《Fiction & Mayhem》


 Chapter 01

    Once upon an afternoon, in a seaside suburb where the salt air mingled with the hum of ambition, sat Birdwing Art Academy. A modern concrete castle of creativity perched atop a sunlit hill. Its walls, a blend of minimalism and glass, reflected dreams more vivid than its windows.


    Here, students moved with purpose, a quiet urgency in their steps, for the final submission deadline loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon. And so, our heroes descended upon the steps of learning, determined to conquer the art of writing in this sanctuary of steel and wires.


    It was here, on this fine day of impending deadlines, that our first heroine arrived.


    ¡­And when I say arrived, I mean she barrelled into the scene as though the world itself had been holding its breath, desperately waiting for her energy to fill the void. For Adara, our chaotic princess of prose and impulsive decisions was not one to enter quietly.


    Her chariot? A giant red Jeep, louder than a rock concert at dawn and wobbling down the hill like it had narrowly escaped a demolition derby. Behind the wheel sat her mother, a woman no taller than a child but twice as intimidating, grinning with a purple Mohawk that seemed to sneer at the very concept of gravity.


    ¡°HURRY UP! GO, GO, GO!¡± she hollered, leaning halfway out of the window, her voice cutting through the morning calm like a sword through warm butter. ¡°Get out of the way, you bloody idiots!¡±


    ¡°Slow down, Mum! There¡¯s wildlife around.¡±


    From the backseat tumbled Adara, her bubble-gum-pink hair flying like cotton candy caught in a gale.


    ¡°Well tell those hop hops to get off the damn road!¡±


    Adara checked her phone. ¡°AHHH, I¡¯M GONNA BE LATE!!¡± she screeched, ejecting herself from the car like a panicked jack-in-the-box.


    She landed on the academy steps with all the grace of a startled pigeon, her bright pink boots squeaking like a squeamish mouse as she scrambled to her feet.


    Birdwing Academy stretched out before her, a campus perched atop a hill, where ancient gums and paperbarks huddled close, as if cradling the buildings in leafy arms. The brick fa?ades, weathered and sturdy, peeked through the branches, giving the impression of a village of treehouses, stitched together with balconies, wooden staircases, and tangled walkways.


    At its heart, a clock tower stood like an old watchman, ticking away the minutes of dreams and deadlines. Below, the main entrance hissed open and shut, an automatic door that sighed like the trees in the breeze.


    From afar, the campus looked like something grown rather than built, where magic lived quietly between roots, branches, and sunlight that dappled the walls like whispered secrets.


    Students bustled past in a frantic flow, their backpacks bouncing and coffee cups clutched like lifelines. Some lounged-on steps or by the rows of neatly kept bushes and bicycle racks, scrolling through their phones or grumbling about deadlines. A Kookaburra let out a mocking cry from a lamppost, as if it shared its opinion on the state of modern education.


    ¡°Quick, quick, quick! I can make it! I can MAKE it!¡± Adara chanted, a mantra fuelled by pure panic as she bolted toward the double doors.


    Here, beneath the watchful hands of the campus clock, its digital display blinking closer and closer to disaster, Adara sprinted toward her fate: a day of late submissions, forgotten plans, and what might, just might, become the start of something extraordinary.


    ¡°Oh no, oh no, oh no,¡± the girl chanted under her breath, her pink hair bouncing as she stumbled over the last step. She glanced at the massive clock tower, its hands creeping closer to the dreaded hour. ¡°No, no, no! I¡¯M LATE! I¡¯M SO LATE!¡±


    Her voice cracked as she bolted through the open double doors of the academy. Behind her, the tiny Jeep driver leaned back with a smug grin, calling out like a queen of chaos.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to breathe, kiddo!¡±


    ¡°I DON¡¯T HAVE TIME TO BREATHE!¡± Adara shrieked over her shoulder, her voice bouncing off the polished tile floors as she vanished into the hallways.


    Above, the clock let out a single, ominous chime, its low hum reverberating through the air. Somewhere unseen, in the rafters or perhaps in the shadows of the upper floors, someone watched. A faint snicker echoed, soft, cruel, and untraceable, as unseen eyes narrowed on the pink-haired girl below. Plots and schemes churned, quiet and deliberate, while she raced past, blissfully unaware of the unseen figure¡¯s roiling intent.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Adara hissed, her voice snapping through her teeth as she stumbled into an awkward gallop up the hill toward the inner classrooms. Her arms flailed like she was trying to fly, her bag smacking her side with every chaotic step. Sweat slicked her forehead, and panic leaked into every word she muttered.


    ¡°Why, why, why? Of all days to oversleep!¡±


    Her frantic ramblings trailed behind her like the wake of a very pink storm as she disappeared around the corner. The academy, looming and uncaring, seemed to swallow her whole, its stone corridors yawning wide like the jaws of a hungry giant, forever ready to feast on late students and misplaced hopes.


    From the Jeep, the purple-haired woman chuckled softly, tapping the steering wheel with satisfaction. ¡°Good luck, kiddo. You¡¯ll need it.¡±


    Meanwhile, our heroic knight, Luke, a man whose mind was a fortress of logic but whose heart often wandered into poetry, strolled down the asphalt street with all the overconfidence of someone who had prepared for submission day like it was a military campaign. His prematurely grey hair caught the morning sun, its silver streaks adding an unexpected air of dashing charm he would never admit to. Laughter bubbled out of him, soft, private, like a note only he could hear, an inside joke shared with no one.


    Beside him walked Harry Swanson, a mountain masquerading as a man. At 6¡¯3, Harry was built like he could carry a piano and play it simultaneously, yet his face was all good-natured jolliness, a grin stretched wide under a mop of messy brown curls. He looked like the kind of person who could cheerfully wrestle a bear and bake cookies afterward.


    ¡°Oi! Harry!¡± Luke called out, grinning up at him like a kid greeting a favourite treehouse. ¡°You submitted yours yet, mate?¡±


    Harry puffed out his massive chest, proud as a rooster that had just won a barnyard election and shot Luke an exaggerated thumbs-up. ¡°Yeah, did it this morning! Uploaded, finalized, sealed with blood and tears.¡± His booming voice carried across the street like a town crier announcing his triumph. ¡°¡®Prince and the Stars¡¯, my masterpiece. Harry S P Swanson, at his absolute best.¡±


    With a grand gesture, as though conducting an invisible orchestra, he added, ¡°The professor¡¯s going to eat this one up. A+. Guaranteed.¡±


    Luke arched a sceptical eyebrow, his smirk sharp but not unkind. ¡°Harry, mate, just try not to ¡®borrow¡¯ too much from anyone else¡¯s style this time, Shakespeare.¡±


    Harry stopped mid-stride, his towering frame freezing like a monument. He turned dramatically, clutching his chest with one oversized hand, as though Luke had lobbed an arrow straight through his heart.


    ¡°Plagiarize? Me?¡± he boomed, loud enough to startle a flock of pigeons. ¡°How dare you! My work¡¯s an original masterpiece, thank you very much.¡±


    Luke grinned, hands up in surrender. ¡°Yeah, yeah, alright. I¡¯ll check it later, if it¡¯s not suspiciously like George Lucas¡¯s autobiography.¡±


    Harry rolled his eyes, but the grin returned, a smile that could melt glaciers. ¡°You¡¯ll love it, Lukey boy. You just don¡¯t know it yet.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Luke glanced at his watch and groaned. ¡°Right, I¡¯ve gotta submit mine. I¡¯ll meet you at the surf club later, yeah?¡±


    Harry waved him off, his broad shoulders. ¡°Done deal. Good luck, mate!¡± he called, meandering away with a cheerful whistle.


    Luke turned back toward the academy gates, slipping his headphones into place. For a moment, his mind drifted toward submission day¡¯s promise, a logical outcome of careful preparation, wrapped in his usual hope that maybe, just maybe, something extraordinary would come of it.


    And then,


    WHAM!


    Out of nowhere, a hooded guy on a bike zipped past at warp speed. The cyclist¡¯s elbow smacked into Luke¡¯s shoulder, sending him stumbling sideways.


    ¡°Hey! Watch it!¡±


    Too late.


    The strap on his bag snapped, and like a tragic slow-motion montage, Luke watched in horror as it hit the ground, spilling its contents with all the restraint of an overstuffed burrito. Papers, pens, and, dear god, his laptop.


    The bike sped off, its rider pedalling away like a gremlin with no remorse.


    Luke¡¯s laptop bounced.


    It landed.


    And then, as if the universe itself had timed it for comedic cruelty, it collided with a low stone step.


    CRACK. SMASH.


    Silence.


    Luke¡¯s soul left his body. He stared at the mangled remains of his laptop, its screen shattered and keys dangling like broken teeth.


    ¡°Fuuuuuuuuuck!¡± Luke screamed, loud enough to send nearby pigeons scattering in a cloud of feathers.


    He spun in the direction of the disappearing biker. ¡°COME BACK HERE, YOU ABSOLUTE,¡±


    The hooded cyclist? Gone. Just a speck on the horizon, pedalling with gleeful indifference.


    Luke dropped to his knees next to his ruined laptop, cradling it like a fallen comrade. ¡°It¡¯s gone. It¡¯s dead.¡± He looked up at the sky, shaking his fist at the heavens. ¡°WHY DOES THE UNIVERSE HATE ME?¡±


    Students passing by shot him wide-eyed looks before quickly scuttling off, deciding they wanted no part of whatever tragic drama had just unfolded.


    Still kneeling, Luke muttered to himself, ¡°I¡¯ll never make the deadline. I¡¯ll fail. I¡¯ll get a D. No, worse. I¡¯ll have to explain this to Harry, and I¡¯ll NEVER hear the end of it.¡±


    And as though summoned by his misery, his phone buzzed with a message from Harry:


    ¡°Submitted yet? Told you I¡¯d finish first ??.¡±


    Luke stared at the screen, expressionless. ¡°Oh, screw you, Harry.¡±


    With a sigh of utter defeat, he flopped backward onto the steps, arms spread wide, as if offering himself to the cruel gods of deadline day.


    Adara burst into the Birdwing Academy library like a hurricane in bubble-gum-pink boots, earning startled glances from students buried in their textbooks. The library, quiet, serene, smelling faintly of old paper and anxiety, seemed to sigh in protest as she thundered across the polished floors.


    Her cute brown backpack bounced against her side as she skidded to a halt at an empty table, panting. ¡°Okay, okay, focus,¡± she whispered to herself, her face flushed with adrenaline and excitement. Today was submission day, and in her bag was the crown jewel of her efforts: yet another Harry Potter fanfiction, this time about the Marauders era, starring her eternal literary crush, Sirius Black.


