Celestine was the first to step outside the building, the fading sunset casting an amber halo around her ink-stained armor and dress. She glanced down at herself, her golden eyes tracing the dark smudges that marred the usually pristine fabric. For a moment, she considered cleansing herself; raising her body's temperature with her Sol would make her shine brilliantly.

But caution held her back. There was a chance that hose abominations of ink were sensitive to light. She couldn't risk drawing more of them, not yet. Instead, she took a slow, steadying breath and let the filthy stains remain. A temporary inconvenience was nothing compared to endangering those around her.

In the sudden quiet, she strained to hear any sound, any sign of life beyond the quiet murmurs behind her. Her senses stretched outward, but all she found was oppressive silence, punctuated only by the distant creak of wooden homes and the unsettling whispers of wind.

Her gaze traveled to the surrounding buildings. Those bizarre paintings were everywhere—unnaturally placed portraits, disturbingly realistic. For a brief, hopeful second, she wondered if perhaps this was some strange local custom, a harmless tradition she'd overlooked.

But no, she had been here before, long ago. A forgotten memory tugged gently at her mind, pulling her back to days when she traveled beside her father, young, innocent, and always eager to learn. Logshare had been a stop on one of those distant journeys, not for its politics or its power, but for something simpler, more personal.

Her father had brought her here to meet an artist, an extraordinary, enigmatic figure named Hieronymus Bosch. She recalled the visit now clearly, his gentle smile as he welcomed them, his workshop vibrant with colors and warmth. The kittens he crafted then were small, delicate, adorable creatures—little white fluffs of artistic perfection, animated by his unique gift.

These monsters bore no resemblance to Bosch's creations. Something had twisted them, perverted them. Her heart quickened with sudden dread. Had something happened to him? Could Bosch be at the heart of this nightmare, willingly or not?

She bit her lip, troubled. Perhaps after regrouping with Kaiser and Ivan, she could investigate. Helping Bosch, if he needed it, would surely earn her some rare favor with her father.

A rustle behind her brought Celestine back to reality. She turned, intending to check on Elsie and Aria, only to see the latter emerge, the rescued child cradled gently in her arms. Aria's voice was soft and melodious, humming a gentle lullaby despite the chaos, her expression blissfully relieved.

The child lay unconscious, breathing softly, her wounds fully healed thanks to Elsie. Celestine's heart swelled at the sight, a rare bloom of joy in this bleak day.

But the bloom died instantly. Behind Aria, Elsie's expression shifted sharply, from calm pride to wide-eyed terror.

Before Celestine could utter a single word, Elsie lunged forward, her powerful legs propelling her into Aria's back. Both Aria and the child stumbled, sprawling awkwardly yet safely out of the doorway.

Time seemed to slow. Celestine's eyes widened, horror dawning, as Elsie faced the darkened interior once more. And from within, like a creature clawing free from nightmare, surged another ink-beast, massive and relentless. Its bulk slammed into Elsie like a wave of darkness, sending her crashing violently against the far wall.

"ELSIE!" Aria shrieked from the ground, clutching the child protectively.

Celestine moved instantly, becoming pure, desperate motion. Her feet barely touched the ground as she ignited her sword of brilliant golden light, diving into the house with a wrathful shout.

The creature pinned Elsie viciously, thick black fur rippling with unnatural strength. Its snarling face leaned close, slavering jaws inches from her throat, its claws embedded deeply into her flesh. Yet Elsie fought fiercely, legs kicking furiously, fists pounding relentlessly at its monstrous face.

"Elsie is not your food, filthy beast!" she growled defiantly. "Let Elsie go or Elsie swears she'll tear you apart from the inside!"

The beast roared in answer, spraying black spittle, gripping tighter as its jaws snapped dangerously closer. Elsie's muscles strained beneath her armor, her determined fury unrelenting, but she couldn't break free.

Celestine reached them, her blade flashing with lethal grace, her golden eyes blazing like twin suns. She struck swiftly, her rapier slashing deep into the monster's side, cutting with surgical precision through layers of dense ink and fur.

It shrieked, but its grip did not loosen. Instead, black tendrils erupted wildly from its body, thrashing blindly, battering Celestine and forcing her back.

She grit her teeth, recovering swiftly. This one was different, stronger, fiercer and its ink far denser. It was clearly no ordinary creature, even by these horrific standards.

"Hang on, Elsie!" Celestine called desperately. "I'm coming!"

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Aria stumbled back to her feet, bow in hand, swiftly nocking an arrow. "Let her go!" she cried, firing an arrow of brilliant blue Sol straight into the monster's flank. It howled again, barely faltering, but still pinning Elsie tight.

Elsie's laughter was ragged, crazed yet defiant. "Ha! Elsie told you—this tale is worth every single Sul! With monsters like these, they will surely even up the tier of this Tale! Princess, take your time, Elsie can't be killed by something this ugly!"

Elsie's bravado masked her pain, her breath hitching sharply as the beast pressed harder. Celestine's heart hammered, fear sharpening her movements into deadly clarity.

She lunged again, her Sol surging through her veins, lighting every nerve and muscle with power. Her blade danced like sunlight on water, weaving between the beast's wild thrashing tendrils, cutting them free one by one.

