Luna lines

metallic in the air. But this time, it's different. The force that led to my losing consciousness feels like a distant memory, and all I can focus on is the sharp, cold clarity that now grips

pine, a feeling that I'm on the precipice of something much larger, much more dangerous than I'd been willing to acknowledge. "There are other people who would do anything to possess the power of the inkwell," Lucien continues, his voice solemn, each word carefully measured. "What other people?" I asked, my alarm growing with each passing second. The fact that I'm able to form a coherent question despite the panic rising in my chest is nothing short of a miracle. Lucien's expression darkens as he carefully spins a coin between his fingers, the motion almost hypnotic. It's a group of powerful individuals who seek to control everything under the sun. They call themselves the Obsidian Order. His words hang heavy in the air, filling the room with a sense of foreboding. The way he says "Obsidian Order" makes it sound like something ancient and unstoppable, a force that has been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. "They've been searching for artifacts like the inkwell for centuries," Lucien continues, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. Their main motive is to eradicate reality so they can reshape it according to their will. Control everything.

efore I can say anything else. His movements are swift, purpos

here?!" I call after him, my voice laced with fea

ike nails on a chalkboard. I wince as Lucien pulls open the

at looks like dried blood. The stench that fills the room is almost unbearable, making me gag. Expired paint. Used to draw different patterns on my