    It was pure chaos in story form: Sirius caught in a love triangle of her own design, torn between James Potter and Remus Lupin. She¡¯d giggled to herself endlessly while writing it, delighted by how it would leave her strait-laced, straight-faced professor blinking behind his glasses. To his credit, he never questioned her taste. He just graded.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± Adara plopped her bag on the table, determined. She reached in, rummaging for her bright fluffy keychain, the one always attached to her trusty USB. Her fingers darted through the mess: pens, loose gum wrappers, a notebook covered in questionable doodles of dinosaurs¡­ but no keychain.


    Her stomach dropped.


    ¡°No. No. No.¡± Her voice pitched higher with each word. She plunged both hands into the depths of the backpack, rummaging like a treasure hunter on the edge of discovery. ¡°It¡¯s gotta be here! It¡¯s always here!¡±


    The library patrons looked up as Adara tipped her bag upside down, scattering its contents across the table and the floor in a pink-and-brown explosion of chaos. Out tumbled pencils, scrunched-up paper, lip balm, a snack bar that expired last semester, and her emergency glitter pen, but no USB.


    ¡°NOOOOO!¡± Adara wailed, clutching her hair like a tragic heroine, her face frozen in a silent scream of despair.


    Adara snatched up her phone with trembling hands, hope flaring like a spark in a storm. Her fingers darted over the screen as she typed a frantic message:


    Adara: Mum! Turn back! I left my USB at home! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!


    She hit send and stared at the phone, bouncing her leg as if the motion alone could summon an immediate reply. Seconds stretched into a cruel eternity until,


    Adara froze.


    She remembered.


    Her mother had disconnected the Bluetooth from the Jeep because she ¡°didn¡¯t trust wishy-washy tech¡± in her big red beast of a car. That meant no phone calls, no messages, and no hope. By now, she would already be halfway down the highway, cruising toward work an hour away.


    Adara¡¯s face went pale. ¡°No technology in the Jeep?¡± Her voice trembled, teetering on the edge of hysteria. ¡°NO TECHNOLOGY IN THE JEEP?! WHY DO WE LIVE LIKE THIS?!¡±


    Her whispered shriek cut through the library like a rogue arrow. The librarian, a woman with the posture of a hawk ready to pounce, glared at her over the rim of her glasses and hissed, ¡°Shush!¡±


    Adara slapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks flaming. Her wide eyes darted to the clock on the far wall.


    Time wasn¡¯t running out anymore; it was sprinting, legs pumping like it had a personal vendetta against her. The professor¡¯s rule hung heavy in her mind, etched in the unbreakable stone of academic doom:


    No submission. No grade. No excuses.


    If she didn¡¯t hand in something, anything, she¡¯d fail the class.


    ¡°Okay, okay, okay,¡± she muttered to herself, voice shaking as she shoved her phone into her bag. How long did she have? She had minutes, just minutes, to salvage this.


    ¡°Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Think. THINK!¡± Her words tumbled out like a mantra as she began shoving the contents of her bag back inside, somehow managing to make the mess worse.


    She bolted toward the row of library computers, her sneakers squeaking against the floor. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm, like a drum solo at the world¡¯s most chaotic rock concert.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°Just submit something, Adara,¡± she whispered, her hands already flying to the keyboard. ¡°Even if it¡¯s nonsense. Even if it¡¯s terrible. Anything¡¯s better than nothing.¡±


    Her stomach twisted as the cursor blinked on the empty document. Time was still sprinting, and now, it was winning.


    ¡°Just submit something, Adara. Just anything,¡± she whispered frantically, logging into the slow-moving computer. The screen blinked back at her, almost mockingly, as she opened an empty document and stared at the cursor blinking on a blank page.


    ¡°Think, think, THINK!¡± she hissed, her nails tapping against the desk. Her beautiful, ridiculous fanfiction masterpiece was stranded at home, lying uselessly on her abandoned USB like a shipwrecked sailor. There was no time for creativity, no time for Sirius Black¡¯s emotional angst. She had to improvise.


    Luke¡¯s sneakers pounded up the stairs, the rhythmic thuds echoing like war drums through the Academy halls. His mind raced faster than his legs, fuelled by a mix of sheer panic and the weight of his student loans, each missed assignment another brick on the crushing wall of debt. He couldn¡¯t afford to fail. He wouldn¡¯t redo the semester.


    ¡°Come on, come on, come on,¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow as he rounded a corner. His computer may be completely shattered in his backpack, but a copy of his story was still on his home computer in his email and if you can access the data, he could quickly submit it before the time ended.


    As he sprinted past the library doors, a muffled screech from a girl reached his ears. Luke faltered for a second, eyebrows knitting together.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± he mumbled.


    The screech crescendoed into what sounded like an entire operatic meltdown happening inside the library, but Luke had no time to investigate strange sounds. He dove through the doors, heading straight for the row of computers like they were life rafts in a sinking ship.


    He skidded into the chair at an empty terminal, right beside a pink-haired girl frantically staring at a blank Word document. She practically vibrated with stress as she tapped at her forehead like it might jolt inspiration into her brain while nervously drumming her foot on the floor. ¡°Adara think you idiot!¡± she berated herself.


    Luke paid her no mind. He was too busy whispering, ¡°Log in. Log in. Log in.¡± His fingers jabbed at the keyboard with the fury of someone defusing a bomb.


    ¡°Shhhh!¡± The pink-haired girl hissed, snapping her head toward him. Her eyes narrowed in irritation. ¡°I¡¯m trying to think! Come on Taylor lend me some your lyrical genius!¡±


    Luke glanced at her, half-wild. ¡°Think quieter! I¡¯m trying to submit something!¡±


    Before she could retort, the lights overhead flickered once.


    Luke¡¯s heart dropped into his shoes.


    They flickered twice.


    ¡°Oh, no. No, no, no,¡± he whispered, eyes darting up to the ceiling.


    It was as if the universe itself, sensing his desperation, had reached down and yanked the plug out of his luck. With an audible CLUNK, every light, every computer screen, and every machine in the library died.


    Darkness. Silence.


    Luke froze, his fingers mid-air over the keyboard. Beside him, the pink-haired girl, Adara, judging by the name she¡¯d been muttering to herself earlier, sat equally stunned, her wide eyes reflecting the blank screens.


    ¡°Are you kidding me?!¡± Adara shrieked, slamming her hands on the desk.


    ¡°Oh, COME ON!¡± Luke shouted at the same time, throwing his arms up like the world had personally insulted him.


    For a moment, they stared at each other, united in their shared existential horror.


    ¡°You have got to be kidding me,¡± Adara muttered, slumping back into her chair, her face buried in her hands. ¡°This isn¡¯t real. This can¡¯t be real.¡±


    Luke banged his fist on the desk, glaring at the ceiling as though he could intimidate the power back on. ¡°You had one job, ONE JOB, and you pull this?! Seriously?!¡±


    A slow creak broke the silence as the librarian emerged from her desk, armed with a flashlight and a glare sharp enough to cut steel. ¡°Both of you, calm down.¡±


    The librarian had stepped out of the shadows like an omen of doom, her hawk-like gaze scanning Adara and Luke. She was tall and stern, with glasses perched at the very tip of her nose, her grey-streaked hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun so tight it could¡¯ve been held together by sheer willpower. Everything about her screamed ¡°guardian of silence,¡± but there was something oddly mystical about her presence, like she¡¯d been lurking in libraries since time began.


    ¡°If you two truly need the computers,¡± she said in a voice as dry as a dictionary, ¡°come back later. Power will return eventually.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± Luke blurted out. ¡°We¡¯ve got to submit something today. If we don¡¯t, we¡¯ll fail the whole class!¡±


    ¡°There is a manual submission box,¡± the librarian said.


    ¡°Failing¡¯s not an option, thanks,¡± Adara added, throwing her hands up. ¡°But what¡¯s the point of a manual hand in if we¡¯ve got no computers? We can¡¯t type or print anything.¡±


    The librarian adjusted her glasses, her thin lips curling ever so slightly at the corners. ¡°Well, lucky for you two, there¡¯s another way. Follow me.¡±


    Luke and Adara exchanged baffled glances, the faintest flicker of hope dancing between them like a candle in a storm.


    ¡°Where is she taking us?¡± Adara whispered, her voice low and conspiratorial as they followed the librarian down a narrow, dimly lit hallway.


    ¡°Dunno. Maybe a medieval dungeon?¡± Luke muttered, shooting her a sideways look.


    Adara snorted, the tension easing for just a moment. ¡°I¡¯m Adara, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Luke.¡±


    She grinned despite the situation. ¡°Nice to meet ya. Weird circumstances and all.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Real bonding moment.¡±


    They rounded a corner and arrived at a small back room, tucked behind a STAFF ONLY sign. The air here was different, thicker, tinged with the faint smell of ink and dust.


    The librarian stepped aside, revealing the centrepiece of the room: an ancient typewriter perched proudly atop a creaky wooden desk. Its metal frame gleamed under the flickering light, polished to perfection, while its keys sat waiting, each letter glinting like it held some forgotten magic. It looked like it had been plucked straight out of a vintage store, at least 50 years old, yet pristine, oiled, and ready for action.


    Adara blinked at it, unimpressed. ¡°Is this a joke?¡±


    Luke raised an eyebrow, stepping closer as his fingers hovered curiously over the keys. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re typing our way out of this mess.


    The librarian ignored her scepticism, her fingers gliding over the keys in a well-practiced demonstration. ¡°It works perfectly. Well-oiled. Plenty of ink. All it takes is a little effort.¡± She looked up at the two students. ¡°You¡¯ve got 20 minutes. Make it count.¡±


    Luke¡¯s eyes widened with determination. ¡°This¡¯ll work. Two pages. That¡¯s all we need.¡±


    Adara stepped forward, curiosity warring with doubt. She pressed one key. The typewriter let out a satisfying click-clack. Her face lit up. ¡°Okay, that sound is amazing. If I could take this home, I¡¯d use it just to fidget.¡±


    Luke groaned, rubbing his temples. ¡°Focus, Adara! We don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    The librarian, clearly unfazed by their bickering, handed Adara a heavy flashlight, its beam cutting through the dim room. She fixed them both with a last, knowing look.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± she said simply, before turning on her heel and disappearing through the door.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± they muttered in unison, their voices overlapping in half-hearted gratitude.


    The door clicked shut, leaving Luke and Adara alone in the quiet room. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared at the typewriter, an ancient, silent beast perched ominously on the desk, like it might suddenly spring to life or explode into flames.


    ¡°So¡­ who goes first?¡± Adara asked, breaking the silence as she slid into the chair. Her fingers hovered over the keys, already fidgeting with the space bar, a mischievous glint in her eyes.


    Luke¡¯s logical side kicked in. ¡°We¡¯re short on time. How about whoever has their idea first gets to start? You get a page, then hand it off to check.¡±


    Adara crossed her arms. ¡°I¡¯ve got one already.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°What if we argue about who has the better idea?¡±


    Luke groaned. ¡°That¡¯ll just waste more time.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Rock-paper-scissors?¡±


    ¡°Rock-paper-scissors. Deal.¡±


    They squared off, hands poised in midair.