The creature's cries filled the room, violent and piercing, echoing the agony of each precise strike. Yet still it refused to relinquish Elsie, its unnatural strength terrifyingly relentless.

"Elsie!" Aria screamed again, firing another Sol-infused arrow, burying it deeply into the beast's shoulder. "Princess, we have to get her out!"

But Celestine's eyes glowed fiercely, unyielding. "Trust me!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Hold your ground!"

Elsie met Celestine's eyes, wild and fierce and somehow still irreverent, despite everything. "Elsie always trusted the princess! But perhaps hurry, princess!"

Celestine steeled herself, diving beneath another swipe of tendrils, her blade carving deeply into the beast's back. Black ink showered her, burning and thick, but she ignored the pain, pushing deeper into its monstrous body, each cut more brutal and focused than the last.

Finally, with a desperate cry, she lunged upward, driving her radiant blade deep through the beast's shoulder, twisting viciously. The monster shrieked one final, ear-piercing note before collapsing heavily, its form rapidly dissolving into a pool of foul black ink.

The ink-black beast shuddered, its monstrous frame unraveling in a hiss of dissolving shadows. For a breathless moment, the only sound in the ruined house was the slow, sticky drip of ink pooling beneath its bulk. Then, as if some invisible current caught it, the ink began to draw back, twisting, coiling—gathering itself into a single spot on the floor.

There, with a faint ripple, a painting emerged, a disturbingly perfect likeness of Elsie, caught mid-kick, her fierce eyes blazing with defiance, but her face forever frozen in that last moment of struggle.

For several heartbeats, Celestine simply stared, unable to move or breathe, the color draining from her cheeks. Her sword flickered and fell, fingers numb and trembling, as she stumbled toward the portrait. The world around her receded into a dull, hollow silence, broken only by the slow, uneven thudding of her heart. "No… no, no, no," she whispered, her voice barely more than a rasp, knees buckling beneath her as she collapsed beside the painting. She reached for it, her hand hovering inches from the canvas, afraid to touch, afraid she might shatter the last of her new friend.

Celestine's breath caught painfully in her chest, her eyes swimming with tears she refused to let fall. "You can't leave. Not like this…"

Behind her, Aria's own face twisted, horror giving way to a wounded fury. She stared at the painting in disbelief, her whole body trembling. "She—she did it for me," Aria choked, her voice raw and brittle with guilt. "It should've been me. I should've—" But the words crumbled in her throat. Aria pressed a hand over her mouth, struggling to contain the ragged sound that tore free, a sound of something breaking.

For a moment, the room felt impossibly small, the shadows pressing in, ink fumes thick and suffocating.

Then, outside, a clamor shattered the quiet—a thunder of countless paws battering the broken streets. The grief twisting inside Aria flared into something sharper, hotter, fierce enough to burn away her tears. She dashed to the doorway, every muscle taut with rage and resolve, bow already in hand. Her eyes blazed, the tears on her cheeks now indistinguishable from the sweat of battle.

"I'll kill them all. I'll slaughter every last fucking cat," she growled, every word a snarl, her hands shaking with fury and heartbreak. Each syllable was a promise—not to the world, but to Elsie, to Celestine, to the part of herself that refused to surrender.

Celestine lingered by the painting, her fingers finally brushing the surface, cold and slick with ink. She bowed her head, letting one tear fall, her whisper a prayer. "Wait for me, Elsie. I swear to you—I'm not letting this be the end."

She strode into the middle of the room, gold armor catching the fractured light, her tears shining defiantly on her cheeks. She didn't bother to hide them. "We're not finished. Not until this nightmare is over. Aria, guard the door. Keep the child safe. Elsie… she's not gone. Not yet. There's still a way, there has to be… But if those things get in—if even one gets close—"

Aria's lips tightened, her whole body trembling with the effort to hold herself together. "Should we… should we try to barricade ourselves? Wait it out?I can snipe them trough the cra—" Her voice was raw, pleading for a plan, any plan that wasn't simply surrender.

Celestine shook her head, a haunted certainty in her golden eyes. "No. That big one—it got Elsie because I never sensed it. Its Sol was hidden. If we hole up here, they'll just surround us. That's what they want." She pressed the painting carefully against the far wall, behind her, out of harm's way.

Together, they stepped outside, and from the alleys, the fields, from beneath broken porches and shattered windows, they came, hundreds of ink-cats, every shape and horror, teeth glistening, tongues writhing, eyes watching.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Celestine turned, a brittle smile on her lips, like a queen facing her execution. "Hold the house, Aria. Protect the kid, keep her with you, and whatever you do, don't let any of them past you. There's still a chance. Maybe we can save Elsie. If any of those things start coming out of the house, you fall back to me. Each of those monsters carries enough Sol that even you can sense them."

"How long do I hold them?" Aria asked, voice hard as steel.

Celestine grinned, fierce and proud, her Sol blazing in her palm. "For as long as it takes for Kaiser to come. And if he doesn't—then until there's nothing left to fight."

With that, she flung her hand skyward, a blazing orb of pure light erupting into the sky above them. It burst high overhead, like a miniature sun. The ink-cats shrieked and recoiled, if only for a moment, as the true battle for Logshare began.

Aria braced herself, bow taut, eyes wild and unbroken. "You heard the princess, you bastards. Come on. Come and die."

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