She walked out into the rainy October night, leaving Lucas Vane standing alone in a room full of drying ink. And on the table, where the creature had been, a single drop of ink trembled—then shaped itself into a tiny, smiling raven. It spread its wings, flew to Megan’s shoulder, and dissolved into a happy smudge on her collar.
The Hollow tilted its head. Lucas took a step back. “What are you doing?” megan inky
Megan’s heart hammered. He was right. If this got out, she’d be a lab experiment or a circus act. There was no middle ground. She walked out into the rainy October night,
“Lucas?” She instinctively covered her drawing with a sketchbook. “What are you doing here?” The Hollow tilted its head
“Your wish,” it whispered, in a voice like dry leaves skittering across pavement.
Megan looked from the creepy drawing to Lucas’s earnest, hungry face. “That’s insane. I’m not drawing some nightmare monster for your family’s creepy wish-granting fantasy.”
She poured everything into the drawing. Her exhaustion. Her anger. Her desperate hope. The ink seemed to hum under her fingers. The lines thickened and thinned like living veins. The figure on the page began to pulse—a slow, dark heartbeat.