The passage opened into a chamber that stole Charlie's breath and held it hostage.
The room was massive—a hemisphere of polished obsidian and scrying glass that curved overhead like the dome of a forgotten temple. The walls reflected the beam of his helmet lamp in fractured fragments, throwing the light back in a thousand directions, creating the illusion of standing inside a gemstone. The air was cold and still, heavy with the weight of centuries, carrying the scent of old fire and older death.
The floor was white.
Not stone. Not tile. Ash.
A foot-deep layer of pale grey-white powder stretched across the entire chamber, fine as flour, soft as silk. The stuff clung to their boots, rose in small clouds with each step, and settled back to the ground in slow, drifting spirals. The ash covered everything—the floor, the lower edges of the walls, the threshold they had just crossed.
Bianca Yvonne Clark waded into the chamber, her boots sinking into the ash with soft shush sounds. She lifted her foot, shook it, and watched the white powder drift down like snow.
"What the hell?"
Galit Varuna followed, his long neck swiveling, his emerald-green eyes tracking the walls, the ceiling, the strange reflections in the glass. His Riptide Cloak brushed through the ash, leaving a dark trail behind him.
"It looks like it is everywhere."
Charlie fumbled through the entrance, his pith helmet bouncing, his satchel swinging. His glasses had fogged again—the temperature change from the passage to the chamber was worse than he expected. He wiped them on his sleeve, pushed them up his nose, and stepped into the ash.
"Well, this is quite unique."
The powder rose around his boots, and he paused, looking down at the white layer with the expression of a man who had just realized he would be cleaning his khaki trousers for the next three hours.
Jannali Bandler walked ahead of them, her steps unhurried, her headscarf wrapped tight around her afro, her golden hoop earrings swinging. Her brown eyes remained glassy, unfocused, and her lips moved in that constant, low mutter.
"Ol sonf vorsg, goho Iad Balt. Sobam de vpaah Eye of Shinimu."
Her voice echoed off the obsidian walls, bouncing back in overlapping waves. The sound was strange—too loud for the size of the chamber, too resonant, as if the room itself was amplifying her words.
"Gah de Nigredo. Ooaona ladnah de ash. Quasb aspt de hami."
Charlie's head spun.
The entrance behind them was gone.
The stone wall stood smooth and unbroken, the archway they had walked through sealed as if it had never existed. No crack. No seam. No trace of the passage that had brought them here.
He turned back to Galit and Bianca, clearing his throat. Ahem!
"As I was saying, the symbols overtop the entrance were a warning."
Bianca glared at him, her dark eyes flat. "Like, yeah. Whatever."
Galit's voice cut through the tension, low and focused. "What is she saying?"
Charlie cocked his head, listening to Jannali repeat her chant. The words spiraled through the chamber, ancient and resonant.
"Ol sonf vorsg, goho Iad Balt. Sobam de vpaah Eye of Shinimu. Gah de Nigredo. Ooaona ladnah de ash. Quasb aspt de hami."
He cleared his throat again. Ahem!
"Roughly translated: 'I reign over you, says the God of Justice. Whosoever touches the Eye of Shinimu. The Spirit of Darkness: Look into the mirror of ash. Your shadow shall consume the unworthy.'"
Bianca flicked her wrist, the gesture sharp and dismissive.
"That like sounds like kind of like ominous."
The ash began to swirl.
It started as a whisper—a soft brush of powder against powder, a shift in the air that made the fine white particles dance. Then it grew stronger, faster, spiraling upward in columns that twisted around each other like braided rope.
They looked up.
The ceiling was gone.
In its place, a giant eye stared down at them.
The eye filled the dome, its iris a deep, burning gold, its pupil a vertical slit that contracted as it focused on the figures below. The eye did not blink. It did not move. It simply watched, patient and hungry, the weight of its gaze pressing down on them like the pressure of the deep sea.
Galit's voice came out low, tight. "What creature would have an eye that size?"
No one answered.
The eye blazed with light.
The beam was blinding—white-hot and searing, forcing everyone to cover their eyes, to turn their faces away, to shield themselves from the glare. Charlie threw his arm across his face, stumbling backward. Bianca ducked behind Galit's tall frame. Galit squinted against the light, his long neck coiling, his emerald eyes watering.
Then the light dimmed.