    ¡°Wait, is it on three or on ¡®shoot¡¯?¡± Luke asked, narrowing his eyes.


    Adara looked at him like he¡¯d grown two heads. ¡°¡®Shoot,¡¯ obviously. What are we, savages? It¡¯s rock-paper-scissors-shoot.¡±


    Luke blinked. ¡°Right. Got it.¡±


    ¡°Best of one?¡± Luke added, though he looked slightly unsure.


    ¡°Coward¡¯s way, but sure.¡± Adara grinned.


    ¡°Rock¡­ paper¡­ scissors¡­ SHOOT!¡±


    Adara threw down scissors, her grin splitting her face as Luke stared at his outstretched paper in dismay.


    ¡°YES! Victory is mine!¡± Adara crowed, sliding into the chair with far too much enthusiasm and cracking her knuckles.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for victory speeches,¡± Luke muttered, dragging another chair beside her with a resigned sigh. ¡°Just start. I¡¯ll help you with spelling.¡±


    Adara paused, turning to him with a sideways glance. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re offering to help me spell?¡±


    Luke frowned, then tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as if piecing something together. ¡°Yeah? You mentioned you had dyslexia a couple of months ago, didn¡¯t you? During class.¡±


    Adara froze, fingers hovering over the keys. ¡°Wait¡­ you remember that?¡±


    Luke shrugged, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°It wasn¡¯t exactly a casual thing to share. Besides, you sit two rows behind me and usually mutter about Sirius Black when you¡¯re supposed to be taking notes.¡±


    Her eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laugh. ¡°I do not mutter, okay, fine, maybe I do. But still. You remembered?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, my brain hoards random facts. Logic-brain curse.¡± He gestured at the typewriter. ¡°Now type. Time¡¯s ticking.¡±


    Adara hesitated, her usual bravado dimming just a little. ¡°I¡¯ve got dyslexia, okay? Spelling¡¯s not exactly my strong suit, and writing¡¯s¡­ a bit of a battle sometimes.¡±


    Luke blinked, the faint smile softening into something closer to admiration. ¡°But you¡¯re in a writing class.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and? I love stories.¡± Her voice firmed up, stubborn and proud. ¡°I¡¯ll fight through it if I have to.¡±


    Luke shrugged, nodding slowly. ¡°Fair enough. I get it. I dropped engineering for writing. Everyone thought I was nuts.¡±


    Adara paused mid-type, shooting him a look. ¡°Engineering? That¡¯s a hard left turn. Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I hated it. And I wanted to do something I actually cared about, even if it means drowning in student loans.¡±


    Her lips quirked into a grin. ¡°I respect the hustle, Luke. I do. But less talky talky, more typey typey.¡±


    Once again, Adara cracked her knuckles dramatically before diving into the keys. The typewriter sprang to life with a series of sharp clicks and clacks, echoing through the small room like a ticking clock. Luke held the torch steady, the light flickering as shadows danced across the walls.


    Adara typed furiously for a few seconds before stopping abruptly, groaning. ¡°Ugh. Why do I always start with the worst sentences?¡±


    Luke glanced over, amused. ¡°What¡¯s it about? This masterpiece of yours.¡±


    Adara hesitated, her pink hair falling into her face as she hunched over the typewriter protectively. ¡°Promise you won¡¯t laugh.¡±


    ¡°Scout¡¯s honour,¡± Luke replied, holding up a hand solemnly.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ fanfiction.¡±


    Luke blinked. ¡°Fanfiction?¡±


    Her cheeks flushed pink to match her hair, and she muttered quickly, ¡°Yeah. Harry Potter fanfiction. Marauders era, actually. Sirius Black¡­ and a love triangle. Don¡¯t judge.¡±


    The room was silent for a beat, save for the faint humming of the torchlight. Adara braced herself, expecting a snort or some sarcastic remark.


    Instead, Luke tilted his head and grinned. ¡°Why would I laugh? I¡¯m a big Harry Potter fan.¡±


    Her head shot up so fast it was a miracle she didn¡¯t give herself whiplash. ¡°Wait, you are?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He shrugged as though it were the most normal thing in the world. ¡°Sirius Black¡¯s my favourite, too. The guy had style; you know?¡±


    Adara gawked at him like he¡¯d sprouted an extra limb. ¡°You¡¯re kidding. Mister Logical likes Harry Potter?¡±


    Luke shrugged, completely unbothered. ¡°I¡¯m logical, not heartless,¡± he deadpanned. ¡°Besides, my sister convinced me to read the books when we were kids. Got hooked on the movies too.¡±


    Adara¡¯s grin widened as if she¡¯d just found a hidden treasure. ¡°Okay, you just got ten points cooler.¡±


    Luke smirked, leaning back slightly. ¡°And you¡¯ve earned five for not being embarrassed about it.¡± He nodded toward the typewriter. ¡°Now finish your Sirius Black love triangle before I decide to downgrade you.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but if you laugh at the drama, I¡¯m throwing you out a window,¡± Adara warned.


    ¡°Duly noted.¡±


    Her fingers hovered over the keys, then paused. A thought crossed her face, curiosity bubbling up. ¡°Wait, if you¡¯re a fan, I have to ask. What House are you in?¡±


    Luke¡¯s smirk grew into something more mischievous. ¡°Slytherin.¡±


    Adara froze mid-keystroke, staring at him as if he¡¯d just sprouted scales. ¡°Slytherin? Of course you¡¯re a Slytherin. The logical overachiever.¡±


    ¡°Hey, ambition¡¯s not a bad thing,¡± Luke defended, holding up his hands. ¡°We¡¯re not all dark wizards, you know.¡±


    Adara snorted, shaking her head. ¡°Well, for the record, I¡¯m a Gryffindor. So, this whole ¡®team effort¡¯ we¡¯ve got going? It¡¯s basically a miracle.¡±


    With renewed energy, she pounded the typewriter, the machine clicking and clacking in an almost approving rhythm. The faintest flickers of light hummed softly beneath her touch, unnoticed, as though the typewriter itself was entertained by the unlikely pair.


    When she finally yanked the last page free, she slumped back into the chair with a dramatic sigh. ¡°Your turn, logic boy. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re as good as you think you are.¡±


    Luke rolled his eyes but took her place at the typewriter, adjusting the chair like he was preparing for battle.


    Adara perched herself on the edge of the desk, the torch now pointed at him. ¡°So, what¡¯s your epic about, then? Please tell me it¡¯s not about engineering.¡±


    Luke snorted. ¡°No. It¡¯s a dark fantasy. Magic swords, spells, cursed kings¡­ you know, the good stuff. Swords clashing under storm clouds and ruined kingdoms.¡±


    Adara raised an eyebrow, grinning. ¡°You¡¯re living out your edgy medieval dreams, huh?¡±


    ¡°Better than staring at AutoCAD and designing parking lots for the next 40 years,¡± Luke shot back, his grin widening as his fingers hit the keys.


    The typewriter sprang to life once more, its rhythmic clatter filling the room as Luke¡¯s focus narrowed. Adara watched him, fascinated, her legs swinging idly beneath the desk.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t peg you for a dark fantasy guy,¡± she mused after a moment. ¡°Engineering to elves with magic swords? That¡¯s a plot twist.¡±


    Luke shrugged, not looking up. ¡°I wanted to do something I was passionate about. Stories are messier, but at least they mean something.¡±


    Adara tilted her head thoughtfully. ¡°Yeah. I get that.¡±


    Minutes passed as Luke hammered out words, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration. The typewriter hummed faintly, its glow pulsing softly with each keystroke, unnoticed by either of them.


    Finally, Luke tugged the last page free with a satisfied nod and leaned back in the chair, exhaling like he¡¯d just finished scaling a mountain. ¡°Done.¡±


    Adara clapped her hands slowly, mock-applauding. ¡°Not bad, logic boy. Not bad.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably rubbish, but it¡¯s done rubbish. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    Just as Luke stappled the sheets together with a triumphant grin, the library lights flickered back to life with an audible hum. The room flooded with warm, fluorescent light, as if the universe had been waiting for them to finish before deciding to cooperate.


    Adara froze, mid-stretch, and stared up at the ceiling in disbelief. ¡°Are you kidding me?! Now?!¡±


    Luke groaned, running a hand through his prematurely grey hair. ¡°Of course. Of course this happens now. We suffer, and the lights decide to make their grand comeback just to mock us.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the library itself has a vendetta,¡± Adara grumbled, crumpling her finished pages triumphantly in her hands. ¡°But you know what? We¡¯re done. DONE.¡±


    ¡°Done rubbish is still done,¡± Luke reminded her, pushing back his chair. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s submit these manually before something else decides to go wrong.¡±


    They stood up, ignoring the faint humming sound still coming from the typewriter. Behind them, an almost imperceptible glow pulsed along the machine¡¯s edges, soft and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that had grown stronger in the torchlight.


    ¡°You hear that?¡± Adara asked, glancing back at the desk as they grabbed their pages.


    Luke shrugged, already halfway to the door. ¡°It¡¯s probably just the room settling.¡±


    ¡°Or the universe plotting its next prank,¡± Adara muttered, following him out.


    They hurried through the now brightly lit library, clutching their pages like trophies, both too relieved to argue as they made their way toward the submission box just outside the professor¡¯s office. With dramatic flair, Adara slammed her pages down first, Luke following suit with a thud.


    ¡°There. Victory,¡± Adara declared. ¡°Now let¡¯s get out of here before something explodes.¡±


    Luke nodded, smirking. ¡°Agreed. I¡¯ve had enough surprises for one day,¡±


    But just as they turned toward the hallway, an ear-splitting BANG erupted from the direction of the typewriter room, followed by a sound like a swirling tornado of wind and magic. Light, blinding and brilliant, spilled through the crack beneath the door.


    Adara froze, eyes wide. ¡°What. Was. That?¡±


    Luke turned slowly, his expression deadpan. ¡°Something exploding. You somehow called it.¡±


    Before they could react further, the door to the back room burst open, the light swallowing the hallway for a moment. Then, out of the chaos, a massive figure stumbled forward, knocking into a bookshelf with a resounding thud.


    It was a fat orc, easily eight feet tall and decidedly out of place. His green skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and he squinted around the library like someone waking up from a particularly vivid nap.


    The truly absurd part? He was wearing a Hogwarts student uniform, complete with the red-and-gold tie, a slightly torn robe straining at the seams, and a badge embroidered with the House crest. In one giant hand, he gripped an oversized fluorescent light bulb, holding it aloft like it was some enchanted battle staff.


