It was 5 a.m., and Zoe was in deep sleep, sprawled out on her couch with Snacks comfortably snoring on her stomach when her BytePhone buzzed to life, its obnoxious ringtone cutting through the early morning silence.
The ringtone—a pirate's shanty that she'd specifically set for Charby—blared repeatedly, but Zoe was dead to the world.
Snacks perked up first, lifting his head with a curious chirp as the phone buzzed and sang on.
Charby wasn't giving up.
Snacks nudged Zoe, poking at her cheek with his snout. No response.
He huffed, determined, and climbed onto her chest, bouncing slightly as if trying to wake her with sheer force. Still nothing.
The ringtone blasted again, and Snacks glanced at the phone, his little tail lashing like an annoyed cat's.
He pawed at Zoe's ear, chirping loudly, then pulled on her messy bun.
Zoe only let out a half-hearted grumble and turned her head to the side, still deeply asleep.
Snacks sighed dramatically, then leapt off, his wings flapping for a little extra lift.
He skittered to the BytePhone, pawing at it until, miraculously, his little paw answered it.
Charby's face filled the screen and Snacks chirped excitedly, his ears perking forward as he sniffed the phone, "Snacks! Arrr, get Zoe!"
The little dragon tilted his head, then flapped his wings, leaping onto the couch and pawing at Zoe's face with renewed gusto.
She groaned, turning away, burying herself deeper into the cushions.
"Zoe!" Charby's voice echoed through the phone, more insistent.
Snacks, now truly desperate, gave Zoe a hard poke, then, for good measure, pulled her earlobe with his tiny claws.
She swatted at him in her sleep, mumbling incoherently.
Finally, Snacks took a deep breath, leaped up, and bellowed as loudly as his tiny lungs would allow, right next to her ear: "Snacks! Snacks!"
Zoe jerked awake with a start, her eyes wide, her heart pounding from the sudden noise.
"Whazzit—what's going on?!" she mumbled, blinking blearily around, still disoriented. She saw Snacks staring at her, his eyes wide and triumphant, and groaned. "Ugh, Snacks, did you really just..."
"Zoe!" Charby's voice came from the phone on the end table.
Zoe groaned, half-conscious, as she fumbled blindly for the phone, knocking it off the table before managing to find it and peer at it with one half-open eye.
Charby's carefully sculpted, pointy hair lay flat on his scalp, soaking wet. "Zoe!"
"Charby? This better be good," she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.
"Zoe! I need help—me restaurant's overrun by these scurvy little imp rats!" Charby's voice came through, frantic. The background clatter sounded like chairs being knocked over and dishes breaking. "They're makin' a mess—spillin' the grog, frightenin' the early mornin' patrons. It's pure mayhem in here, matey!"
"All right, all ri-i-ight" Zoe managed through a yawn. "Don't get your flag in a knot, Charby." She stretched, wincing as her back popped in several places. "I'll call my crew, which one?"
"Parkman, just down the road from ye." Charby perked up, his red eyes shining.
Zoe summoned some pirate talk from somewhere in the fog surrounding her brain. "Batten down the hatches as much as you can, I'll fetch me crew."
"Yer a lifesaver, Lass." Charby managed a grin then the phone fell with a clatter, leaving Zoe looking at the bottom of a table with a wad of what suspiciously looked like chewing gum stuck to it. A fist swung into view. "Arrr, you scurvy scalawag, get yer mitts off me light!"
A loud crash sounded then he was back. "Please hurry, lass."
"I'll try." Zoe hung up.
Zoe frowned, staring at her messy living room as she tried to shake off the last bit of sleep. "Ugh, looks like I'm on imp duty now," she muttered, grabbing her gear and getting ready to rally the rest of the team.
Zoe arrived first, sluggishly kicking the stand into place before leaning heavily against the handlebars.
She blinked at the early morning light, still trying to fully wake up.
With a sigh, she pulled a cup of coffee from her snack vault, the fresh steam swirling in the crisp air.
She inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma, grateful for the stasis magic that kept it perfectly hot.
One long sip later, she felt the first hint of life returning to her body.
Then Serria arrived, annoyingly chipper, pulling up in a Ford Focus that looked like it just rolled off the car lot. She hopped out, practically beaming. "Morning, Zoe!"
Zoe managed a half-human grunt in response, her eyes half-lidded as she took another long sip of her coffee. She blinked, trying to shield her eyes from the glint of the early sun bouncing off a sleek Dodge Durango as it pulled in.
