Kael didn't sleep.
He couldn't.
Even hours later, the red mark from the lost chapter still burned faintly on his palm, pulsing in rhythm with a truth he couldn't unsee.
They weren't random.
They weren't flukes.
They were stolen protagonists.
And someone—or something—had written them out.
The Hidden Hand
Eli sat cross-legged on the floor of the annex, flipping through a book marked with the symbol of the Circle of Scribes — the governing magical body of world editors, storytellers, and memory weavers within this realm.
"They call it the Counterforce," Eli said, eyes wide. "A metaphysical failsafe embedded in the narrative layer of this world. It's supposed to 'maintain story balance.'"
Kael rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Maintain it… how?"
"By erasing disruptions. Smoothing contradictions. Replacing unstable characters with compliant ones."
Kael thought of Lira — gone without a trace. A memory devoured by the system that governed this world like an unseen god.
"So it's not just watching us," Kael murmured. "It's editing us."
"And if we push too far…" Eli shut the book with a soft thud. "It'll cut us out for good."
Marked
By mid-morning, students had begun whispering again.
Not about Kael's duel. Not even about the shattered sword.
About the mark.
Red. Split. A strange glyph traced across Kael's palm, barely visible unless the light caught it.
Some called it a curse. Others, a sign of a pact.
But Althea Velmire saw it for what it was.
She summoned Kael to her tower without delay.
Her expression, when she saw the mark, shifted from curiosity to something Kael had never seen in her before:
Fear.
"You touched the Lost Chapter," she said quietly.
Kael didn't deny it.
"That knowledge is dangerous. The last person who tried to retrieve it—"
"Was erased?"
Althea nodded. "Without record. Without echo. It wasn't just the Counterforce. It was Him."
Kael's pulse quickened. "Him?"
Althea hesitated. "They call Him the Editor King. The supreme intelligence of the narrative plane. He was never meant to be a character—he was a failsafe, a guiding hand. But over time… he became sentient."
Kael's voice was barely a whisper. "He rewrote us."
"Yes," Althea said. "He saw what you were. What you could become. And he buried it."
Kael clenched his fist. "Then we'll dig it back up."
Althea stepped closer, her gaze intense. "Be careful, Kael. Stories are fragile things. When they break, they don't always put themselves back together."
The Beginning of War
That night, Kael stood atop the dormitory roof, staring at the stars.
Eli joined him, holding a page he'd torn from the Lost Chapter.
"Look," Eli said, handing it over.
It was an unfinished scene.
"The Hero stands at the gates of Everfall, not to destroy it—but to redeem it."
Kael stared at the words.
Rowan's name was faint in the margins, overwritten by another.
Kael.
He let the wind take the page.
"We don't follow the script anymore," he said.
Eli grinned. "Then it's time we write our own."
And far above them, in a realm beyond sight, the Editor King opened his eyes.
And began to rewrite again.