Lightning crackled through the ink-thick sky as Kael stumbled onto a desolate plain of broken typewriters and shredded pages. "This wasn't in our rewrite," she muttered. The others appeared around her, flickering between forms like unfinished edits. "Where are we?" Raj asked. A deep rumble answered, and a towering monolith rose from the paper-dust. Meera stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "That's… a sealed chapter." Engraved on its surface were a thousand names—crossed out, redacted, forgotten. "This is a graveyard," Aarav said quietly. Ravi ran a hand over the monolith. "No. It's a chapter the writer never let live."
Suddenly, the ground heaved, tearing itself open. From the chasm crawled shadowed figures—unfinished characters with half-formed faces, limbs that flickered between existence. One approached, whispering, "Do you remember us?" Kael stepped back. "These are the ones he abandoned." The figure reached out. "We were part of the original draft… then he erased us." Meera clenched her fists. "They're not hostile. Just… forgotten." The sky split again, and a single name burned into the air: Elian. Aarav stiffened. "I know that name." Ravi turned sharply. "He was in the first version of our story. Before the rewrite."
A broken voice echoed. "He still is." From behind the monolith stepped a tall boy with violet eyes, covered in glowing scars. "I was erased—but the story didn't let go." The golden light within the monolith pulsed. "I survived inside the Dead Chapter." Raj took a cautious step forward. "Why show yourself now?" Elian looked toward the sky. "Because the final rewrite has awakened something worse. Something that eats storylines—devours timelines." Kael shivered. "That doesn't sound like an echo." Elian nodded. "It's older than the writer. A character from the first story ever told. A god. And it's coming."
The shadows around them began whispering in unison, repeating fragments of ancient words: Begin again… begin again… Elian's eyes flashed. "It calls itself 'Null'—the reset. It doesn't rewrite. It erases the idea of story altogether." Meera gripped her weapon. "Why now?" Elian pointed at Kael. "Because the child gave you the pen. That light woke Null. It sees any new story as a threat to the void." Aarav cursed under his breath. "We pulled reality back together… but we also summoned the one thing worse than the writer." Raj's voice cracked. "Then we need to end this."
A tremor ripped through the plain, and the monolith shattered. From its broken core, tendrils of black ink surged into the sky. "It's here," Elian said. "It's writing itself backwards—from the end to the beginning." Meera raised her hand, but her fingers faded. "I'm being unwritten!" Ravi caught her. "Fight it!" Kael held up the pen, its glow sputtering. "The ink isn't working!" A voice boomed across the realm. "There is no 'working' when nothing should exist." The clouds twisted into a face—eyes wide, mouth open, a scream without sound. Null had arrived.
Elian slammed his hands into the ground. "We need a tether—a living link to anchor the story." The shadows surged forward. Raj shouted, "They want to help!" The forgotten characters pressed their hands into the dirt, glowing with long-lost memories. Kael dropped the pen into the center. The earth flared gold, a sigil blooming beneath them. "This is our rewrite!" Meera screamed. "This is our stand!" Null screeched, its voice cracking through time. "All stories must end." Aarav threw his hand forward, touching the sigil. "Then this is the last story you'll ever break!"
Light exploded. Time bent. Null screamed, shattering across infinite versions of itself. For a moment, the sky went silent. Then Meera's body reformed fully, whole again. Kael caught the pen as it fell, still warm. Elian stood, barely breathing. "That was just a fraction of it," he said. "The real Null… is still waking." Ravi looked toward the horizon, where the void pulsed like a heartbeat. "Then we write faster than it erases." Aarav nodded. "And we bring back every forgotten soul while we do." Meera looked down. The page was glowing again—ready for more.