Gavin threw it in park, stepping out with the kind of energy that made Zoe question if he secretly had a stash of magic coffee she didn't know about. He looked far too awake, a bright grin on his face as he waved at them.
Snacks chirped happily, his wings fluttering as Gavin approached.
"Well, at least one of you knows how to greet someone," Gavin mock pouted, bending down to give Snacks a light scratch on his head.
Zoe mustered up a half-hearted wave, her hand flopping miserably before falling back down. "Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it," she muttered, taking another bracing gulp of her coffee.
Across the street, a huge white and green WRTA city bus pulled up with a rumble, its side blazing with an ad for insurance.
The door opened with a loud hiss, and Rogerick stepped off, looking as casual as if he'd just gotten out of a limo. Zoe snorted, watching as he adjusted his cloak.
"That your ride, Rogerick?" Gavin called out, raising an eyebrow.
Rogerick shrugged, unfazed. "Temporary arrangement," he said, giving the bus a nod as it drove off. "Public transportation has its perks—especially when it keeps you untraceable."
Zoe rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her coffee. "Only you could make a city bus sound like some secret agent's getaway."
She led the way inside and stopped dead, the others bumping into her and peering around her curiously.
The restaurant looked like a battlefield.
Tables lay overturned, chairs scattered in every direction, while pirate-themed decorations were either ripped apart or dangling from the walls.
The tiny, horned imps were everywhere—skittering across tabletops, swinging from the curtains, and sending plates flying like frisbees.
One imp clung to the main light fixture, kicking its legs and cackling in manic delight as the fixture swung back and forth.
Another was perched atop the bar, pelting half-eaten bread rolls at the patrons who cowered behind an overturned booth.
Charby ducked as an imp launched itself off a shelf, landing with a crash on a stack of clean plates that exploded into shards.
The chaos had even the bravest customers diving for cover.
It was pure, gleeful destruction.
Charby, dressed in his usual pirate garb with his signature blue-striped shirt, rushed over as soon as he spotted them.
His hair was plastered to his head, slick with yesterday's used oil, which dripped from his clothes.
The smell of stale, rancid oil surrounded him like he just lost a battle with a deep fryer.
Bits of burnt food clung to his shirt, and his expression was equal parts frazzled and furious.
"Blasted imps caught me mid-dumpin' the oil," he grumbled, gesturing at himself. "Knocked me right over—felt like I was swimming in last night's fish fry."
He went on, jabbing his finger at Snacks. "Zoe, these scurvy imps be after Snacks, I swear! They went as mad as a crew on rum ration day when they clapped eyes on 'im!"
Zoe looked at Snacks, perched comfortably on her shoulder, his bright eyes taking in the chaos. He chirped curiously, tilting his head at one of the imps that seemed to be sizing him up from across the room.
"Well, it's time to fix this," Zoe said, rolling up her sleeves. "Rogerick, think you can set some traps or something?"
Rogerick grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "This is my kind of job." He opened his pack, pulling out small enchanted nets and ropes. "Let's get these things under control."
Gavin took his sword and nodded toward Serria. "You ready to herd these things into Rogerick's traps?"
Serria cracked her knuckles, her grin widening like a pirate ready to board a ship. "You bet. Let's teach these imps some manners."
Zoe winced and shot Serria an annoyed glare. "Must you make your fingers sound like you're breaking every bone in 'em?"
With a mischievous smile, Serria cracked both thumbs at once, the loud pop echoing in the chaos. Zoe shuddered, visibly recoiling. "It's how I limber up, just like getting ready to hoist the sails."
"Ugh," Zoe groaned. "You're worse than my dad. He used to do that before every little project, like it was some battle prep."
The chaos only intensified. Napkins flew as a few imps figured out how to empty the dispensers.
Rogerick darted between tables, slipping traps into corners with the swift precision of someone who'd done this countless times.
Gavin lunged forward, swinging the flat side of his blade to direct imps toward Serria, who caught them with ease. She hoisted an imp high, its little legs flailing, before launching it effortlessly into one of Rogerick's nets.
"Incoming!" Serria shouted, her grin wide as another imp sailed through the air.
Rogerick's hands were a blur as he caught it in his net, tying it off with a practiced twist.
The imp hissed, but Rogerick barely blinked, already moving to catch the next one.
"Incoming!" Serria called, sending another squirming imp flying through the air.
Rogerick caught it deftly in one of his nets, tying it closed as the imp hissed.
Snacks, meanwhile, had decided to join in on the fun.