Charlie lowered his arm.
Shadows stood before them.
Not normal shadows—these were wrong. Twisted. Their edges were too sharp, their proportions too exaggerated. They were copies of the group, but darker, crueler, their faces split by devious grins, their eyes hollow and hungry.
Bianca's shadow cracked its knuckles. Charlie's shadow hefted a book—his book, the one from his satchel, the one he had been reading earlier. Galit's shadow twirled twin whips, the motion fluid and mocking. Jannali's shadow stood motionless, its spear raised, its empty gaze fixed on her original.
Bianca blinked.
"So like—"
Her shadow attacked.
---
The shadow moved faster than Bianca expected, closing the distance with a speed that made her stumble backward. Its fist swung wide, and she dropped to the ground, rolling through the ash, her floral blouse dusted with white powder in dark streaks.
"Like, what the hell?!" She scrambled to her feet, her hands raised, her magnifying goggles bouncing against her forehead. "My like shadow is like bonkers and stuff!"
Her shadow swung again. Bianca ducked, spun, and tried to kick its legs out from under it. Her foot passed through the shadow's form—and something struck her calf, hard, sending her stumbling sideways.
"You can't hit it!" Charlie called out, his voice high and strained. "If you strike the shadow, you feel the pain!"
Bianca's shadow grinned and lunged.
---
Charlie's shadow swung the book.
He ducked, the leather-bound volume whistling past his ear, and scrambled backward through the ash, his satchel swinging wildly against his hip. His pith helmet tilted, and he grabbed it with both hands, holding it in place as he ran.
"I am being attacked by my own reading material!" His voice cracked. "This is a new low!"
The shadow pursued him, its movements jerky and exaggerated, the book raised like a club. Charlie dodged left, then right, then left again, his boots leaving deep furrows in the ash.
"Ms. Jannali may be expressing the answer in her chanting!"
Bianca dove, her body twisting in mid-air, and landed in a heap near a cluster of stalagmites. She pushed herself up, coughing ash from her lungs.
"So like, how does that like help us?!"
Galit's whips cracked through the air, the serpent vertebrae singing as they lashed toward his shadow. The shadow dodged—not gracefully, but with an ease that mocked his efforts. Its own whips snapped forward, and Galit twisted, the venom-tipped lashes grazing his arm.
He hissed in pain, stumbling backward.
"What was the translation?"
Charlie held his satchel in front of him like a shield, backing away from his advancing shadow. His voice came out in a rushed, desperate stream.
"'I reign over you, says the God of Justice. Whosoever touches the Eye of Shinimu. The Spirit of Darkness: Look into the mirror of ash. Your shadow shall consume the unworthy.'"
He slammed on the brakes, his boots leaving streaks in the ash.
"That's it!"
Galit deflected another whip strike, his own whips coiling around his forearms. "What is?"
Charlie turned to face his shadow, his eyes squinting shut.
"The eye. It is the Eye of Justice. It has to consume!"
Galit glanced over, his emerald eyes narrowing. "What are you—"
The shadow was already on Charlie.
The book came down, and Charlie yelped, stumbling sideways, his eyes still squeezed shut. The shadow struck again—a punch to his shoulder, a kick to his shin—and Charlie absorbed the blows, his body jerking with each impact.
"I hope this works!"
He threw his arms wide, opened his mouth, and shouted.
"Ol vinu od Ol loncho de gohed. Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! Cnoqod de hami, darbs de lundoh. Tox de zorge, sa ol de aemeth!"
The words echoed off the obsidian walls, resonant and ancient, filling the chamber with a vibration that rattled teeth and made the ash dance.
Charlie's shadow stopped.
The book hung in mid-air, frozen. The hollow eyes blinked—once, twice—and then the shadow dissolved, its form collapsing into the ash like a sandcastle washed away by the tide.
The ash began to swirl.
Bianca called out, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Like, what the—"
Charlie opened his eyes. He straightened his pith helmet, pointed a finger at the ceiling, and grinned.
"Ah hu! It worked!"
Galit deflected another strike from his shadow, his whips tangling with its copies. "What did you—"
Charlie turned to him, his voice urgent. "Say this chant to your shadow: Ol vinu od Ol loncho de gohed. Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! Cnoqod de hami, darbs de lundoh. Tox de zorge, sa ol de aemeth!"
