The Wrath Ring fairgrounds were a cacophony of noise and color.
Barbed carnival prizes hung from crooked stalls. Sizzling vats of "food" filled the air with the stench of scorched meat, grease, and sulfur. Nearby, makeshift arenas hosted brutal tournaments where contestants fought tooth-and-claw for cash, pride, or simply for the hell of it.
This wasn't some mortal festival.
Here, if it didn't draw blood, it wasn't considered fun.
Max and Loona drifted along the edge of it all, towering heads above the sea of imp-sized festivalgoers. Loona scrolled lazily on her phone, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as a group of imps tackled one another into a muddy pit, their cheers turning into screams of laughter and pain.
"Gotta admit," she said, tail swishing behind her, "even if the food here looks like garbage, watching these psychos beat each other senseless is kinda entertaining."
Max chuckled, folding his arms.
"Wrath's motto seems to be: if it doesn't kill you, it's a good time."
They stayed clear of the main event area — far enough not to interfere with whatever disaster Blitzø was currently orchestrating, but close enough that Loona could hear her dad's whistle if, or more likely when, he got himself into trouble.
As the crowd roared around them, Loona's stomach betrayed her with a soft growl.
She scowled at it.
"Ugh. You still got any of that food you mentioned? The… steak bites?" Her tone stayed casual, though the last word softened just a little.
Max turned to her, amused.
"I do. But I've got a better idea than just handing them to you. Give me your ring."
She frowned.
"Why?"
"So you can stop begging me every time you're hungry," he teased. "Trust me."
Loona hesitated — only for a second — then slipped the silver band from her finger and handed it over.
Power stirred around Max's fingertips. A soft crimson glow laced with shadow pulsed as he murmured a quiet incantation. The metal shimmered, subtly reshaping itself as his magic latched on.
"There," he said, returning it. "Indestructible. Impossible to steal. And directly linked to my shadow storage. Just… give me a minute to organize it."
Before she could ask another question, Max stepped back —
—and melted into his own shadow, vanishing in a ripple of darkness.
Loona blinked, staring at the empty space where he'd stood.
She crossed her arms.
"Could've at least said bye first…"
A few minutes passed.
Then, inevitably, a sharp, shrill whistle cut through the noise of the festival — Blitzø's unmistakable Loona, get your ass over here call.
"Oh, great," she muttered, exhaling smoke. "Here we go again."
---
By the time Loona reached the main barn house, chaos had already erupted.
Gunshots cracked through the air. Blitzø's furious shouting echoed across the fairgrounds. Loona kicked the door open hard enough to rip it from its hinges, sending Moxxie stumbling backward as Striker vaulted cleanly out the window.
"Dammit!" Blitzø shouted, sprinting toward the opening before realizing Striker was long gone.
The floor rippled behind them.
Shadow churned — and Max rose from it as though surfacing from deep water.
Blitzø spun on him, glare blazing hotter than Wrath's sun.
"And where were you, oh so mighty Mr. Overlord?" he snapped, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Max brushed dust from his coat.
"Working on something for Loona. Not that it matters — I couldn't intervene with Striker anyway." His voice darkened. "Though the idiot already tried to kill me once today."
Moxxie blinked, lowering his rifle.
"You knew it was Striker?"
"Yeah," Max said flatly, eyes flicking to the weapon in Moxxie's hands. "Blessed pistol. Same type he used earlier. He's lucky I didn't tear him apart then and there."
Blitzø groaned
"Whatever. Just make sure he doesn't show up again. And—"
He smirked at Loona.
"—try not to fuck during the festival, okay?"
Loona's face burned crimson.
"Dad!"
She stormed out before Max could stop her.
Max arched a brow at Blitzø.
"You really have a way with words."
"Yeah, yeah, bite me," Blitzø muttered, already turning away to yell at Moxxie for something else.
---
Max followed the trail of dust Loona left behind.
He found her leaning against a wooden post near the festival stalls, jaw tight, ears flicking despite herself when she sensed him nearby.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
"I'll murder the next person who brings that up," she muttered, kicking a rock. Then, after a pause:
"So… you gonna teach me how this shadow-food thing works or what?"
Max grinned.
"Gladly. Find a dark spot. Focus on what you want. Reach in. It'll feel cold — like chilled water — and the food'll show up."
"Sounds weird," she said, glancing skeptically at the shadow cast by a nearby stall.
Curiosity won.
She crouched, pressing her clawed hand toward the darkness. Her fingers slid through it like black liquid.
She flinched.
"It's cold! And… kinda sticky?"
"You get used to it," Max said, smirking.
Her hand brushed something warm. Solid.
She pulled back, staring at the steaming handful of perfectly cooked steak bites in her palm. The smell made her eyes light up before she could stop herself.
She popped one into her mouth.
"Oh, holy hell," she growled softly, eyes half-lidded. "…That's really good."
Max chuckled.
"I reorganized everything so you wouldn't grab something raw. Or worse — one of Octavia's rats"
Loona froze mid-chew.
"You keep living things in there?"
"Nah," Max said, lifting his gaze to the crimson Harvest Moon. "Anything alive gets frozen. Nothing survives long in the space between shadows. Food's safe, though."
She grabbed another handful.
"Good enough for me."
"Eat all you want," Max said quietly, draping an arm around her shoulders. "I might be broke topside now, but it was worth it. Bought out half a warehouse district just to stock it for you girls."
Loona leaned into him, tail flicking as Wrath's fiery glow bathed them both in amber light.
For once, neither of them spoke.
Just two out-of-place souls, sharing a quiet moment in a world built for chaos.