A pale golden light cut through the curtains the next morning. It reached across the bed to touch Mena’s face, causing her to grumble and groan. There was no more time to hide in a world of sleep; it was the third and final day of the seminar.

She pushed the covers, sliding out of bed and drew the curtains, but she immediately wished she hadn’t. The sun had come up over neurotica, tainting everything a sickly gold color. Over the building of Love Ink, billowing storm clods stretched and swirled, forming ominous facial features—a woman’s façade with devil-like, golden eyes and a fanged mouth ready to emit a terrifying scream at any second.

The people of the metropolis, like tiny insects awaiting a deluge of rainfall, continued like nothing was happening. A health fanatic jogged around the center fountain as children played and old folks basked in the eerie glow.

A soft mew startled Mena as she observed the foreboding change in the weather. She turned around. Auntie Grizabella sat on Mena’s bed with her green, marble like eyes observing her niece. There was a note at her feet.

“Good morning, auntie,” Mena said with a resigned sigh as she clutched the paper and read the ink imprinted on it.

“Good morning, my niece,” Mena read aloud. “Today will require absolute discipline and a quick wit to rescue your friend, but that’s not the reason I wrote this message”—Mena’s eyes widened as she continued to read aloud—“There is something I must tell you about Anguish the Blood Siren…after we save your friend. I would tell you now, but the emotions of the past would cloud your judgement of the present.”

Mena gripped the letter tightly. “That’s for the best, auntie”—her head gazed at the ground— “If I knew how Anguish murdered my parents, I wouldn’t be so cool, calm and collected to save Dede…It’s for the best I don’t know, for now.”

Auntie Grizabella mewled and nodded in agreement. Mena’s stomach growled. She didn’t feel like eating, but she knew she’d need all the energy she could get. She walked into the kitchen to greet May, Janus and the handsome marble statue chef for what might be her final meal if things didn’t go as planned.

***

The Journey to Love Ink was a lot quieter and certainly less prattier thanks to Nick’s absence, but May quivered in her magi-chair over the prospect of coming face-to-face with the most notorious, blood-thirsty witch in all Autolycus. Making eye contact with her friend, Mena gave her friend a warm, consoling smile. “Don’t worry, May,” she said as she strolled along her hovering friend. “I know it’s scary, but you only need to be there long as it takes to rescue Dede. After that, you can split faster than a banana.”

Janus also gave May a reassuring glance. “As always, the safe world is kumquats. Call it out and we’ll come running.”

May’s face eased into a round timid smile. “And how will I know when I should get out of there?”

Mena placed her fingers to her chin, and her eyes brightened like the lamp she was holding. “I shall sing the chorus of Taylor Witch’s smash hit, ‘Toil and Trouble.’ I’ve been playing it on repeat since my catastrophic teenage break up with Nick, so I memorized all the lyrics by heart.”

Janus smiled wryly. “But isn’t the song mostly the chorus repeated over and over, like most teen pop music?”

“Duh,” Mena exclaimed “Why do you think I got it memorized?”

May chuckled. She could always count on her friends to lighten the mood, even when they were about to face the greatest threat they had ever encountered. When they arrived at Love Ink, May put on a brave face as the demonic essence in the clouds stifled a grasp over the building.

When May entered the seminar room, the remaining two people reminded her of the souls of former contestants that had departed. “I’ll do it for them too,” May muttered as her magi-chair flew towards Penwell and Poshleen. Poshleen had donned an electric blue, lace-front dress and a matching blue bonnet, but there was a severe look in her eye that contrasted her frilly attire.

“Welcome Maylene,” Penwell smiled, spreading her arms. “to the third and final day of the Seminar.”

She gestured to two large Mental Notes covered in a black blanket. “This is the most important day for both of you. It shall determine who will bask in their moment of glory, while the other languishes in obscurity forever.”

Daggers practically shot from Poshleen’s eyes searing into May’s face, as Penwell held her hands up to the two veiled notebooks. “You must be wondering?” Penwell asked. “How do we determine that?”

Penwell clapped her hands and in a puff of purple smoke, two wooden boxes appeared in her hands. They opened magically to reveal two ink-black quills. “With a war of words of course.”

Poshleen and May both looked at each other in disbelief. “With these shadow quills, you will do battle by writing wordy weapons into existence.”

Penwell let out a guffaw as she received a look of confusion from both combatants. “When you write with these, you’ll find the pen is sometimes mightier than the sword. Now go on. Take them.”

Poshleen instantly grabbed hers, but May was hesitant. She looked around hoping that Mena, Janus and Mena’s aunt were watching her from above, but without any other choice, she also grabbed hers.

Penwell smirked and turned to the Mental Notes behind them. “Excellent, my Warriors of Words. And before we begin, let me show you the prize for your victory. The winner will be instantly published, their greatest dreams and wishes will become reality and to show you the prowess of your work, here are the imprinted covers from last session. When you win, they will go into print for thousands to read.”

Penwell unsheathed the blanket on the right one. It was a lifesize replica of Fifteen Lampshades of Green. May gasped, her jaw nearly smashing into the ground. Everything from the elegant cursive font to Svetlana Supermatrix’s dowdy veneer was featured on the mockup of her cover. It was awe-inspiring. May forgot about the mission and basked in its glory for a few moments.

Penwell removed the other sheet and it soon sent May crashing down from her lofty position in the stars. A blood red body framed Poshleen’s cover. In jet black lettering, it read, “The Blood Red Heiress.”

Penwell chortled coldly. “Whoever wins this match, through whatever means, will dwell in the annals of greatest writers in all of existence. The loser is best forgotten, like most dime store authors. And with that, let this battle commence.”

“The Blood Red Heiress?” May gulped as she read Poshleen’s book title again. “Who is that? That sure is a scary book title.”

“What’s the matter?” Poshleen growled. Her voice had seemingly lost all her dainty mannerisms. “Is all you read is that frilly romance? Have you never read a murder mystery novel?”

The aristocratic girl gritted her teeth, and her breath charged the air. “The Blood Red Heiress will be me once this fight is over,” and wrapped her fingers around the quill like a short blade.

“But the heiress of what?” May asked, flinching over Poshleen’s sudden descent into psychosis.

“The Blood Red Heiress of the Dubois family,” Poshleen spat. “I’m related to my family, not by blood. Unable to come up with a child, my mumsy and papa adopted me.”

May’s eyes grew wider and wider as she stood in silence. She remembered the cruel beating that Poshleen had endured at her father’s hand at the Dream Castle.

Poshleen’s bonnet dropped over her face, shadowing it. “But they soon came to loath me. I was so close to what they wanted, but not close enough. And that meant endless years of cruelty and pain.”

Poshleen drew her quill up to her face. “But they will come to accept me…when I become the True Blood Red Heiress.”

The aristocrat scribbled in the air and her quill became a foot long dagger, almost as wide as her smile. “Know why they call my book a murder mystery novel?”

“Whuh-why?” May asked.

“Because,” Poshleen said, drawing her dagger. “It will be a mystery what happened to May Cumberson when I murder you.”

May’s lips trembled. She tried to force some words out.

“What’s wrong?” Poshleen snarled.

At last, May finally blurted out her words, “MUMMY SAID IT’S NOT NICE TO KILL PEOPLE.”