Galit stared at him like he had grown a second head.
Then he turned to face his shadow.
The emerald-eyed lieutenant planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and repeated the words. They did not come out as fluid as Charlie's—his pronunciation was rougher, the syllables stumbling—but the intent was there.
"Ol vinu od Ol loncho de gohed. Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! Cnoqod de hami, darbs de lundoh. Tox de zorge, sa ol de aemeth."
His shadow stopped.
The whips fell from its hands, dissolving into ash before they hit the ground. Its hollow eyes widened—and then it collapsed, joining the swirling white powder that now filled the chamber.
Bianca scrambled to her feet, her hands raised, her dark eyes fixed on her own shadow. The copy grinned at her, its devious expression frozen.
She shouted the words.
"Ol vinu od Ol loncho de gohed. Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! Cnoqod de hami, darbs de lundoh. Tox de zorge, sa ol de aemeth!"
Her shadow fell, dissolving into the ash like the others.
The whirlwind grew stronger.
---
Jannali's shadow charged.
The spear gleamed, its sea-stone tip aimed at her chest, its hollow eyes fixed on her original. The shadow moved with the speed of a striking serpent—
Jannali did not move.
Her eyes remained glassy. Her lips parted. The words came from her mouth in a low, resonant chant.
"Ol vinu od Ol loncho de gohed. Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! Cnoqod de hami, darbs de lundoh. Tox de zorge, sa ol de aemeth."
The shadow stopped.
The spear hovered inches from her chest, trembling. The hollow eyes blinked—and then the shadow fell away, dissolving into the ash, joining the storm.
The whirlwind became a gale.
Ash filled the air, thick and blinding, whipping past their faces in stinging clouds. Bianca covered her mouth with her arm, her eyes squeezed shut. Galit grabbed Charlie's shoulder, pulling him close to keep from losing him in the chaos.
"Everyone try to find Jannali!"
The ash swirled faster, faster, a white-out that erased the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Charlie could not see his hand in front of his face. He could not hear his own voice over the roar of the wind.
Then, as quickly as it began, the storm stopped.
The ash settled.
A bridge stretched before them—a narrow path of packed white powder, suspended in the air, leading from where they stood to a doorway on the far side of the chamber. The bridge glowed faintly, the ash crystallized into something that looked like salt or sugar or crushed starlight.
Jannali stood at the center of the bridge, her back to them, her headscarf still in place, her hoop earrings still swinging. She began to walk, her steps methodical, her trance unbroken.
Charlie cleared his throat. Ahem!
"I believe this is—"
Jannali walked on.
Galit followed, his long legs carrying him onto the bridge, his emerald eyes fixed on her back. Bianca scrambled after him, her boots leaving prints in the crystallized ash.
Charlie nodded to himself and followed.
"I believe this is the path forward. Yes. Let us continue."
---
Galit glanced over his shoulder at Charlie, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and regret.
"How did you come to the conclusion about the chant?"
Charlie beamed. The grin spread across his face, wide and self-satisfied, and he cleared his throat with a sound that promised a very long answer.
Bianca groaned. "You like had to ask."
Galit looked at her, confused. "What?"
Charlie cleared his throat again. Ahem!
"The interpretation is as follows: 'I invoke and I fall into the everlasting. Open, Open, Gates of Hell, Open!' This is the traditional 'Zazas' formula, used to bridge the abyss between the Self and the Shadow. The next line, 'Servant of the unrefined, obey the kingdom,' is a direct address to the Nigredo—the dark, unrefined self that the shadow represents. And the final line, 'His be the silence, for I am the Truth,' is the declaration of the Aemeth—the Truth-Seeker who has accepted the Alchemic Death and emerged transformed."
His voice echoed off the walls as they walked the bridge of ash.
"The chant works because it forces the shadow to recognize its role in the Great Work. It is not an enemy to be defeated, but a component to be integrated. By speaking the words, you acknowledge that the shadow is part of you—and by accepting it, you transcend it."
Galit's expression had gone blank somewhere around the second sentence.
Bianca's eyes had glazed over.
Charlie continued walking, his voice rising with academic enthusiasm, his pith helmet bobbing, his satchel swinging.
"This is why the Eye of Shinimu requires the seeker to demonstrate Alchemic Death. You cannot simply overpower the shadow. You must—"
Galit immediately regretted asking.
