The moment the quill symbol finished carving beside Lina's name, the underwing changed.
Not the stone.
Not the air.
The way reality behaved around her.
The Runic Grave wall pulsed once—slow, satisfied—like a heartbeat confirming a new infection.
LINA VERIS — 7 DAYS — 🖋️
The quill icon glowed faintly, and Lina felt it inside her skull like a pen scratching behind her eyes.
A thought slid out of place.
Not a memory.
A fact.
The kind of thing you never question until it isn't there.
Lina blinked hard, dizzy.
Kai's hand tightened around hers instantly, anchoring. "Say your name."
Lina swallowed, throat dry. "Lina Veris."
Kai's voice was low, fierce. "Again."
"Lina Veris."
"Stay real," Kai whispered.
"I'm here," Lina rasped.
For a breath, the pen-scratch sensation eased.
Then Mira—clinging to Lina's arm—whispered shakily, "Lina…"
And stopped.
Her brow furrowed.
She stared at Lina's face like she was trying to match it to a file that kept rearranging itself.
Lina's blood went cold. "Mira?"
Mira's lips parted. "I… I know you. I do. It's just—" Her eyes filled with tears, panic rising. "Your voice is… slipping."
🕯️
Memory burn and name rewrite colliding—like the academy was ripping pages out of Mira's mind and rewriting the margins of Lina's existence at the same time.
Seren's eyes widened, glowing. "The Quill isn't just targeting Lina's memories. It's targeting everyone's ability to hold Lina."
Reyon's voice cracked behind his mask. "That is… aggressively rude."
Mirror Kai stepped closer, calm and perfect, as if the underwing belonged to him.
"You see?" he murmured gently. "It's easier if you stop fighting."
Lina's flame hissed under her skin, black edging gold.
Kai—real Kai—stiffened beside her, outline still faintly unstable from the mirror pull.
"Don't listen," Kai rasped. "It wants you pliable."
The Veilbound voices drifted from the shadows—many mouths, one intent:
"The Quill corrects errors," it whispered. "And Lina Veris… is an error."
Lina's stomach turned.
She looked up at the Runic Grave wall.
Her line didn't sit like the others.
It flickered.
As if it couldn't decide whether she belonged on the ledger or not.
Then new writing began to appear beneath her name—small, precise, like footnotes added to a life.
FACT: Lina Veris was never admitted to Aetherion Academy.
Lina's breath stopped. "What—"
Kai's grip tightened. "No. That's the rewrite. Don't accept it."
Seren whispered, shaking, "If it writes enough facts, the academy will treat them as true."
Reyon's laugh came out thin. "Oh, cool. It's bureaucracy magic."
The underwing's runes pulsed.
And Lina felt the first symptom:
Rejection.
The runic bands along the wall—those dense containment spirals—flickered when she stepped near, like they were deciding whether to recognize her.
A nearby Guardian statue turned its head a fraction toward Lina.
Not watching the corridor anymore.
Watching her.
Lina's skin prickled.
Then another line carved itself:
FACT: Lina Veris is a threat to Founder stability.
Then another:
FACT: Lina Veris's name may be reassigned.
Lina's chest tightened. "Reassigned to who?"
Mirror Kai smiled softly.
"To me," he murmured.
Kai—real Kai—went rigid. "No."
Lina's bone-tether pulsed painfully, like a leash being tugged from the inside. She felt the pull toward Mirror Kai—subtle, persuasive.
Because the Quill wasn't only rewriting Lina.
It was rewriting what her tether meant.
Seren stepped forward, eyes glowing brighter. "I can read the rules," she whispered. "The Quill's rules. I can Echo Borrow the last words written here."
Kai snapped, "Seren, don't—"
Seren's voice shook. "If Lina's being rewritten, we need the manual."
Seren closed her eyes.
Echo Borrowing surged hard, and Lina felt the air in the chamber tighten like a throat.
When Seren spoke, it wasn't fully her voice—older, ink-stained, exhausted:
"A name is a door."
Seren flinched, but kept going.
