The winged beast circled the hollow once, then folded its dark ink-feathered wings and perched beside Miyu. It waited—loyal, quiet, almost protective.
Miyu stared.
I made that.
Kael's voice was low. "Storyweavers are rare, yes—but not infallible. Your creatures come from within you. The more truth you bleed into them, the stronger they are."
She glanced down at her hand, still holding the brush. "And if I draw something dangerous?"
"You'd better be ready to face it."
Kael stepped away into a stone alcove, flicking his fingers. A long scroll floated toward him, unrolling mid-air.
"You're not the first Gateborn," he said. "The Hollow was built by one before you. Decades ago. She painted cities, conjured armies, even tried to rewrite time."
"What happened to her?"
Kael looked at her. "She drew her fear—and it killed her."
Miyu's stomach turned.
But even as her mind raced, her hand moved again—without command, like something deeper had taken over. She pressed the brush to the parchment.
This time, she drew a figure.
Not a beast. Not a monster.
A girl.
She looked… familiar.
Long black hair. A small scar on her lip. Wide, sad eyes.
It was her.
But not her now.
It was her loneliness. Her isolation, curled up in lines and shadows. Her quiet heartbreak, every time she smiled at school and no one looked back.
The ink version of Miyu blinked.
Then smiled.
Her ink self stepped off the page and began to laugh.
It wasn't sweet. It was cruel. Mocking.
Kael moved instantly, but Miyu stopped him.
"I need to see," she whispered.
The ink-Miyu circled her, eyes glowing dark. "Poor little artist. Hiding in your lines. Drawing monsters to protect you."
Miyu flinched.
"You think this world will save you?" the shadow sneered. "You think power changes who you are?"
"I don't know!" Miyu snapped. "I'm still figuring it out!"
For a moment, silence.
Then the ink-Miyu's expression softened—just barely.
"Good."
And with a sigh, she dissolved into mist.
Miyu fell to her knees, breath shaking.
Kael knelt beside her. "That was brave. Reckless. But brave."
"She was me," Miyu murmured. "The part I pretend isn't there."
"And now that you've faced her, the ink will obey you better."
He helped her up.
"Next time," he said, "Draw from your strength. Not your scars."
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