The bridge stretched ahead, the doorway glowing in the distance, and behind them, the Hall of Ash faded into shadow, its secrets tested, its trials passed.
For now.
*****
The wind howled across the rooftops as Aurélie Nakano Takeko and Bō-Zak Kaminosukei hovered above the chaos, their wings beating in slow, deliberate strokes. Below, the street had become a maelstrom of white uniforms and dark blood, of gunfire and screaming and the clang of steel. The smell of gunpowder rose in thick clouds, mixing with the sweeter scent of roasting almonds from the distillery's still-warm ovens. Marines poured from the side streets in waves, their boots pounding against the cobblestones, their rifles gleaming in the afternoon light.
Bō-Zak's gold-flecked brown eyes tracked the movement below, his hair caught in the wind. His condor wings stretched wide, dark feathers tipped with silver, and his shadow stretched across the battlefield like a second, darker self.
"Should we assist?"
Aurélie's compound eyes—steel-gray fracturing into a thousand tiny mirrors—fixed on the children below. Eliane, struggling against a Marine's grip. Sanza, his small fists beating against the arm of his captor. Jelly, trapped in a glass jar. Ciel, watching with wide, frightened eyes.
She nodded.
"We should."
They dove.
---
The wind screamed past Aurélie's face as she plunged toward the earth, her silver hair streaming behind her, her wings folded tight against her back. Her hand found Anathema's hilt, and the cursed blade sang as it left the sheath, the black steel gleaming with a hunger that matched her own. Locusts poured from her shadow—not a trickle, but a flood, a swarm of chittering bodies and buzzing wings that darkened the sky and blotted out the sun.
Bō-Zak dove beside her, his wings snapping open to catch the air, his body shifting as he descended. His shadow stretched beneath him, long and dark, and from that shadow, a shape emerged—a spectral condor with wings that spanned fifty meters, its feathers made of smoke and starlight, its eyes burning with ancient judgment. The spirit-bird rose from the ground, passing through buildings and bodies alike, and the Marines below felt their wills crack.
They collapsed.
Not from a physical blow, but from the weight of their own sins. The Sky Burial stripped away their illusions, forced them to confront the faces of those they had wronged, the orders they had followed without question. Some fell to their knees, clutching their heads. Others dropped their rifles and stared at their hands as if seeing blood for the first time. A few simply lay still, their eyes open and empty, their minds trapped in a vortex of guilt.
Aurélie landed in the center of the chaos, Anathema singing, locusts swirling around her like a living cloak. She cut down a Marine who reached for her, the black blade slicing through his rifle and his resolve in one stroke. Another fell, then another. The swarm covered her, hiding her movements, turning her into a shadow that struck from every direction at once.
Bō-Zak touched down behind her, his dual sickles spinning in his hands, the black stone-salt blades humming with spiritual energy. He blocked a strike from a Marine officer, twisted, and sent the man sprawling into the path of a charging comrade. His spectral condor circled above, its wings casting a shadow that drained the color from the world.
---
Eliane Anđel saw them.
"Aurélie! Bō-Zak!"
She struggled against the Marine's grip, her silver hair tangling in her face, her blue eyes wide with relief and desperation. Beside her, Sanza Kaplan Figarland thrashed against his own captor, his red hair wild, his Gallagher eyebrows drawn down in a scowl.
"Let me go, you peasant!"
Bō-Zak glanced over, his gold-flecked eyes fixing on the children. His sickles spun once, then stopped. His head tilted.
"What are the two of you doing?" His voice carried across the chaos, lazy and amused. "You just going to let them push you around?"
Eliane and Sanza exchanged a look. The confusion in their eyes faded, replaced by something harder, something sharper. They nodded.
Eliane's wings sprouted from her back—dark and luminous, the feathers a proclamation of her secret. A halo of flame burst from her shoulders, casting flickering shadows across the cobblestones. Her blue eyes blazed. She dropped to the ground, twisted out of the Marine's grip, and found a discarded sword lying abandoned. Her fingers closed around the hilt.
She charged.
The Marine holding Jelly's jar turned at the sound of her footsteps. His eyes widened. He raised his rifle—
Eliane swung.