He dashed after a pair of imps, his wings fluttering with excitement as he tried to mimic their movements.
One second, Snacks was chasing an imp under a table, and the next, the imp was chasing him.
Zoe found herself alternately amused and exasperated, trying to keep track of where Snacks had gone and making sure he wasn't adding to the problem.
"Snacks! Get over here!" she called, her voice slightly hoarse from yelling over the noise.
The little dragon, in true form, ignored her completely, instead jumping onto a table and chirping at a cluster of imps who screeched and scattered.
Rogerick worked efficiently, setting down his traps and leading imps straight into them with the ease of someone who had done this kind of thing a hundred times before.
Zoe couldn't help but notice the way he moved—his careful precision, the way he seemed to anticipate where the imps would flee.
It made her wonder just how much experience Rogerick really had with creatures like this.
Just as things looked to be calming down, a pair of imps ripped their fellows free, setting off a wild chain reaction.
The imps turned rowdier than ever, screeching and scrambling as they latched onto Snacks, tugging at his wings and tail.
The poor little dragon let out a distressed squeal, his eyes wide with panic.
The Loom dinged. [Short-range paralysis spell unlocked: Anchor's Hold]
Zoe's eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, and she let out an annoyed groan.
She knew she had to act—especially since Snacks was at risk—but that didn't make her want to move any faster.
The Loom dinged again, the notification lingering in her vision.
"Ugh, fine, fine, I'll deal with it," she muttered, rubbing her eyes and summoning her staff.
The staff appeared in her hand, the weight almost making her arm sag.
She yawned, stretching one last time before squaring her stance, her eyes narrowing as determination finally took hold.
"Anchor's Hold!" she bellowed, her voice louder than her usual lazy tone, the spell's power flaring from her staff. The energy shot out, shimmering across the imps and Snacks, freezing them all in an instant.
Zoe trudged forward, scooping up Snacks with a tired but protective grip. "You little troublemaker," she muttered, scratching his head. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the paralyzed imps toward Serria. "All yours."
After what felt like an eternity of chasing, tossing, and trapping, the last imp was finally netted, struggling briefly before going still.
Rogerick tied it off and gave a satisfied nod. "That's the last of them."
Charby emerged from behind the counter, his hair still plastered to his head with oil. He looked odd without his normally spiky hairstyle, which took him an hour with gel and hairspray to perfect. "You all are lifesavers," he said, rushing over to where the group stood, Snacks perched proudly on Zoe's shoulder. "Honestly, if you hadn't come by, I don't know what I'd have done. These little scallywags were relentless."
The patrons came out from under the booths and let out a cheer.
Serria wiped her brow and smirked. "Well, at least we gave them a workout," she said, glancing at Gavin, who was still catching his breath. "And you, Gavin, better work on those reflexes."
Gavin shot her a look, then shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. At least I didn't almost throw one into the kitchen fryer."
Zoe chuckled, patting Snacks on the head. "I think we need a 'No Imps Allowed' sign for the restaurant now, Charby."
Charby laughed, nodding. "I'm putting that on my list," he said, then turned to Zoe, his expression softening slightly. "You know, Zoe, I'm proud of you. I know things have been rough, but you're becoming someone people can count on."
Zoe blinked, taken aback by his words. She wasn't used to recognition, especially not like this. Before she could respond, Rogerick spoke up.
"He's right, you know," Rogerick said, his tone casual but sincere. "You're making a name for yourself. People notice when someone's willing to help—and trust me, I usually prefer to stay unnoticed." He paused, giving her a nod. "But I respect what you're doing."
Zoe didn't know how to feel about that—a strange mixture of pride and unease settled in her chest.
She glanced at her friends, who were still catching their breath, all of them smiling.
This wasn't just her mission; it was their mission. They were a team.
"Arrr, what are we standin' around like landlubbers for, ye lazy lot?" Charby bellowed, raising a foam hook high above his head. He gave his staff a hard stare, his red eyes flashing. "Look alive, maties! The scurvy imps are contained, and we got a ship to put back in order. Once we're shipshape, it'll be time for some free grub to make the patrons forget this mess!"
Just as they began to finally relax, Rogerick's eyes narrowed at something on the ground—a small trinket, glowing faintly where it had fallen from one of the imps' pouches. He picked it up, examining it closely.
"This..." Rogerick held up the trinket for the others to see. "It's tied to the shard's magic. I think we need to find out what this means."
The team gathered around, curiosity piqued. Whatever lay ahead, they knew one thing—they'd be facing it together.