ASHES OF THE LUNA QUEEN
The Inkblade in her hand shivered, not in fear, but in tension like it recognized its parent, like it wanted to be used, Her breath came hard, The tower around her cracked under the weight of too many unwritten choices.
And then the voice returned. “You are not real.”
“You were a deviation. A contradiction.”
“An accident.”
She raised her blade. “I am what came after the accident.”
The Quill lunged, Its massive tip dragged through the air like a comet of deletion, slicing toward her, screaming with wind and will.
Liora dove rolled and slashed, Her blade collided with the Quill, And the world shuddered, The impact created a blast of inkfire that shattered dozens of lines mid-script. The air sc
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