CHAPTER 14:SHADOWS IN THE INK
The corridor grew darker with every step. The gentle golden glow from the carvings dimmed, replaced by a thick, inky haze that slithered along the walls like living mist. Maya gripped the quill tightly, her eyes darting around as a strange chill settled over her skin.
She had read about the Eraser only moments ago, but now, the air itself felt like his presence was near—something foul and ancient, watching her from the shadows beyond sight.
Suddenly, a low whisper broke through the silence.
Not from the walls.
From the ink.
It seeped slowly from the carvings now—bleeding down the stones like tears. It pooled on the floor, forming shapes that writhed and flickered before rising into the air, taking form.
Figures emerged—dark silhouettes with hollow eyes and mouths stitched shut with words. Their bodies looked like torn pages, their limbs made of bent quills and frayed bindings. Maya froze, heart pounding, as they drifted toward her soundlessly.
She stepped back, but there was nowhere to run. The passage behind her had vanished into blackness.
The shadows surrounded her, not attacking… just watching. Waiting.
Maya remembered the words from the carving: "The one who writes will restore or destroy."
She looked down at the blank page in her book. Was this the test? Would she have to write her way out?
With trembling fingers, she dipped the quill into the book's page again. Her thoughts surged into the ink.
She imagined light—warm and golden, a beacon strong enough to chase away the shadows. The quill moved on its own, gliding across the page in swift strokes. The words formed like spellwork:
"Let the light of untold stories rise."
The ink shimmered—and the book glowed.
A surge of golden light erupted from the pages, bursting outward like a sun rising in a starless night. The shadows hissed and reeled, retreating as the light pierced through their bodies, turning them to fading smoke and dissolving them into the air.
The inky haze thinned. The corridor walls brightened again.
The shadows were gone.
Maya fell to her knees, breathless, the quill trembling in her hand. The book pulsed softly, as though assuring her she'd done well.
But she knew it was only the beginning.
The Eraser wasn't just a legend. He was real. The shadows had been his messengers, pieces of his corrupted story, trying to weaken her spirit.
She rose slowly, her gaze narrowing.
If he wanted to twist the stories into nightmares, then she would be the one to rewrite them into hope.
One word at a time.
A new passage appeared ahead—an archway framed by silver vines, shimmering like moonlight on water.
Maya stepped forward.
Her next chapter awaited.