    Adara¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°What¡­ the actual¡­ fuck?¡±


    The orc looked at them, blinking slowly before breaking into an unnervingly cheerful grin. ¡°Oi, mates! Which way¡¯s the Great Hall? I¡¯m starving¡¯.¡±


    Luke and Adara stood frozen in place, staring at the hulking creature before them. Luke finally found his voice.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±


    Adara tugged at Luke¡¯s sleeve, her voice an incredulous whisper. ¡°Is he holding a¡­ light bulb¡­ as a weapon?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Luke whispered back, eyes locked on the orc. ¡°And he¡¯s wearing a Gryffindor uniform. Of course he¡¯s in Gryffindor.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Gryffindors are brave!¡± Adara hissed defensively, before turning back to the orc, her voice rising. ¡°And who, what, are you? And why are you in our library?!¡±


    The orc frowned, scratching his head with his free hand. ¡°Name¡¯s Braglok. Was just mindin¡¯ my business, y¡¯know, savin¡¯ the wizardin¡¯ world and all. Next thing I know, POOF! I¡¯m here.¡± He waved the fluorescent light bulb with pride. ¡°Pretty sure this is my wand now. Good, innit?¡±


    Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering through clenched teeth, ¡°This cannot be happening.¡±


    Adara, on the other hand, stared at Braglok with something close to admiration. ¡°You know what? This might be the coolest thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Luke¡¯s head snapped up, his face pale. ¡°Coolest?! Adara, there¡¯s an ORC¡­ with a LIGHT BULB¡­ standing in our library!¡± His voice cracked somewhere between disbelief and existential dread.


    Braglok squinted at them, looking utterly unbothered. ¡°Oi, mates! Which way¡¯s the Great Hall? I¡¯m proper lost.¡±


    Luke¡¯s eyes widened, his voice dropping to a whisper as realization sank in. ¡°The Great Hall¡­ Braglok¡­¡± He pointed a shaking finger at the hulking orc. ¡°You¡¯re from my story.¡±


    Adara blinked, turning to Luke with an incredulous grin. ¡°Wait. WHAT?¡±


    Luke ignored her, staring at the orc like he was staring down a nightmare. ¡°Braglok the Hungry. You¡¯re from the chapter I just wrote. Magic swords, spells, cursed kings¡­ and YOU. Why are you HERE?!¡±


    Braglok grinned proudly, waving his oversized fluorescent light bulb like a victorious hero brandishing Excalibur. ¡°Told ya, mate. Savin¡¯ the world. You wrote me, didn¡¯t ya? Reckon you summoned me here proper good!¡±


    Adara looked between the orc and Luke, her face lighting up like Christmas. ¡°**Oh. My. God. You wrote this guy?! I thought you said your story was dark fantasy, not comedy.¡±


    ¡°It WAS dark fantasy!¡± Luke barked, gesturing wildly at Braglok. ¡°But he was supposed to be in a battle, armour, swords, a cursed king, not holding a¡­ a LIGHT BULB and asking for directions to Hogwarts!¡±


    Braglok frowned, his massive brows knitting together in confusion. ¡°This ain¡¯t Hogwarts?¡±


    Adara, already doubled over, let out a cackle. ¡°This is amazing. Logic boy, your imagination betrayed you.¡±


    Luke dragged a hand down his face, his expression a mix of panic and disbelief. ¡°No. No, no, no. This doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± He turned, staring back at the now-quiet typewriter as if it held the answers.


    ¡°What doesn¡¯t make sense?¡± Adara asked, still grinning ear to ear.


    Luke snapped his fingers, his eyes widening as he paced like someone connecting all the red string on a conspiracy board. ¡°Think about it! Braglok¡¯s from MY story, right? But he¡¯s wearing YOUR Gryffindor robes and talking about Hogwarts. Our stories¡­ they¡¯re mixed up.¡±


    Adara¡¯s laughter faltered. ¡°Wait, what? Mixed up? How?¡±


    Luke pointed accusingly at the typewriter room, his voice rising with every word. ¡°That stupid, glowing typewriter! We BOTH used it. I wrote Braglok¡¯s chapter. You wrote about Hogwarts and your Sirius Black love triangle. Somehow it mashed our stories together!¡±


    Adara¡¯s jaw dropped as she spun toward Braglok, taking in the Gryffindor robe straining at the seams and the light bulb clutched proudly in his hand.  ¡°So, what, you¡¯re saying my Harry Potter fanfic and your ¡®edgy medieval¡¯ epic collided? Like¡­ like a book blender?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Luke groaned, clutching his head. ¡°It¡¯s the only explanation. That typewriter isn¡¯t just old, it¡¯s cursed. Or enchanted. Or something!¡±


    Adara stared at him for a beat, her eyes wide with glee. ¡°That. Is. AWESOME.¡±

 Chapter 02

    It was a recipe for chaos, whipped up in the kitchen of imagination. The ingredients? Two startled students, a thoroughly dishevelled library, and one massive orc wielding a glowing fluorescent magic stick like it was a toy.


    ¡°How are you not freaking out right now?¡± Luke demanded, waving his arms at Braglok, who stood grinning like a child. ¡°Actually, why am I not freaking out? This is completely insane!¡±


    ¡°When life gives you lemons¡­¡± Adara started, her tone light and confident.


    Luke squinted at her. ¡°You what?¡±


    ¡°You crack open the tequila!¡± she finished with a cheeky thumbs-up.


    Luke blinked, utterly baffled. ¡°Your solution is drinking?¡±


    Adara shook her head, rolling her eyes. ¡°No, it means don¡¯t panic. Keep calm, you know? Besides, look at him.¡± She gestured towards Braglok, just as a string of drool slipped from one of his tusks and landed with a wet splat on the crest of his wizarding uniform. ¡°He¡¯s harmless.¡±


    ¡°Harmless?¡± Luke repeated. ¡°Adara, he¡¯s a walking mountain of death! He could crush us like grapes!¡±


    ¡°Aw, don¡¯t be so dramatic,¡± she said, tilting her head and studying Braglok¡¯s dopey, almost delighted grin. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t attack us, would you, big guy?¡±


    Braglok tilted his head, scratching his chin with a hand that looked like it could crush a watermelon. ¡°Attack you? Nah, why¡¯d I go do a thing like that? Ain¡¯t no reason to go bashin¡¯ a Muggle.¡± His brow furrowed deeply, his gruff voice dripping with genuine offense. ¡°What d¡¯ya take me for, some kinda pureblood nutter?¡±


    Luke stared, his brain struggling to process. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ strangely comforting¡­ I think.¡±


    Adara smirked, triumphant. ¡°See? Gryffindors aren¡¯t just brave; we¡¯re loyal, noble, and good-hearted too.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Luke said dryly. ¡°Save the Gryffindor ad campaign for later. Right now, we¡¯ve got an actual problem to solve.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Braglok isn¡¯t a problem,¡± Adara shot back, patting the orc¡¯s arm. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him, Braggy.¡±


    ¡°Braggy?¡±


    Braglok frowned deeply and clapped his massive hands over his ears, muttering, ¡°Mean words don¡¯t go in. Mean words don¡¯t go in.¡± The sight was both ridiculous and oddly pitiful.


    ¡°Happy now?¡± Adara asked, glaring at Luke.


    ¡°Oh, for the love of¡ªthis is not what I meant!¡± Luke groaned. ¡°How long do you think it¡¯s gonna be before someone walks in, sees him, and starts screaming?¡±


    Right on cue, a group of students rounded the corner, arms piled high with books. They froze like deer in headlights, their gazes locking on Braglok.


    The orc waved cheerfully. ¡°Hullo!¡±


    The students dropped their books with a loud crash, let out synchronized, high-pitched screams, and bolted in every direction. One tripped over their own feet, landing in a heap before scrambling to join the others.


    ¡°Like that!¡± Luke jabbed a finger toward the fleeing students.


    Adara shrugged, completely unfazed, as if orcs wandering libraries, were an everyday occurrence. ¡°Yeah, alright. Fair point. But let¡¯s focus, how do we fix this? Where did he even come from, and how do we look after him?¡±


    Luke¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Don¡¯t you mean send him back?¡±


    ¡°Aw, can¡¯t we keep him?¡±


    ¡°Keep him? Adara, he¡¯s not a stray cat! He¡¯s an eight-foot orc!¡±


    ¡°So¡­ he¡¯s a big cutie!¡± Adara gestured toward Braglok, who was now busy making faces at his own reflection in the fluorescent light bulb.


    Luke groaned, rubbing his temples. ¡°Cutie? He¡¯s a liability! What happens when he gets hungry or, I don¡¯t know, decides to redecorate the library with his bare hands?¡±


    Braglok perked up. ¡°Oi, I¡¯d be proper good at redecoratin¡¯, I would! Red walls, couple o¡¯ skulls ¡®ere an¡¯ there, real cozy like. Want me ta start now, do ya?¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Luke and Adara shouted in unison.


    Adara turned back to Luke, her grin unwavering. ¡°See? He¡¯s eager to help!¡±


    ¡°Adara, this isn¡¯t a puppy adoption. He came from the typewriter, so he must go back to the typewriter,¡± Luke snapped, jabbing a finger toward the glowing room.


    Before either of them could move, a deliberate throat-clearing noise echoed from behind. They spun around to see the librarian, arms crossed and expression utterly unimpressed, standing as if she¡¯d materialized out of thin air.


    ¡°Oh, not again,¡± the librarian muttered, sounding more exasperated than surprised.


    Luke blinked at her, incredulous. ¡°Wait. This has happened before?¡±


    The librarian sighed, brushing a speck of dust off her cardigan with the air of someone far too used to magical mishaps. ¡°Yes. But not for a long time.¡± She pointed at them with the kind of authority that came from dealing with nonsense on a regular basis. ¡°Now, you two listen up.¡±


    Adara shot Luke a triumphant look and mouthed, ¡°See? Everything¡¯s fine.¡±


    The librarian ignored their silent exchange and gestured towards Braglok, who was now gnawing experimentally on the glowing light bulb. ¡°That,¡± she said with a sharp jab of her finger, ¡°is a magical conduit mishap.¡±


    Luke raised an eyebrow. ¡°A magical what-now?¡±


    ¡°A magical conduit,¡± the librarian repeated with a long-suffering sigh. ¡°Everyday objects enchanted to interact with other magical devices. In this case¡­¡± She pointed at the fluorescent light bulb clutched in Braglok¡¯s oversized hand. ¡°¡­your friend here is holding it. And whatever that typewriter conjured got anchored to the conduit.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Luke said, narrowing his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re the one who told us to use the typewriter.¡±


    The librarian drew herself up, looking dramatically affronted. ¡°Excuse me? That typewriter is an integral part of this Academy. Countless students have used it without conjuring an eight-foot, green-skinned¡­ thing.¡± She gestured emphatically at Braglok, who waved cheerfully. ¡°I do hope you¡¯re not blaming me for this blunder.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s blaming anyone,¡± Adara said quickly, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace.


