Breeze had only gone Celestial once in her life. 

She could remember the night strangely clearly, hearing herself screech and cry, kicking and clawing at nothing while her siblings, terrified, tried vainly to hold her down. Her own parents had backed away from her, watching as their little flying fox kit hissed and snapped at them, practically deaf to their pleads. 

She remembers running outside, static and color buzzing in her vision, tears streaming from her eyes as the unnatural tantrum ran its course. They’d called the Order of the Moon to take her, to scrape inky runes into her wings, to siphon the magic away and bring her back to her senses for good. 

It still haunts her, and she’d never wish it on anyone, not even Index.

Even so, the bat could hardly compare her own trauma to Tick. 

‘Sparkyrs don’t go Celestial,’ she’d thought. ‘They can’t.’ 

That’s what she’d been told hundreds of times, on Starless Nights, walking through nigh abandoned parks with her Pix friend. He’d reassured her, each and every time, that he’d never be one of them, even when she broke down recalling her horrific experience, when he sat down with her at a bench, cupping her tear-stained face in his paws, whispering reassurance to her. 

But words could do nothing to stop the moon. 

The moon had no qualms against hurting people, even on Movie Night.

A mere thirty minutes into the first movie, Breeze’s nightmare came true.

She’d only had a moment to react as Tick’s violet eyes filled with a distant fear, his entire frame quivering. Concerned, the bat reached to pause the television, but a spastic flick from her axolotl friend’s tail sent the remote flying.

“Tick?” the name left her lips breathlessly, worry and terror swirling and settling into the pit of her stomach. “Are you okay?”

“Get out,” he hissed. His screen glitched, and the axolotl creature shuddered, dozens of fizzling images dancing across the interface. “Now.”

Breeze found herself stepping closer, reddish eyes stinging with tears. Millions of questions buzzed through her head, and she absently touched the scarred rune on her good wing, feeling the protective magic blossoming to life. 

“Tick, what are you-”

“Breeze, just get out!” It was then that he shoved the flying fox, a little harder than he meant to, error signs filling his screen. 

Blind with fear, Breeze could hardly recall what happened next. 

She could vaguely remember dashing through the door just as the last bit of sentience left the Sparkyr’s eyes, her own discolored gaze blurring with tears. Phantom sensations of scraping and clawing ripped at her wings, and she slammed the door, barricading it with her own body. 

Inhuman, electronic howls bellowed from within the room, and the Gothic bat buried her head into her wings, whispering reassurances to herself. 

“Tick, please don’t do this...”

The Celestial only responded with a horrible shriek, a ragged, animalistic cry alerting the flying fox to how far gone he was. 

“You said you’d never slip.” Breeze’s voice was hollow as the corrupted Pix clawed at the door, her mind swimming with hopes that his sapience hadn’t remained enough for him to figure out the door handle. “You said you wouldn’t, and I believed it.”

This wasn’t the first time an empty promise had hurt her. Harmful memories of a friendship gone wrong stabbed at her heart, and the flying fox sighed shakily, listening as the Celestial axolotl’s raging cries started to calm. It wasn’t sunrise yet, but Breeze reasoned that the less than reliable battery life of Sparkyrs was shining through, even with the added adrenaline. 

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she hissed. She knew that he couldn’t understand her now, but it felt good to vent, easing her worries as she talked over the creature’s pathetic growls.

As the remaining noise began to quiet, Breeze stood, wiping her eyes. A bit of fear crept in the back of her mind, and she sighed, turning to face the door. Without a second thought, she opened the door, ready to face whatever was inside.

The second time is at the park. Breeze is a bit wiser, a bit more cautious, watching the moon with a glare even as Tick carries on, almost oblivious of the impending danger. 

Not even Azalea has shown its glow, and the flying fox silently hopes that Tick won’t be impacted by Celeste tonight, if only to rekindle the trust between them. She won’t admit it, but a foreign sensation of fear sends chills down her spine when he looks at her now, as if he was dangerous. 

She has to stop herself from screaming when the first error message pops up. 

Tick swats at his own face, as if he could shoo the glitch away, laughing nervously as the pair crosses under some low-hanging tree branches. Normally, Breeze would have laughed when her tall friend’s solar panel gills got tangled in the branches, but she can only stare as more and more fizzling images flash across his screen, annoyance painting his bright features momentarily. 

“What’s wrong?” She doesn’t know why she asks, but the question leaves her blankly, a small frown curving at the corners of her mouth. 

Startled, the axolotl looks to her, a trace of paranoid worry flickering in his eyes, which are already starting to look vacant. The corruption’s slower this time, and Breeze squints when she catches a glimpse of a half-done Moon Rune messily scratched into one of Tick’s gills, as if he’d tried to do it himself. 

Despite herself, she grabs him by the arm, yanking him down to her level to see the messy shape, ignoring the fear building in her heart. 

“What did you do to yourself?” she growls. Her eyes dart between Tick’s hollow gaze and the pattern, skepticism welling up in her even as the rune glimmers weakly, vainly attempting to ward off the impending Celestial transformation. 

“I wanted you to trust me again.” 

He knows Sparkyrs aren’t supposed to be affected, even as the lights on his screen and around his wrists and ankles begin to shine unnaturally. Breeze wants to scold him, but it’s too late. 

Tick whimpers, “I’m sorry,” and then he’s gone, the Celestial yanking his arm from Breeze as it collapses onto all fours, electronic beeping filling the air. 

It’s as if the axolotl’s AI has been overwritten, the concern and regret in his gaze fading quickly into rage, all of which directed at Breeze. 

The Moon Rune scraped into his gills pulses weakly, but Breeze knows that it can’t affect him anymore. It shouldn’t be able to; he’s a Sparkyr.

Screeching, the corrupted being narrows its eyes at the flying fox, who backs away, the flashbacks already resurfacing and blurring her vision. 

“Tick... it’s me...” she tries, but the lumbering victim only hisses, its only warning before it starts to race towards her. 

Breeze can only remember the adrenaline rushing through her, her wings pumping the air as she flew, far from her friend, taking to the sky for the first time in years. 

The memories of the last two times were enough to send Breeze running when a third Starless Night fell. 

Surely it was justified when she fled, slamming the door in Tick’s face. 

Surely it was right to block his desperate pleas out with angered screams. 

It had to be okay, had to be the best choice to pretend he wasn’t there, if only to block out the memories. 

But when minutes passed, and no screams were heard but her own, the bat began to question her own fear, doubting herself when all she heard was a small tapping noise, like the sound of someone drumming their fingers against a table when bored. 

When she stopped yelling, voice hoarse and dry, all she heard was tapping...

She cracked the door open, expecting a Celestial to be found. Her heart quickened with anxiety as moonlight poured from within the room, almost like a haze as something within shifted. 

She didn’t dare call out to Tick, forcing her shudders to cease as she peered inside, eyes narrowed. The magical light around her was siphoned away the longer she stood, the crescent moon on her wing glimmering. 

It wasn’t until the flying fox stepped fully into the room that she saw him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his tail swishing calmly. Not a single glitch or error marred his screen, the tiny, messy Moon Rune on his top-left-most gill shining. It’s a bit less scribbled now, Breeze having helped fix it, though she knew it wouldn’t help anyway.

Breeze had always wondered why a supposedly pure-blooded Sparkyr had been able to go Celestial, why it had taken so long to take effect. 

“Hey, Breeze,” he greeted softly. 

Something about his serene smile wasn’t right, and the Gothic bat had to suppress a scream when he grinned widely to reveal a mouth full of shining fangs.