"A name is permission."
Then the dead voice deepened, colder:
"Rewrite the name, rewrite the world's memory of the person."
Seren's eyes snapped open, horrified. "It's exactly what we thought."
Then another whisper slipped through her mouth—soft, not hers at all, almost amused:
"But the person can write back."
Seren froze. "It spoke back."
Reyon whispered, "That's… comforting? In a nightmare way?"
Kai's gaze snapped to the Runic Grave wall. "Write back how?"
The Quill symbol beside Lina's name glowed brighter, as if hearing them.
Ink-like shadow seeped across the stone—forming thin figures that looked like people made of handwritten script.
Reyon's sticky illusions reacted, feeding the ink—his fear residue giving the Quill shapes.
The ink-figures moved, crawling along the wall like words escaping a page.
One lifted its head and spoke with a voice Lina recognized from earlier echoes:
"Don't let them write you."
Seren shuddered. "That's the same last words."
Mira clutched Lina tighter, whispering, "I'm scared."
Lina's mind pulsed with that pen-scratch again.
Another fact began to carve itself:
FACT: Lina Veris is…
The line paused.
Like the Quill was deciding what to turn her into.
Lina's throat tightened.
"Enough," Lina whispered.
Her flame rose—small, controlled—gold edged black.
Kai tightened his grip. "Lina, if you use truth-flame here, Mirror Tax—"
"I know," Lina whispered. "But if I let it write me, I won't be me."
She stepped closer to the Runic Grave wall despite the statues turning.
Despite the runes flickering in rejection.
Despite the ink-figures writhing.
Lina lifted her palm.
Not to burn the wall.
To write.
Her flame thinned into a narrow line—like a pen made of fire.
And she dragged it across the stone beside her own name.
It hissed.
Stone sizzled.
The underwing screamed with runes reacting.
Kai's hand tightened, anchoring her. "Say your name," he rasped urgently.
"Lina Veris," Lina whispered.
Again, louder—forcing it into the air like a claim:
"Lina Veris."
She wrote the letters in flame beside the etched ones—messy, imperfect, alive.
Not elegant.
Not scripted.
Human handwriting in fire.
The Quill symbol flickered violently.
The Veilbound hissed in the dark, angry now.
"No," it whispered. "You don't get to author yourself."
Lina's bones burned.
Mirror Tax slammed into her like a wave.
Not a false memory this time.
A missing piece.
For a heartbeat, Lina couldn't remember the color of Kai's eyes.
Just… blank.
An absence shaped like someone important.
Panic surged.
Kai's voice cut through instantly, urgent and close: "Lina—look at me."
Lina blinked hard, searching his face like she was reading him back into existence.
Kai's eyes—dark, stormy, real—snapped into focus.
Relief hit Lina so hard she almost cried.
Kai whispered, fierce, "Stay real."
"I'm here," Lina gasped, gripping him like a lifeline.
The flame-writing on the wall burned brighter for a second—like it responded to the anchor.
The Quill symbol stuttered.
The new "facts" flickered.
For one breath, the stone ledger hesitated.
Then the Quill fought back.
Ink flooded the line beneath Lina's name, writing faster, harsher, like an angry editor:
LINA VERIS — STATUS: VOID
The letters carved themselves with finality.
Lina stared, heart hammering.
Void.
Not dead.
Not erased.
Worse.
Unrecognized.
Unheld.
Unremembered.
Kai's grip tightened hard. "No."
Seren's voice broke. "If she's void, the academy won't protect her. The runes won't recognize her. The wards—"
Reyon whispered, shaking, "She becomes… background. Like she was never here."
Mirror Kai stepped closer, voice gentle as poison.
"Or," he murmured, "she becomes mine."
The underwing lights flickered.
The Guardian statues turned fully toward Lina.
And the Runic Grave wall pulsed again—like it had just made a decision.
A new line began carving at the bottom of the ledger, fresh and wet with light:
REASSIGNMENT IN PROGRESS: LINA VERIS →
The arrow blinked.
Waiting.
Ready to point.
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.