The flat of the blade caught him across the face, and he crumpled. The jar slipped from his fingers and shattered against the cobblestones. Glass exploded outward in a glittering spray, and Jelly tumbled free, his translucent blue body wobbling, his starry eyes blinking in the sudden light.
"Freedom!"
He bounced once, twice, three times, his gelatinous form leaving sticky, glittery trails on the stones.
A random voice rose from the chaos—a Marine, perhaps, or a sailor pressed against a wall.
"That's a Lunarian!"
Eliane did not hear him. She was already flying toward the Marine who held Sanza, her borrowed sword raised.
---
Sanza's body shifted.
White fur sprouted across his skin, soft and luminous, glowing with a faint golden light. His hands became claws, his teeth sharpened, and three tails unfurled from the base of his spine, each one tipped with a golden tuft. Golden horns rose from his forehead, curving back like a crown. His eyes—already piercing—became the eyes of a predator, hungry and wild.
He tore himself free from the Marine's grip.
Claws raked across the man's arm, and he released Sanza with a cry of pain. The boy landed on the cobblestones, his hybrid form crackling with energy, his tails lashing behind him. He felt something stirring in his chest—something deeper than the transformation, something that wanted to be unleashed.
But he pushed it down.
Not yet.
He ran toward Ciel.
---
Ciel Nguyen watched Sanza charge toward him, his dark eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. The Marine who had been holding him released his arm and stumbled backward, raising his rifle to fire at the white-furred creature racing toward him.
Sanza reached him first.
Claws slashed across the rifle's barrel, cutting it in half. The Marine stared at the ruined weapon, then at the small, tiger-like boy standing before him.
Sanza grabbed Ciel's wrist and pulled.
"Come on!"
Ciel stumbled after him, his sandals slapping against the cobblestones. His voice came out high and breathless.
"Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"
Sanza shrugged, his tails swishing behind him. "Didn't really think about it."
The ground shook.
Akako Zinnia stood in the center of the street, her red ponytails bouncing, her frilly black bows fluttering. Heartbreaker—the massive, oversized mallet—rested on her shoulder, its heart-shaped head gleaming with Armament Haki. Her mismatched eyes blazed, and her grin was wide and wild.
"Super Nova Smack!"
She swung.
The shockwave tore through the street, a wave of force that rippled outward in all directions. Marines flew through the air, their bodies limp, their rifles clattering against the cobblestones. The pressure forced everyone to the ground—friend and foe alike—and for a moment, the chaos fell silent.
Sanza pushed himself up, his claws scraping against the stone.
"Come on!"
The boys started running, their feet pounding against the cobblestones, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Jelly bounced beside them, his gelatinous body wobbling with each hop, his starry eyes wide.
"Bloop! Adventure!"
Ciel stopped.
Sanza glanced over his shoulder, his golden eyes narrowing.
"What are you doing?"
Ciel pointed toward the wagon, toward the figure being dragged away by a Marine. Vie Briehanoi struggled against her captor, her dark hair loose and tangled, her brown eyes wet with tears.
"We can't leave Vie Briehanoi!"
Eliane landed beside them, her wings folding against her back, her borrowed sword still clutched in her hand. Her blue eyes followed Ciel's gaze.
"What are you doing?"
Sanza's jaw tightened. "We have to save Vie Briehanoi."
Eliane nodded. "Then let's go."
The four of them charged toward the Marine dragging Vie away, their feet pounding against the cobblestones, their voices rising in a unified cry.
Jelly bounced at the front, his starry eyes fixed on the Marine.
"Save friend!"
---
Umeko Ozias swung Twin Thunder in a wide arc, sending two Marines stumbling backward. His plum-colored hair plated to his face glistened with sweat, and his dark horns caught the light as he turned to face the two new figures in the battlefield.
"Who the hell are you?"
Bō-Zak glanced over, his gold-flecked eyes holding Umeko's. His sickle spinning as they blocked swinging sword.
"Oh, don't mind us. We're just here to pick up the kids."
Umeko's lips curled into a smirk. "How about we team up and get out of here together?"
Aurélie and Bō-Zak exchanged a look—a quick assessment, a weighing of options, a silent agreement.
Then Bō-Zak's head snapped around, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.
"Hey. Check that out."
Aurélie followed his gaze.
