Miyu stared at the brush Kael held out.
It shimmered in the candlelight, silver-tipped with a shaft of dark wood that felt more like bone than timber. The bristles pulsed faintly, as if they breathed.
"This isn't normal ink," Kael said. "It's Shadowroot. It listens to intention. It binds to those who can shape it."
"I don't know how to fight," Miyu said quietly.
"Good," Kael replied, stepping closer. "Then you have nothing to unlearn."
He dropped the brush into her open palm.
The moment her fingers closed around it, the brush grew warm. Symbols stirred across her skin—like invisible ink blooming beneath the surface, crawling up her wrist in soft, glowing lines.
"What is this?"
"Your connection," he said. "Your bond to the ink realm."
Miyu's breathing slowed as something inside her shifted. She felt a pulse of energy—like a heartbeat—but it wasn't hers. It came from the brush, or the ink, or the world itself.
"Try to draw something," Kael said. "Not from memory. Not from fear. Draw what you feel."
A sheet of parchment hovered in the air, floating down to land before her.
Her hand moved on instinct.
She didn't think. She didn't plan.
She just let the brush dance.
In moments, the shape of a large feathered beast appeared—wings stretched, eyes burning with focus. It looked nothing like anything she'd ever seen. It was beautiful. Terrifying.
The moment the final stroke left the page, the ink shimmered—
And the creature stepped off the paper.
Miyu gasped, stumbling back.
The beast unfurled its wings with a crackle of wind and landed on the ground, fully formed, its feathers made of ink and moonlight. It stared at her with strange, ancient eyes.
"It's alive?" she whispered.
Kael nodded. "You summoned it. You commanded it."
"I didn't mean to—"
"That doesn't matter. This realm doesn't wait for meaning. It follows will."
The beast bowed to her.
She blinked, stunned.
Kael stepped forward. "You're not a soldier, Miyu. You're something older. Rarer."
He placed a hand over her chest.
"You're a Storyweaver."
She looked down at the brush in her hand… and for the first time, she didn't feel fear.
She felt power.
And it was only just beginning.
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