Subject: “The Last-Resort Protocol.”
Status: The System Wakes Up.
After the destruction of the containment dome in Door 22,
the Failsafe went silent.
Not inactive.
Not defeated.
Just… listening.
Eglantine said,
“That’s the quiet before something ancient remembers its purpose.”
At 08:06, every light in the Market flickered.
Not festive flickering.
System flickering.
Then, over the tannoy speakers—
which nobody has touched since 2017—
a voice echoed:
“PROTECTIVE OVERRIDE ENGAGED.”
“RELEASING SENTINELS.”
Blue whispered,
“Sentinels? We have sentinels?”
Corvus whispered,
“...oh this is going in the book.”
From beneath the cobblestones of Snowflake Lane,
from behind long-ignored utility hatches,
from the roots of the enormous central Christmas tree—
the ground shifted.
Panels slid aside.
And objects rose from below:
Festive Constructs.
Dormant for decades.
Woken by the system to contain whatever threatened Midwinter.
They looked like decorations at first—
oversized baubles, nutcracker forms, giant tin soldiers—
but their eyes glowed with the same amber-gold as the Failsafe itself.
And then they moved.
Marching into formation.
Locking onto a single point:
Keith.
One construct announced:
“PRIMARY VARIABLE: ESCALATING.”
“PROBABILITY OF FURTHER DAMAGE: 99.4%.”
“INITIATING TARGET SUPPRESSION.”
Keith blinked.
Once.
His tail curled.
His wings unfurled slow and deliberate.
Brin whispered behind him,
“…this is so cool.”
(Brin was immediately pulled back by Blue like a misbehaving toddler.)
The Sentinels advanced, humming with contained power.
The central unit—a towering tin soldier—declared:
“YOU HAVE EXCEEDED FESTIVE TOLERANCES.”
“RETURN TO COMPLIANCE.”
Keith tilted his head.
His pupils narrowed to slits.
A tiny spark flickered at the back of his throat.
And then he said,
very calmly:
“No.”
At 08:12, the Sentinels charged.
Keith took to the air, spiralling between them.
Fire arced in controlled bursts—
not wild, not angry—
precise.
Deliberate.
Targeted at joints, seams, cores.
Corvus screamed,
“OH HE’S LEARNING THEIR PATTERNS—HE’S LEARNING THEM—”
Brin cheered,
“GET THEM YOU TINY GOD.”
Eglantine remained perched, watching the choreography of chaos with grim satisfaction.
But the Sentinels were built for this.
For threat mitigation.
For escalation.
One aimed a beam of shimmering festive energy straight at Keith—
the kind designed to lock down magical creatures.
Keith dodged once—
twice—
but the third beam clipped his wing.
He dropped, landing hard.
The ground shook.
Blue screamed his name.
The Sentinels closed in.
And the Failsafe, for the first time, sounded almost… smug:
“GOODBYE, CHAOS SOURCE.”
Keith lifted his head—
eyes blazing—
and growled:
“I’m not your enemy.”
The constructs hesitated.
Just for a beat.
Just long enough for Eglantine to murmur:
“…he’s telling the truth. They’re listening.”
Door 23 ends.
The final revelation waits behind Door 24.
