A surge of power sparks through my fingertips, strange and alive, and the world finally bleeds into color. The space between me and Amara shrinks; it no longer feels like she's a universe away.
I'm the one who decides fate. Not the system. Not some god. Me—Quill. If I want Amara, then I'll have her, even if it means tearing the universe apart. Maybe I don't even know if it's love yet, but I can't look into those eyes, shining with tears, and do nothing.
The quill slides into shape at my fingertips, beating like a star caught in my grip. I move my hand through the air, forcing my heart to follow, forcing my power to answer. I am the strongest. I am the author.
The world shudders with me as the strength I buried comes roaring back. Amara's eyes flare like suns, and in that brilliance, I see the loneliness I want to crush beneath my will.
