Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
I said.
I tightened my grip.
The words around us shuddered.
Letters peeled off sentences, coalescing in the air like iron filings drawn to a magnet. Fragments of my lines—hers, his, theirs—snapped into crude order around the glowing pen, hesitating, waiting.
I drew a breath.
And, for the first time here, instead of letting the Game write *me*, I wrote back.
“Up,” I said.
Not out loud.
On the page.