A strange, electric emotion floods through you.
Something between awe and raw disbelief. It surges through your chest, your limbs, your very sense of self.
Nothing in your old life ever felt like this. Nothing could have prepared you for the sensation of slipping out of your own body and discovering that the rules of this world no longer apply to you.
You decide to test it.
Fire, you think.
Blazing fire.
You close your eyes, focusing on the idea—heat, light, ignition. A tiny spark tingles in your palm. When you open your eyes again, you gasp.
Flames dance in your hand.
Real flames. Bright, warm, alive.
You stare at them, stunned. Wait, you almost forget—
This isn't your physical body. You're still in that ghostlike state, hovering outside yourself, untethered from gravity and time. But if you can do this…
Why not go back?
Why not show those traitors exactly who they're dealing with now?
You glide toward your slumped body, still tied to the chair. The wolves remain frozen in their slow-motion movements, unaware of your presence. You place your ghostly hand on your own shoulder and close your eyes, imagining yourself snapping back into place.
A jolt runs through you.
Your body shudders.
Your eyes open.
You're back—breathing, blinking, tied up again, but fully conscious. The ropes dig into your wrists, but the wolves haven't noticed anything.
Bradley stirs the cauldron. Trida watches the mixture swirl. They're too focused on their ritual to see the shift in your gaze.
You need to escape quietly.
You picture a pair of garden clippers—simple, sharp, silent. The image forms in your mind, and you feel the cool metal materialize in your bound hands.
With careful movements, you snip through the ropes, letting them fall away without a sound.
Your heart pounds, but your steps are steady.
You rise from the chair, slow and silent, slipping behind the wolves like a shadow.
They don't turn.
They don't sense you.
You're no longer just a character in their story…
You're the unwritten one.
And you're about to rewrite everything.