    ¡°I am,¡± Luke shot back. ¡°If you knew it could even possibly do this¡­ even if it¡¯s a one-percent chance¡­, why would you let students use it at all?¡±


    ¡°Hey, calm down,¡± Adara interjected, giving Luke a warning look before turning to the librarian. ¡°You know how to fix it, right? I mean, you do know what you¡¯re doing¡­ don¡¯t you?¡±


    The librarian nodded briskly, her earlier indignation evaporating. ¡°Of course I do. As I said, the light bulb is a magical conduit. The typewriter manifested your friend here, but the conduit is what¡¯s keeping him¡­ well, real.¡±


    Luke ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Sorry, can we just pause for a second? We seem to have brushed right past the whole part where the real world, the one we live in, apparently has magic. You¡¯ve moved straight from normal to Mordor in two steps, and I¡¯m still stuck on step one!¡±


    Adara snorted. ¡°Yeah, well, welcome to the chaos train. Where there are no brakes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Luke the world has magic. Now can we stay on task? Chaos or not, this is a solvable problem.¡±


    Adara tilted her head. ¡°So, what? We take the light bulb back to the typewriter, and¡­ poof, no more Braglok?¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± the librarian confirmed. ¡°Take the conduit back, place it near the typewriter, and it¡¯ll undo the manifestation.¡±


    Braglok¡¯s cheerful grin faltered slightly. ¡°Wait¡­ undo? Like, gone-gone?¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa!¡± Adara stepped protectively in front of Braglok, arms outstretched. ¡°You¡¯re just going to erase him? What if he likes it here? What if he has dreams?¡±


    Braglok grinned proudly, his tusks gleaming. ¡°I do have dreams. Mostly of feasts¡­ and smashing things.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t be erased. Just sent back to where he came from,¡± The librarian said with a sigh.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we talk about this, we only just made friends,¡± added Adara quickly.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a debate,¡± the librarian wiggled her finger at the pink haired student. ¡°Unless you two fancy more creatures popping out of that typewriter.¡±


    Luke¡¯s face drained of colour. ¡°Wait¡­ there could be more Bragloks?¡±


    ¡°And worse,¡± the librarian said ominously.


    Luke frowned. ¡°Define ¡®worse.¡¯¡±


    The librarian arched an eyebrow. ¡°What kind of villains did you write about?¡±


    Adara looked sheepish. ¡°None really¡­ Unless you count angst.¡±


    Luke spun toward her, incredulous. ¡°I thought you said you didn¡¯t have enough time to add angst!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always room for a little angst,¡± Adara replied with a shrug.


    The librarian groaned. ¡°Can we please stop talking about angst and focus on the problem?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Adara said briskly. ¡°Let¡¯s do this before a glowing Sirius Black cursed king starts roaming around¡­¡±


    Luke¡¯s eyebrow twitched. ¡°Let¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Although,¡± Adara added with a sly grin, ¡°a glowing cursed king Sirius might be a little¡ª¡±


    ¡°Focus, Adara!¡± Luke snapped.


    ¡°Alright, alright! Glowey stick to clickey clacky, got it.¡± She gestured dramatically toward the typewriter.


    ¡°Good,¡± the librarian said with finality, her tone clipped as she stepped closer to Braglok. Her gaze flicked between the group, and for the briefest moment, Luke caught a glint of something in her eyes. Eagerness? Triumph?


    ¡°Well, technically,¡± the librarian muttered, almost to herself, ¡°There¡¯s never been two stories that crossed over before, so who knows?¡± She continued mumbling under her breath, mentioning unstable conduits and magical interference, while zeroing in on the glowing light bulb Braglok clutched protectively.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with before anyone else shows up and decides we¡¯re hosting a magical zoo,¡± Luke said, his tone dry but urgent.


    ¡°Good decision, Luke,¡± the librarian replied briskly, stepping toward Braglok.


    Luke froze. Wait. That¡¯s twice she just called me by name? His gut churned. Maybe she¡¯d seen his name in the student records. Or¡­ had she read his assignment entry?


    Adara, oblivious to Luke¡¯s inner turmoil, turned to the towering orc and gave his massive arm a reassuring pat. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, big guy. You¡¯re going to a better place.¡±


    Braglok tilted his head, looking slightly dejected.


    ¡°Give it here then,¡± the librarian said flatly, extending her hand toward him. ¡°The light bulb. Hand it over.¡±


    Braglok clutched the glowing object tighter, his brows furrowing in confusion. ¡°Wotcha want it for? It¡¯s my magic glowy sticky wand thing!¡±


    The librarian sighed as if she¡¯d dealt with this kind of nonsense far too often. ¡°Just give me the light bulb. It¡¯s not a toy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Braglok,¡± Adara said. ¡°She wants to help.¡±


    ¡°I can fix this,¡± the librarian interjected with an air of finality, her hand still outstretched. ¡°You won¡¯t disappear¡­ you will just go home. Don¡¯t you want to go home?¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Luke¡¯s brows furrowed, unease prickling at the back of his mind as he glanced between the librarian and Braglok. Something about the situation felt off, like a puzzle piece that didn¡¯t quite fit. He opened his mouth to say something, but Adara seemed far too focused on the prospect of saying goodbye to her new orcish friend to pick up on anything suspicious.


    Braglok hesitated, then reluctantly handed over the glowing bulb with a forlorn look, his shoulders slumping like a dejected puppy whose favourite toy had been stolen. ¡°But it¡¯s mine,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, buddy. We¡¯ll get you a new glowy stick. Maybe one with sparkles,¡± said Adara.


    Luke opened his mouth to say something, to point out how easily the librarian had yanked the conduit from Braglok¡¯s grip, but before he could get the words out, the librarian spun on her heel and marched toward the typewriter room.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Luke called after her, his unease growing. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    The librarian didn¡¯t respond. Without hesitation, she stormed into the glowing room, her movements deliberate and precise, muttering incomprehensibly under her breath. Luke and Adara exchanged glances, Luke¡¯s face tightened with growing unease, while Adara¡¯s was marked more by curiosity than alarm.


    ¡°What is she up to?¡± Luke whispered.


    Adara frowned and shrugged. ¡°Fixing things? Probably?¡± Her attention flitted between the librarian and Braglok, her concern more focused on the latter¡¯s fate.


    The librarian stopped abruptly in front of the typewriter, the faintly glowing conduit clutched tightly in her hand. But instead of magically sending the orc back into the machine as Luke had assumed she would, she placed her other hand atop the typewriter, her fingers curling over it possessively.


    ¡°Finally,¡± she cheered.


    Luke¡¯s unease deepened as the librarian turned back to them. There was no urgency in her expression, no focus on fixing anything. Instead, her face was lit with something else entirely, a gleam of triumph that sent a chill crawling up Luke¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Thanks children,¡± she said, her voice unnervingly calm, as if they¡¯d handed her the final piece of some grand puzzle.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Luke started to protest, stepping forward.


    But before he could reach her, the librarian¡¯s body twisted unnaturally, stretching and spiralling as if yanked by an invisible force. In an instant, a swirling void opened above the typewriter, pulling her in with a flash of blinding light.


    Adara staggered back, shielding her eyes with her arm. When the light faded, the room fell eerily silent, the typewriter¡¯s glow seemed even brighter.


    Adara stood frozen, her mouth hanging open. ¡°Did she just¡­?¡±


    ¡°She just got sucked into the typewriter,¡± Luke finished, his voice tight with shock and disbelief. His mind raced as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. ¡°But¡­ that didn¡¯t look like she was trying to fix anything.¡±


    Braglok, still clutching the empty space where his ¡°magic sticky thing¡± had been, glanced at them with a forlorn expression. ¡°So¡­ does this mean no home?¡±


    Luke barely heard him. His eyes stayed locked on the typewriter, his gut churning. Whatever the librarian had done, it wasn¡¯t what they¡¯d expected. And now, they were left with more questions than answers.


    Adara turned to Luke, her brow furrowed. ¡°Where do you think she went? You think she¡¯s coming back?¡±


    Luke crossed his arms, his lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Doubt it. Pretty sure we were just the suckers in some kind of nefarious scheme.¡±


    Adara raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh, that doesn¡¯t sound good.¡±


    Braglok, who had been silently watching their exchange, scratched his head with one massive hand. ¡°Humans sound pretty dumb-dumb,¡± he grunted, as if stating an undeniable fact.


    Adara turned to him, wagging a finger like an overly strict schoolteacher. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s not nice! Calling someone dumb dumb is naughty, mister.¡±


    Braglok¡¯s green cheeks darkened with what might¡¯ve been a blush. He shuffled his feet and muttered sheepishly, ¡°Sorry.¡± His overly sincere tone was almost comical, making him sound like a repentant child apologizing for stealing cookies.


    Luke, meanwhile, wasn¡¯t paying much attention to their exchange. His eyes stayed fixed on the typewriter, his mind racing. Something about the whole situation didn¡¯t sit right. The typewriter was still glowing, and it didn¡¯t seem like whatever power was supposed to shut off had actually done so. Instead, it felt like the librarian had gotten exactly what she wanted, and whatever that was, it clearly had nothing to do with Braglok.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± Luke muttered. ¡°I think more might,¡±


    Before he could finish, the room gave a violent shudder. The glow from the typewriter intensified, and with another deafening bang, a jagged crack formed in the air itself. It shimmered like broken glass under sunlight, and from the rift, a small figure tumbled out.


    ¡°Is that a house elf?¡± asked Luke.


    Adara gasped as the new arrival flopped onto the floor and fought to pick himself up. It was a diminutive elf-like creature with oversized floppy ears and a bald head that gleamed under the flickering light. The elf was clad neck to toe in shining, ridiculously ornate armour that looked more expensive than practical. In its tiny hands, it wielded a long steel blade that gleamed menacingly with gold fancy filagree.


    At the sight of the orc the little elf pointed his blade dramatically and narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°Prepare thyself, beast!¡± the house elf bellowed, its voice dripping with overly dramatic high pitched flair, as if it had stepped straight out of a low-budget Shakespearean play. It raised the blade high, pointing it squarely at Braglok. ¡°For I, Sir Reginald of the Radiant Order, shall vanquish thee, foul creature, in the name of truth, valour, and justice!¡±


    Braglok blinked, confused. ¡°Wot?¡±


    ¡°Oh god, not Reginald,¡± said Luke.