Kaburo Gusaki stood in the center of the chaos, his body wreathed in shadow, his blade—Kalamaru—transformed into something monstrous. Three serpent heads rose from the crossguard, their scales gleaming like obsidian, their eyes burning with crimson fire. The Head of Decay exhaled a cloud of corrosive mist. The Head of Judgment spoke in a frequency that shattered glass and sent Marines stumbling. The Head of Rebirth regenerated wounds as fast as they appeared.
Petra Ven fought him, her stonefish form massive and grotesque, her dorsal spines dripping with venom. The ground had turned to liquid around them, and she swam through the stone like a shark through water.
Aurélie nodded. "It appears we have a mutual interest."
Bō-Zak called out to Umeko, his voice carrying across the chaos.
"We're in! We just need an escape route."
---
"This way!"
The voice was sharp, raspy, and utterly familiar. Dr. Maven Trance stood in an out-of-the-way corner, his white coat flapping in the wind, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. He waved his arms in wide, frantic arcs, his silver-white hair disheveled, his pale blue eyes fixed on Umeko Ozias.
Umeko grinned. "Follow him!"
Bō-Zak nodded, his gold-flecked eyes scanning the battlefield. "Okay. I'm going to clear a path."
He launched himself into the air, his condor wings spreading wide, his shadow stretching across the cobblestones below. The spectral condor rose with him, its fifty-meter wingspan blocking out the sun, its eyes burning with ancient fire. He dove.
The Marines below felt the weight of their sins. They collapsed, clutching their heads, dropping their rifles, falling to their knees. The Sky Burial stripped away their illusions, forced them to confront the faces of those they had wronged, the orders they had followed without question. Some wept. Some screamed. Some simply lay still, their eyes empty.
Bō-Zak passed over them, and they fell.
---
Zento Radias watched his men crumble.
His vibrant green eyes widened, and his jaw tightened. He turned his attention away from Ozul Crow as confetti fell around them.
He ran toward the fallen.
Mayla—his pearl-white rifle, his best friend, his confidant—was slung over his shoulder. He raised his arms, dropped to one knee and crossed his forearms, striking a pose, he called out to the heavens.
"Absolute Positivity!"
Rainbows erupted from his body. Flowers—illusory, bright, cheerful—drifted through the air. Butterflies fluttered from his fingertips. The wave of shimmering, rainbow-colored light washed over the fallen Marines, and they gasped, their eyes clearing, their wills returning.
They rose.
Weaker, disoriented, but alive. The guilt that had crushed them moments before faded, replaced by a warm, buoyant optimism that made them want to fight.
Bō-Zak scoffed, watching from above.
Then a bullet whizzed past his head.
He swerved, his wings beating hard, his gold-flecked eyes scanning the ground below. Zento Radias stood in the center of the street, Mayla raised, his vibrant green eyes fixed on Bō-Zak's heart.
"I don't miss twice!"
He fired.
The bullet tore through Bō-Zak's wing.
Pain exploded through his shoulder, white-hot and blinding. His wing folded, the feathers scattering, and he began to fall. The wind screamed past his face. The ground rushed up to meet him.
---
Eliane looked up.
"Bō-Zak!"
She launched herself into the air, her dark wings beating hard, her silver hair streaming behind her.
Her blue eyes fixed on the falling figure, and she flew faster, harder, her arms outstretched.
Sanza called out to her. "Eliane!"
She did not look back. "You'll have to save Vie on your own!"
She caught him.
Bō-Zak's weight pressed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him, her wings straining to keep them both airborne. He was heavy—heavier than she expected—but she held on, her jaw clenched, her muscles burning.
Another bullet whizzed past her ear.
She ducked, twisted, and flew toward the ground.
Bō-Zak's body began to shift, his condor wings retracting, his human form returning. His voice came out rough, pained.
"Thanks, kid."
Eliane's feet touched the cobblestones, and she stumbled, her wings folding against her back. She helped him stand, his arm draped across her shoulders.
"We should go."
Bō-Zak nodded, his gold-flecked eyes finding Dr. Maven Trance, still waving from the corner, still gesturing for them to follow.
"That way."
They ran.
Behind them, the chaos continued. The Marines regrouped. The Beast Pirates fought on. And somewhere in the distance, a glass jar shattered, a boy transformed, and a girl with silver hair learned that she was stronger than she had ever known.
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