
Mina stepped through the broken edge without flinching.
Blood beaded on her forehead.
Her head tilted.
“Cinder—where are you.”
Again.
“Cinder—where are you.”
Again.
Joker moved.
Not fast.
Decisive.
He didn’t rush Mina.
He rushed the space between Mina and everyone else.
A hand lifted.
A string snapped.
The battle became invisible.
Mina’s threads found him.
Wrapped around his wrists.
His elbows.
The base of his throat.
His body jerked once.
Twice.
Resistance was still movement.
And movement was something Marionette could steal.
Joker’s fingers went to his mask.
Seraphine’s gaze didn’t change.
Joker removed it.
The air shifted.
Not magic.
Intent.
Joker became Jack.
Jack looked at Mina.
Then at Seraphine.
Then back at Mina.
He held the line.
Not with a new power.
With the same kit.
Used without theatrics.
Mina’s breath went ragged.
Her power surged.
Then stuttered.
Too much energy.
Too much hunger.
Jack held.
Mina dropped.
Not gently.
Like a puppet whose strings had finally been cut.
Seraphine’s top healers swarmed Mina.
Hands glowed.
Mouths moved.
One of them looked up, face tight.
“We can stabilize the body,” the healer said. “But to restore her mind, we need the herb.”
Seraphine’s gaze went to Jack.
“You,” she said.
Jack’s eyes stayed flat.
He didn’t put the mask back on.
“Understood,” he said. “Keep her contained until I return.”
Seraphine’s fan snapped shut.
“Go,” she ordered.
Jack turned.
And went.
Seraphine’s voice returned to the room.
“That is why,” she said.
Cinder’s throat worked.
“You healed her so you could use her.”
Seraphine’s gaze didn’t soften.
“I healed her because leaving her broken would have been irresponsible,” she said.
A pause.
“And because a broken calamity bearer is still a calamity bearer.”
Mina shifted.
Too bright.
Too loud.
Too alive.
Cinder looked at her.
And felt the floor tilt under the weight of it.
Night.
The stitched circle glowed faintly.
Closed.
Lenora stared at it.
Lewd folded her arms tightly.
Mia paced in sharp, anxious loops.
Sphinx sat still—too still.
Ace crouched near the circle.
Not stretching.
Not joking.
Studying.
Her horns caught the moonlight.
Her wings stayed tight to her back.
“Clean seal,” she said quietly. “Military-grade stitchwork.”
Lenora’s jaw clenched.
“So we wait?”
Ace traced the air just above the rune line—not touching it.
“They want him alive,” she said.
Lewd looked at her sharply.
“How do you know?”
“Because they closed it,” Ace said.
“If they wanted him dead, they’d have left it unstable.”
Mia let out a low, pained whine.
Sphinx’s tail flicked once.
Ace’s eyes softened—only slightly.
“They’re keeping him,” she said. “Not ending him.”
Her voice lowered.
“That means leverage.”
Lenora exhaled sharply.
“And if they hurt him?”
Ace’s gaze darkened.
“Then we don’t storm gates,” she said.
“We dismantle systems.”
She looked back at the circle.
“They think they have control.”
A beat.
“Let them think that.”
Lewd closed her eyes briefly.
“Blight says he’s okay.”
Lenora looked to her.
“Can Derpy open it?”
Lewd focused inward.
Blight’s voice returned like a distant echo.
He can’t. There’s a collar. The queen must remove it.
Silence.
Mia stopped pacing.
Sphinx pressed closer to her.
Lenora’s voice was tight.
“So he’s trapped.”
Ace nodded once.
“For now.”
Her wings flexed once—controlled power.
“We gather information,” she said.
Her eyes gleamed faintly.
“And when we move…”
Her voice was calm.
“It will not be reckless.”
It will be decisive.
Afternoon sunlight filled the elven courtyard.
Derpy had reverted to dragon form again.
Wings extended behind him.
Tail coiled.
Mk1 sat beside him.
Mk2 stood close—newly repaired arm flexing carefully.
Mk3 watched quietly.
Mk4 remained alert.
They looked almost… normal.
Like a strange found family.
Derpy didn’t notice the guards sealing exits.
Didn’t notice the stands filling with nobles.
Didn’t notice the political figures gathering.
He only noticed Mk1 leaning gently against his arm.
“Friend warm,” she said softly.
Derpy’s expression softened.
Then applause echoed.
He looked up.
Two royal balconies.
Opposite each other.
Queen Vaeloria on one side.
King Thornevald on the other.
Derpy blinked.
“…Oh no.”
Vaeloria stepped forward.
“My champion has made remarkable progress,” she said.
Her voice carried.
“The Stitchborne Division evolves.”
The King’s expression hardened.
“They are tools,” he said.
“And tools are replaceable.”
The courtyard stiffened.
Vaeloria’s staff touched the stone.
Pink ice spread outward.
“They are not tools.”
Thornevald’s staff flared with fire.
“They are weapons.”
The dolls stiffened.
Derpy stood slowly.
Realization dawning.
He wasn’t sparring.
He was evidence.
He was leverage.
He was the center of a royal war.
Vaeloria’s voice sharpened.
“They are learning from him.”
The King’s voice thundered back.
“He is unstable.”
Fire flared.
Ice surged.
The dolls stepped in instinctively.
Derpy’s gloves manifested.
Black.
White streaked with green.
“Stop.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
But it cut through both forces.
Fire paused.
Ice froze mid-arc.
Derpy looked at both thrones.
“I’m not your argument.”
The King’s gaze burned.
“You are under imperial authority.”
Vaeloria’s tone softened—dangerous.
“You are under my protection.”
The dolls shifted closer to Derpy.
Not ordered.
Choosing.
That choice did not go unnoticed.
The King’s voice went cold.
“Doll-soldier program is no longer required.”
Mk1’s hand tightened slightly.
Vaeloria’s eyes flashed.
“They are evolving.”
The political stands erupted in whispers.
The debate had become visible fracture.
Derpy felt it.
The empire was splitting.
Not over territory.
Over ideology.
Peace.
Expansion.
Control.
And now—
Him.