    Adara threw herself between the elf and the orc, her arms outstretched. ¡°Oh no, no, no! Who are you, and why are you yelling?¡±


    The elf froze mid-step, his blade still aloft. He turned to Adara with an expression of exaggerated gallantry. ¡°Fair maiden, remove thyself from harm¡¯s way! This noble knight cannot allow thee to remain in such peril. The monster must be smotten for the greater good!¡±


    Adara looked affronted. ¡°I¡¯m not in peril! And he¡¯s not a monster, well, okay, technically he¡¯s an orc, but he¡¯s a good boy. Look at him! He¡¯s a student for crying out loud.¡±


    Sir Reginald¡¯s eyes narrowed as he peered past her at Braglok, who was scratching his head again, looking even more confused. ¡°Do not be deceived by his brutish charm, m¡¯lady! Evil lurks in his oversized muscles and tusks. Stand aside, lest thou regret thy hesitation!¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Adara replied, firmly planting her feet. ¡°Not happening. Braglok is a good boy.¡±


    Luke watched the scene unfold with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me,¡± he muttered, stepping forward. ¡°Adara, I don¡¯t think this guy¡¯s gonna listen.¡±


    Adara shot him a glare. ¡°Luke, do you really think I¡¯m going to let this shiny tin can chop up a fellow Gryffindor?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡±


    Before he could finish, Sir Reginald let out another bellow, dramatically twirling his blade. ¡°Have at thee, villain!¡± he cried, charging forward in what could only be described as a very short but determined sprint.


    Before anyone could react, Sir Reginald let out a mighty, ¡°For glory, WHOA!¡± as his foot caught on a rogue stack of books strewn across the floor. In an almost cartoonish display of clumsiness, his legs flailed, and he fell forward like a toppled tower of shiny armour. His blade soared into the air, spinning dramatically, before embedding itself harmlessly into a nearby book cart. Reginald, meanwhile, hit the floor face-first with a resounding thud.


    Braglok tilted his head, blinking down at the fallen knight. ¡°Yer mate¡¯s got the coordination of a drunk goblin, ¡®e does.¡±


    Adara burst into laughter, her finger pointing at the groaning heap of armour on the floor. ¡°Oh my God, Luke. Is he¡­ is he supposed to be like this?¡±


    Luke sighed, already sensing where this conversation was headed. ¡°Yep. That¡¯s Reginald. Straight out of my story.¡±


    Adara raised an eyebrow, still snickering. ¡°Wait, wait, wait. You wrote him? You wrote a guy who basically trips over his own shadow?¡±


    Luke looked both defensive and defeated. ¡°For the record, he¡¯s not supposed to be this bad. He¡¯s an unlucky human warrior, sure¡ªpompous, lower-tier royalty, kind of a pain in the ass¡ªbut he had some redeeming qualities.¡±


    Adara tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. ¡°Like what? His ability to fall with dramatic flair?¡±


    ¡°Not just that!¡± Luke groaned. ¡°He¡¯s meant to be a moral foil for the protagonist. You know, devil¡¯s advocate. The guy who questions the hero¡¯s decisions, forces them to think through their choices. Stubborn? Yes. Annoying? Absolutely. But not this useless.¡±


    Adara folded her arms, smirking. ¡°Luke, he just face-planted into a pile of library books and lost his sword mid-battle cry. If you ask me, he¡¯s one step away from being Sir Cadogan.¡±


    Luke blinked. ¡°Oh, come on. He¡¯s not that bad.¡±


    Adara gestured to the knight, who was now attempting to retrieve his sword with all the grace of a flailing toddler. ¡°Really? Because all he¡¯s missing is a fat pony and a penchant for challenging paintings to duels.¡±


    Reginald, apparently oblivious to their conversation, pushed himself up on one elbow and declared with great gusto, ¡°Fear not, fair maiden and noble comrades! Sir Reginald of the Radiant Order shall rise again to smite this creature of vile origin!¡±


    Braglok snorted, scratching his chin. ¡°Mate, I dunno who yer talkin¡¯ about, but I¡¯m just standin¡¯ ¡®ere.¡±


    Adara leaned closer to Luke, her grin widening. ¡°You really wrote this guy, huh? Like, on purpose?¡±


    Luke ran a hand down his face. ¡°Yes, Adara, I wrote him. And no, he wasn¡¯t this ridiculous when I did.¡±


    Reginald, undeterred by Luke¡¯s apparent disappointment, attempted to rise with great fanfare. Unfortunately, his foot caught on a stray book, sending him tumbling to the floor once again with a resounding clang.


    Adara doubled over with laughter. ¡°Okay, I take it back. He¡¯s exactly like Sir Cadogan. And it¡¯s perfect.¡±


    Luke groaned into his hands. ¡°This is going to be a very long¡­¡± an abrupt ding rang out from the typewriter. He turned toward it, eyes narrowing in suspicion. ¡°What the hell? Why is it making noise? It didn¡¯t even have paper in it a minute ago!¡±


    Adara snapped her head around, her pink hair bouncing as she stared at the suddenly animated typewriter. ¡°Oh no¡­ what now?¡±


    The orc and the elf, both clearly intrigued and no longer at odds, shuffled behind Luke like nosy neighbours leaning in to watch a drama unfold.


    Braglok squinted. ¡°Oi, wots it doin?¡±


    Reginald puffed up his chest, attempting authority despite his slightly dented armour. ¡°Fear not, comrades! I shall investigate this peculiar contraption myself!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Luke said sharply, holding out a hand to stop him. ¡°You¡¯ll probably trip and knock it over. Everyone, just¡­ stay back.¡±


    The typewriter clacked and clicked on its own, the keys moving as if guided by invisible hands. Slowly, a blank piece of paper appeared then rose from the machine, revealing bold, ominous text scrolling across its surface.


    Adara crept closer, her eyes wide. ¡°Is it¡­ typing by itself?¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± Luke deadpanned. ¡°The typewriter is haunted.¡±


    Braglok leaned in, his massive green hand hovering near the paper. ¡°Can I eat it?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Adara hissed, swatting his hand away like an annoyed babysitter. ¡°Just let it finish!¡±


    The note scrolled upward with a distinct finality, revealing a message in crisp, mechanical lettering:


    Hello one, and hello all.


    This is a magical auto-message from the Grand Steam Machinist.


    All alarms have been triggered.


    Beware: the Witch of Nightmares has returned.


    She has somehow found her way back into the Land of Dreams.


    Find the young scribe, Margaret. She is our only hope.


    Silence fell over the group, the room heavy with the gravity of the words, well, for about three seconds.


    ¡°The Witch of Nightmares?¡± Adara read. ¡°What is this, a bad fantasy movie? And who¡¯s Margaret?¡± Adara asked, squinting at the glowing typewriter as if the name might reveal itself. ¡°And what does it mean by our only hope?¡±


    Luke¡¯s brow furrowed, his gut tightening. ¡°Margaret¡¯s my mum¡¯s name.¡±


    Adara froze mid-eye roll. ¡°Wait. Seriously? That can¡¯t be a coincidence, can it?¡±


    Luke paced back and forth, his mind racing. ¡°It¡¯s gotta be¡­ I mean, it¡¯s not like haunted typewriter knows my mum, right?¡± His voice faltered, the absurdity of the day crashing down on him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing furiously. ¡°I¡¯ll just¡­ ask her.¡±


    ¡°Um, what are you doing?¡± Adara leaned closer, peering at the screen.


    ¡°Texting her,¡± Luke replied. His thumbs flew over the keyboard as he typed:


    ¡®Hey Mom, do you know anything about the Witch of Nightmares?¡¯


    ¡°Are you sure she¡¯s not gonna call you crazy?¡± Adara asked.


    Luke shrugged. The phone chimed softly as the message sent. He stared at the screen, waiting, his leg bouncing nervously. The three little dots appeared, signalling his mother was typing.


    Adara slid to his side, watching over his shoulder. ¡°She¡¯s replying!¡±


    Meanwhile, Braglok and Reginald craned their necks, fascinated by the glowing device in Luke¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Oi, what kinda magic box is that?¡± Braglok asked, his tusks gleaming as he leaned closer.


    ¡°It¡¯s a phone,¡± Luke muttered, distracted. ¡°Not magic.¡±


    Adara smirked. ¡°To them, it is. Don¡¯t ruin the mystery.¡±


    The three dots blinked on and off, taunting him. Then, the reply popped up:


    ¡®Come home. Quickly. Bring the typewriter.¡¯


    Luke blinked, rereading the text. ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    ¡°What? She knows about it!¡± Adara said, her brows lifting. ¡°You¡¯re not just going to ignore that, are you?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t ignore it!¡± Luke replied, his voice tinged with panic. ¡°This is insane. Why would she know anything about this?¡±


    Braglok scratched his head. ¡°So¡­ yer mum¡¯s got somethin¡¯ to do with all this nightmare stuff?¡±


    Reginald nodded sagely, as though all mysteries had just been unravelled. ¡°Indeed! She must be a key figure in this tale of destiny and danger! A hidden heroine!¡±


    Luke groaned, shoving his phone into his pocket. ¡°She¡¯s an English teacher. Not exactly ¡®hidden heroine¡¯ material.¡±


    Adara smirked, nudging him playfully. ¡°Well, she did just get called our only hope. You gotta admit, that¡¯s pretty badass.¡±


    Luke let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go to my mum¡¯s place.¡±


    Adara grabbed her bag, grinning. ¡°Road trip with a knight and an orc? This day keeps getting better.¡±


    Braglok pumped his fist into the air. ¡°Long as there¡¯s food, I¡¯m in.¡±


    Reginald raised his blade dramatically. ¡°To the house of Margaret! Let us uncover her secrets and rally against this vile Witch of Nightmares!¡±


    Luke and Adara stared at the typewriter, then at the towering orc and the dramatically armoured elf. The absurdity of their situation weighed heavily in the air.


    Adara broke the silence. ¡°And¡­ How on earth are we supposed to get across campus with these two? They look like extras from a bad fantasy movie.¡±


    Braglok fumbled with the ill-fitting wizard robes that clung awkwardly to his hulking frame. After some grunting and shifting, he produced what looked suspiciously like a tree branch. He held it aloft, his expression serious.


    Adara blinked. ¡°Is that¡­ a stick?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my wand!¡± Braglok declared proudly, waving it with all the flourish of a professional magician.


    ¡°I thought the glowey stick was your wand?¡± asked Luke.


    ¡°Dat was a conduit. Weren¡¯t you listening to the bad lady?¡±


    Luke sighed.


    ¡°Anyways¡­ Watch this!¡± He said then promptly muttered something in garbled Latin, gave the branch another dramatic flick, and, in the blink of an eye, his orcish form morphed into¡­ Luke. Well, a slightly off-brand version of Luke with broader shoulders and a weirdly intense grin complete with buck teeth.


    Adara let out a burst of laughter then raised a hand in protest. ¡°That¡¯s not a real spell! You just waved a stick and, what even was that Latin? It sounded like pig Latin¡¯s awkward cousin!¡±


    Luke sighed. ¡°Adara, it worked. Let¡¯s not question it.¡± He turned to Braglok, now pseudo-Luke, and gestured toward Reginald. ¡°Can you do the same thing to him?¡±


    Before Reginald could object, Braglok waved his ¡°wand¡± again, muttering more dubious Latin. In an instant, the elf was transformed into a pink-haired doppelg?nger of Adara, complete with exaggeratedly large ears and comically oversized feet.


