The night grew heavier as a strange mist enveloped the palace.
Deep in the hidden library, Gerah found herself pulled once again to the enchanted book—the same one she unknowingly began writing in her world. Now, the pages moved on their own, bleeding ink and rearranging scenes she swore she never wrote.
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“What is this…?”
“Someone’s rewriting my story.”
Meanwhile, Xavier couldn’t sleep. His dreams were filled with blurred images—of Gerah crying, of Mara holding a knife, of a burning crown.
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He awoke in a sweat.
“She’s in danger.”
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Back in the servant’s quarters, Dahlia noticed the odd behavior of the castle staff. Anya, normally cheerful, stared blankly out the window, whispering names in her sleep.
“They're all becoming... characters,” Dahlia murmured. “As if someone else is controlling us.”
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Jiru appeared, overhearing her.
“Because someone is.”
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That same night, Mara met the cloaked figure again. This time, she held the book—Gerah’s book—and demanded,
“Erase her. Let me be the chosen one.”
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The cloaked figure simply replied,
“Even stories fight back when you force them.”
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He opened the book, revealing something Mara hadn’t expected:
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“Your name is fading."
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Mara gasped.
Her own pages were vanishing, dissolving into nothing.
“You can’t rewrite fate without consequences.”
Gerah, feeling the shift in energy, grabbed a quill and ink.
“I started this. Now I’ll finish it.”
She dipped her quill and whispered,
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“If this world listens to its writer... then let the real story begin again.”
The moment the ink hit the page, a gust of wind rushed through the palace. Lights flickered. Paintings tilted. And far across the land, people paused—as if waking from a dream.
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The camera pans on the enchanted book, glowing. On its cover, a new title appears:
The Rise of the Side Princess
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