Lyra hit the ground in a crouch, dust rippling around her like punctuation.
The unpublished draft in her hand pulsed—lines shifting, glowing, defying classification.
Across from her, Fanfic Lyra narrowed her eyes.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Lyra stood, brushing off ash. "Neither are half the tropes you're made of."
Draft Zero hovered above, voice modulated and cold. "This conflict breaches coherence protocol."
"Good," Lyra said. "Because I'm done being coherent for someone else's comfort."
Behind her—Shadows formed.
But not evil shadows.
Outlines.
Half-finished knights.Side characters cut for pacing.Old Lyras—twisted, failed, forgotten.
And one girl without a name who simply whispered, "I was almost chapter three."
They all stepped forward.
"You called us," the crowd said."We answered."
Kael stared, bloody, half-kneeling beside Aelira.
She was shaking—her rank now flashing:
[Reader Risk Level: CRITICAL – Auto-Delete Pending]
He turned to Lyra.