    Adara gasped, staring at the elf. ¡°I do not look like that!¡±


    Luke shrugged, already moving toward the door. ¡°Close enough. It''ll do. We don¡¯t have time for perfection.¡±


    Adara huffed, muttering something about artistic integrity, but she followed as Luke paused by the typewriter. Without a word, he yanked it from the desk and tucked it under his arm.


    ¡°Where are we even going?¡± Adara asked, glancing at the motley crew now following Luke.


    Luke didn¡¯t look back. ¡°My car¡¯s on the other side of campus. Let¡¯s move before anyone notices us.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Adara said with a sigh, glancing at the elf-turned-Adara and orc-turned-Luke trailing behind. ¡°Because nothing about this situation screams notice me.¡±


    The party of four dashed through the winding halls of Birdwing Academy, their footfalls echoing like a chaotic drumbeat. Ahead of them, a harried security guard jogged in the opposite direction, trailed by a cluster of shrieking girls.


    ¡°I swear, it was HUGE!¡± one girl wailed, clutching her friend¡¯s arm.


    ¡°It had tusks!¡± added another, her voice trembling with dramatic fervour.


    The guard sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a big possum. Or, I don¡¯t know, a koala on steroids. Let¡¯s not get carried away.¡± He trudged toward the library, muttering under his breath about kids watching too many monster movies.


    ¡°Keep moving. I parked in the student lots,¡± Luke said puffing.


    As they ran, they remained blissfully unaware of the soft glow within the typewriter intensifying, its light overtaken by a thick, acrid purple haze. Smoke began to snake through the cracks of its casing, curling upward like tendrils of something alive. Luke pressed the typewriter tightly against his chest, oblivious to its ominous transformation, his pace frantic as he bolted toward the nearest exit with a ticking time bomb.

 Chapter 03

    ¡°Where exactly did you park?¡± Adara shouted over her shoulder as she burst through the academy¡¯s automatic double doors, her pink hair catching the sunlight in wild flashes as she bounded down the steps.


    ¡°Closest lot, just to the right!¡± Luke called, sprinting after her, the typewriter cradled in his arms like a live grenade. Behind him, Braggy and Reginald followed in their awkwardly human guises, doing their best to mimic the students¡¯ hurried movements.


    Just as they reached the base of the steps, they skidded to a halt at the feet of a teacher who was carrying a precarious stack of books.


    ¡°Professor Scribner!¡± Adara gasped, her voice high-pitched with panic. ¡°We submitted our stuff! Totally done. A-plus effort. Gotta go now, though¡ªemergency!¡±


    Luke nodded emphatically, his face flushed. ¡°Yeah, super done. No extensions needed. Bye!¡± He tried to edge past the professor, but Scribner¡¯s sharp eyes landed on the typewriter.


    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± Scribner said, stepping back cautiously. ¡°That¡­ is the academy¡¯s typewriter, isn¡¯t it? Why is it smoking?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it! All under control!¡± Adara said, waving frantically as if swatting away concerns.


    ¡°Very controlled!¡± Luke added, though the typewriter let out a menacing whir-click as he said it. Scribner took another cautious step back, eyeing the device with suspicion.


    ¡°Do I want to know?¡± the professor asked, his tone dry.


    ¡°Probably not!¡± Adara chirped, grabbing Luke¡¯s sleeve and dragging him away. ¡°Bye!¡±


    ¡°Good luck with¡­ whatever this is,¡± Scribner called after them, his curiosity battling with a healthy dose of self-preservation. ¡°Just bring back the school property when you¡¯re done!¡±


    Luke tightened his grip on the typewriter as they sprinted toward the parking lot. ¡°It¡¯s over¡­¡± he began, but the machine in his arms let out another ominous whir-click followed by a low, unsettling groan.


    ¡°Uh oh,¡± Luke muttered, his knuckles whitening as purple smoke began to waft ominously from within the typewriter.


    Adara glanced back, her pink hair flying wildly behind her. ¡°Let¡¯s move!¡±


    ¡°I AM MOVING! Just keep going!¡± Luke shouted; his voice tight with panic as he gestured frantically toward the car park.


    The typewriter suddenly spat out a surge of dark energy, a spark crackling and fizzling against Luke¡¯s arm. ¡°Ow! Seriously, what now?¡± he yelped, clutching the rebellious machine tighter.


    Adara shot him a look as she kept running. ¡°Nothing good, I¡¯m guessing. Just keep running!¡±


    Their frantic dash hit an unexpected obstacle¡ªa large crowd of students idling at the bus stop. Some scrolled through their phones, others chatted, blissfully unaware of the chaos barrelling toward them.


    ¡°Everyone, make way! Danger! Danger is coming!¡± Adara bellowed like an overzealous theatre kid.


    Reginald, still mirroring Adara¡¯s pink-haired doppelg?nger with exaggerated features, jumped in with equal enthusiasm. ¡°Clear the way, mortals! Peril approaches!¡± His voice boomed, startling a group of students into dropping their coffees.


    Adara spun mid-run, glaring daggers at her overly dramatic copycat. ¡°Shush, I already said something!¡±


    ¡°Oh! My sincerest apologies, m¡¯lady! The stage is yours!¡±


    ¡°Go! GO! It¡¯s the silver one with roof racks!¡± Luke shouted.


    Fumbling with the keys in his pocket as he ran, Luke spared a glance at the typewriter. The thing was practically alive, purple sparks spitting and sizzling from its seams like it was about to explode. ¡°We¡¯re running out of time!¡±


    Finally, he managed to fish his keys out and clicked the unlock button. The silver car¡¯s lights flashed, a comforting confirmation of its location. ¡°There! Go, go, go!¡±


    But before any of them could reach the car, a sharp, crack split the air. Above the parking lot, the fabric of reality twisted and tore open, forming a jagged rift that hovered ominously in mid-air, bubbling with purple energy instead of the previous golden glow.


    ¡°Well¡­ That¡¯s different,¡± mumbled Adara.


    From the tear emerged a massive stone gargoyle. Its bulbous, heavy form shimmered with pulsating purple veins of light, its stocky arms rippling with raw power. However, its comically tiny wings flapped uselessly, as if even the laws of magic couldn¡¯t lift such a hulking creature.


    Adara¡¯s eyes widened as she skidded to a halt. ¡°Oh, come on! A gargoyle? Really? Did you write that one too?¡±


    Luke shook his head. ¡°No! No, I did not!¡±


    Braglok tilted his head, his oversized ¡°wand¡± still clutched tightly in his hand. ¡°Think it¡¯s friendly?¡±


    The gargoyle roared, an ear-splitting sound that rang through the parking lot. With an inevitable finality, it plummeted from the rift above, its bulbous, stone form careening downward. Instead of smashing into the asphalt, it landed squarely on Luke¡¯s car with a bone-rattling crunch.


    ¡°Nooooooo!¡± Luke wailed as the vehicle crumpled under the gargoyle¡¯s immense weight. The windshield shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, and the frame sagged under the pressure, emitting a tortured groan. The car didn¡¯t explode outright but instead acted as a reluctant cushion.


    The group stood frozen, staring at the scene in wide-eyed disbelief. The gargoyle perched awkwardly on the now thoroughly mangled car, its glowing amethyst eyes scanning its surroundings as if confused by its own destructive landing.


    Luke¡¯s hands shot into his hair, his voice rising in a mixture of despair and outrage. ¡°Are you kidding me?! My car!¡±


    ¡°I hope you''re insured.¡± said Adara.


    Reginald, ever the dramatist, placed a hand solemnly on his chest. ¡°What foul villainy is this? To bring such ruin upon thy noble steed!¡±


    Braglok tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled. ¡°Wot¡¯s a steed? That don¡¯t look like a horse.¡±


    Adara groaned, throwing her hands up. ¡°Can we focus here? There¡¯s still a giant gargoyle sitting on it!¡±


    The gargoyle shifted slightly, the wrecked car groaning ominously beneath it. The tension in the air grew thicker, but all Luke could do was stare at the destruction, muttering under his breath, ¡°Why me?¡±


    The gargoyle shifted, its stocky arms pushing against the crumpled metal, its tiny wings flapping feebly in an almost comedic attempt to steady itself. Purple sparks crackled ominously as it turned its glowing eyes toward them.


    Braglok gulped audibly. ¡°Yeah¡­ not friendly.¡±


    ¡°What are we going to do now?¡± Luke asked, barely holding himself together.


    A deep rumble rolled over the hill to their left, cutting off any further lamenting. The sound grew louder, accompanied by the screeching of tyres and a glint of red metal gliding towards them. The vehicle was massive, propped up on enormous black tyres that chewed up the pavement as it barrelled toward them like a mechanical red beast.


    Luke squinted at the front grill, the word Jeep glaring back at him. His eyebrow arched in confusion. ¡°What the¡­?¡±


    From the driver¡¯s seat, a purple Mohawk poked out, followed by a feisty voice yelling, ¡°Got your text, Kiddo! Pulled a U-turn on the highway through oncoming traffic, and¡ª¡± She froze mid-sentence, eyes locking on the stone gargoyle wreaking havoc behind them. ¡°What the hell is that?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The massive stone creature roared, reducing Luke¡¯s silver car¡ªand several others nearby¡ªinto shrapnel with one mighty swing of its flailing limbs.


    ¡°No time to explain, Mum!¡± Adara yelled as she flung open the front passenger¡¯s door. ¡°We gotta go, and we gotta go now!¡±


    Adara¡¯s mum didn¡¯t blink, rolling with the madness like she¡¯d been waiting for this moment her entire life. ¡°Sure,¡± she said, twisting in her seat. ¡°But who are your friends?¡±


    She took a long look at Reginald, who was still a walking, pink-haired doppelg?nger of her daughter, and her head cocked in disbelief. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s new.¡±


    ¡°Move!¡± Adara barked as she climbed in, and all four scrambled into the vehicle. Luke clambered into the back, clutching the sparking, smoking typewriter.


    The doors slammed shut with a jarring thud. ¡°Go, go, go!¡± Adara yelled, twisting in her seat to look at Luke. ¡°Where are we even going?¡±


    Luke barely had time to respond. He turned his attention to the backseat, where Braglok and Reginald were awkwardly wrestling with the unfamiliar contraptions known as seatbelts.


    ¡°This is for your safety!¡± Luke shouted, leaning over and fumbling with the buckle near Braglok, who was poking at the belt like it might bite him. ¡°Just hold still and stop squirming!¡±


    Braglok growled, waving his large hands. ¡°I don¡¯t need no strappy thing! I¡¯ve got muscles for protection!¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Well, muscles won¡¯t help you when you¡¯re flying through the windshield!¡± Luke snapped, forcing the buckle into place with a satisfying click. ¡°There. Safe.¡±


    Meanwhile, Reginald, in full dramatic flair, was attempting to fend off the seatbelt as though it were a venomous snake. ¡°What devilry is this? I shan¡¯t be bound like some common prisoner!¡±


    ¡°Shut up and sit still!¡± Luke barked, grabbing the belt and yanking it across Reginald¡¯s chest.


    Adara, smirking in the front seat, glanced over at her mum, Rory, who was gripping the steering wheel with a mix of amusement and determination.


    ¡°They¡¯re worse than kids,¡± Luke muttered.


    Adara¡¯s mum snorted but kept her focus on the road as the engine roared to life. ¡°Kids, monsters¡­ same same. Now, where are we going, genius?¡±


    Luke finally slumped back into his seat, exasperated but victorious. ¡°Sam¡¯s Ravine! I¡¯ll give you directions! Just drive!¡±


    Adara twisted in her seat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, where?¡±


    ¡°Sam¡¯s Ravine!¡± Luke repeated over the roar of the engine.


    ¡°Sam¡¯s Ravine?¡± Adara echoed.


    Luke nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s by the Badmoon River, right?¡± Adara asked.


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll give directions. Just drive! Fast!¡± Luke shouted, gripping the seat as tightly as the smoking typewriter in his lap.


    Adara¡¯s mum floored the pedal, and the Jeep roared to life with a guttural growl. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Floyd!¡± she called out, yanking the steering wheel with the kind of confidence that made the passengers bounce against their seats like popcorn in a hot pan.


    ¡°Floyd?¡± Luke asked, shooting Adara a baffled look.


    ¡°She named the car,¡± Adara said with a shrug, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.


    ¡°Ah, gotcha,¡± Luke replied, trying not to think too hard about it.


    Meanwhile, Braglok and Reginald, both woefully unprepared for the magic of modern Earth¡¯s vehicular technology, were not handling the situation gracefully. Braglok pressed his massive hands flat against the door, his eyes wide with panic. ¡°This is sorcery!¡±


    Reginald, in true theatrical fashion, flailed dramatically in his seat as though the Jeep were a runaway dragon. ¡°We¡¯re doomed! This infernal contraption shall be our end!¡±


    ¡°Calm down, you two!¡± Adara snapped, twisting around to glare at them. ¡°It¡¯s just a car! You¡¯re not going to die!¡±


    Her words, however, faltered as her gaze caught the rear-view mirror. Her stomach dropped. The gargoyle, now glowing with a menacing purple energy, had locked onto their bright red escape vehicle. Its massive form thundered after them, every step making the ground quake like an oncoming storm.


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Adara groaned. ¡°Mum, faster! The giant murder rock is chasing us!¡±


    ¡°Already on it, sweetheart!¡± she barked, slamming her foot down harder on the accelerator. The Jeep roared louder, tires squealing as it sped ahead.


    Luke clutched the typewriter tighter, glancing nervously between Adara and the ominous shape growing larger in the distance. ¡°Any chance Floyd has rocket boosters?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me!¡±


    ¡°Uh, guys? It¡¯s chasing us,¡± she said, her voice pitching higher.


    Luke craned his neck to look. ¡°Turn left here!¡± he shouted.


    The Jeep jolted sharply, sending everyone lurching to the right as Adara¡¯s mum twisted the wheel with expert precision.


    ¡°Go faster, Mum!¡± Adara yelled.


    ¡°What about the wildlife?¡± her mum shouted back.


    Adara pointed frantically behind them. ¡°The wildlife is trying to kill us!¡±


    The Jeep roared down the road, bouncing over potholes as the gargoyle¡¯s thunderous stomps grew louder behind them. Purple sparks danced ominously in the rearview mirror, and Luke clutched the typewriter like it held the secret to life itself¡ªthough right now, survival seemed like a higher priority.


    Adara twisted in her seat, her pink hair whipping around as she shouted, ¡°What do we do? What are we even doing?¡±


    ¡°Throw shit at it!¡± her mum yelled, gripping the wheel with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other.


    Luke¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Like what?!¡±


    Reginald held up a hand. ¡°Pray tell, madam, what manner of excrement dost thou request we hurl? Are we speaking of literal dung, or merely items of symbolic disdain?¡±


    Adara spun in her seat, groaning. ¡°She means anything! Junk! Stuff!¡±


    As Luke turned back, his eyes landed on a large case of beer wedged in the boot. ¡°Wait, throw anything?¡±


    ¡°Yes, anything!¡±


    Luke handed the typewriter to Braglok, who looked far too enthusiastic about holding it, and lunged for the beer. Ripping open the cardboard case, he yanked out a bottle and hurled it over his shoulder. The can flew through the air and smashed against the road in front of the gargoyle, spraying golden liquid and glass everywhere. Without missing a beat, Luke grabbed another, then another, lobbing them like grenades.


    The driver¡¯s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and her jaw dropped. ¡°Not the beer! Anything but the beer!¡± she shrieked.


    The orc, meanwhile, raised the typewriter as if preparing to throw it.


    ¡°NO!¡± both Luke and Adara shouted in unison.


    ¡°Are you a wizard or not?!¡± Adara yelled, turning to Braglok. ¡°Cast a spell or something, anything!¡±


    Braglok blinked, his green brow furrowing in thought before his face lit up. ¡°Oh yeah, right!¡± He shoved the typewriter into Reginalds lap and waved his massive wand like an orchestra conductor on a caffeine high.


    ¡°Yer doom¡¯s comin¡¯, ya big rock chicken!¡± Braglok roared, waving his wand like he was swatting flies. He bellowed something that sounded like mangled Latin mixed with a bad nursery rhyme. Bright bursts of light shot out wildly, zigzagging everywhere but toward the gargoyle.


    ¡°It¡¯s not working!¡± Braglok cried.


    ¡°Keep trying!¡± Adara urged.


    As Braglok continued his pathetic but visually stunning attempts, Adara turned back to her mum with a plan smeared over her face. ¡°Hey¡­ Mum, do you still have that giant roller thing in the boot?¡±


    ¡°You mean Fabio?¡± her mum replied. ¡°Of course.¡±


    Adara¡¯s eyes gleamed with chaotic glee. ¡°Perfect!¡± She clambered over Luke, bowling him sideways as she rummaged through the back. ¡°Switch with me!¡± she commanded, shoving him toward the front seat.


    Luke fumbled with his seat belt then scrambled into the passenger seat, his voice shaking as he shouted, ¡°Turn left here!¡±


    Meanwhile, Adara pulled out a long blue Styrofoam noodle from the depths of the boot, holding it aloft like a knight brandishing a sword. ¡°Braglok!¡± she called out. ¡°Do you know how to cast an Engorgio charm?¡±


    The orc nodded eagerly. ¡°Aye, I can give it a go!¡±


    ¡°Good! Cast it on this!¡± She thrust the noodle out the back of the jeep.


    ¡°Noooo! Fabio!¡±


    The orc bellowed a garbled incantation, something that sounded like, ¡°Engorgio, biggy-sticky-o!¡± A flash of green light erupted from his wand, striking the Styrofoam noodle with sheer dumb luck. In an instant, the noodle expanded into a massive, 30-foot-long rolling pin with an 8-foot-wide diameter, bouncing off the road with a satisfying thud.


    ¡°Whoa!¡± Luke exclaimed, craning his neck to peer into the rear-view mirror.


    The gargoyle, still glowing ominously with purple energy, charged forward, its eyes locked on the Jeep like a predator homing in on its prey. That is, until its hulking stone foot collided with the absurdly oversized foam roller.


    CRASH!


    The impact sent the gargoyle into a spectacular tumble, flipping head over heels with a series of deafening crashes. Shards of stone flew everywhere as its momentum carried it into a heap of rubble.


    ¡°HA! Take that, rock face!¡± Adara whooped, pumping her fist in the air. ¡°Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about!¡±


    Braglok grinned, puffing out his chest. ¡°Told ya I¡¯m good at spelling!¡±


    ¡°Bravo, good orc! Thy magic strikes truer than Cupid¡¯s arrow! And thee, Lady Adara, thy wit cuts sharper than Excalibur itself! Together, a fearsome duo indeed!¡±


    Adara shot him a sideways glance, smirking. ¡°Thanks, Shakespeare. Maybe keep the compliments rolling; they¡¯re kinda growing on me.¡±


    Luke slumped back into his seat, clutching the dashboard for dear life. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that actually worked.¡±


    ¡°Fabio to the rescue!¡± Adara added.


    ¡°His sacrifice will never be forgotten.¡± Adara¡¯s mum said, her hands steady on the wheel as she pressed the pedal to the floor, the Jeep roaring forward. ¡°You lot are absolutely mental. I love it. Now, where to?¡±


    "Alright, head straight for another three k¡¯s, then hang a left and a right," Luke instructed.


    With the chaos of flying beer bottles and gargoyle-chucking noodles behind them, the Jeep settled into a relative calm, the hum of the engine filling the tense silence.


    Adara¡¯s mum, her purple Mohawk bouncing away as she drove, finally broke the ice. ¡°Well, now that we¡¯re not actively being chased by stone monsters, I suppose introductions are in order,¡± she said, gripping the wheel with one hand and gesturing vaguely at the passengers with the other. ¡°Name¡¯s Rory. And you lot?¡±


    Adara leaned back with a smirk, pointing first at Luke. ¡°That¡¯s Luke. Our local logic lover who thought it was a good idea to toss beer bottles at a gargoyle.¡±


    Luke raised a defensive hand. ¡°It was working! Kind of.¡±


    Rory shot him a glance in the rear-view mirror. ¡°My beer? Really?¡±


    Adara pointed next at the doppelg?ngers. ¡°And these two? Well, they¡¯re¡­ complicated. That¡¯s Braggy¡ªuh, Braglok¡ªcurrently disguised as Luke 2.0. And Sir Faceplant over there is Reginald,¡±


    Reginald, now seated with dramatic poise, tipped an imaginary hat. ¡°Sir Reginald of the Radiant Order, at your service, noble Rory. May I say, your steed is most impressive.¡±


    ¡°Steed?¡± Rory snorted. ¡°You mean my Floyd? Sure, let¡¯s go with that.¡±


    Adara leaned forward, her words spilling out in a frantic, jumbled rush. ¡°Okay, so today was insane. I forgot my USB, so we used this typewriter¡ªtotally magical, by the way¡ªand it brought these two to life.¡± She waved at Braglok and Reginald, who both gave awkward little waves in return. ¡°Then this evil librarian tricked us, got herself sucked into it, and now she¡¯s off doing who-knows-what in who-knows-where. Oh, and the typewriter is going nuts¡ªsparks, purple glow, the works. Oh, and there¡¯s this whole ¡®witch of nightmares¡¯ thing we think it¡¯s tied to. That¡¯s basically it.¡±


    Rory raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and reluctant acceptance. ¡°Magical typewriters, evil librarians, and a witch of nightmares. Right. Just another perfectly normal day.¡±