Eloise**
The battlefield was a storm of chaos. The dragon's roars rattled the earth, its fire illuminating the night like a second sun. The clang of metal against scales, the shouts of warriors, the scent of burning—everything was overwhelming.
And yet, I was not afraid.
Because I had prepared for this.
The night before, while Caius and the others sharpened their blades and reinforced their armor, I had locked myself in my room with nothing but my pen and paper.
If I had learned anything in this world, it was that my words held power.
So I wrote.
I wrote the battle as I imagined it. I mapped out the dragon's movements, its weaknesses, the moment when it would falter. I wrote the path of every warrior, ensuring their survival. I wove the story carefully, subtly, so that reality would bend, but not break. If I changed too much, the world would push back—just like before.
And most importantly, I wrote a way to save the dwarf clan.
Now, as I stood amidst the chaos, I could see my words coming to life.
Boren and his warriors attacked from the left, exactly as I had predicted. The dragon, enraged, struck down, its massive tail sweeping the ground, but the warriors had just enough time to dodge—because I had written it that way.
Caius fought at the front, his blade slicing through the air, meeting the beast's claws in a deadly dance. He was breathtaking in battle—calm, precise, relentless.
And me?
I was not a warrior. But I had my own weapon.
As the battle raged, I pulled out my pen and the small notebook tucked into my belt. The pages glowed faintly under my fingertips. I wrote quickly, altering the battle just enough to give us an edge.
**The dragon falters, blinded by a sudden gust of wind carrying dust into its eyes.**
At that moment, a powerful gust howled through the battlefield, lifting dirt and ash, momentarily disorienting the beast.
The warriors seized the opportunity, striking with renewed force.
I kept writing.
**The dragon's flames weaken, its energy beginning to drain.**
The next time the dragon opened its mouth to release a torrent of fire, it sputtered, the flames dimming as if exhausted.
I was changing fate, little by little.
But the more I wrote, the dizzier I became.
I could feel the energy draining from me. This power—it wasn't infinite. It took something from me every time I used it.
And then, something went wrong.
A deafening *crack* rang through the air.
I looked up just in time to see the dragon's tail crashing down—aimed straight at Caius.
I hadn't foreseen this.
"No—!"
Without thinking, I dropped my notebook and ran.
Caius turned at the last second, eyes widening as the tail hurtled toward him. There was no time for him to dodge.
I reached out, grasping at the only power I had left. My fingers burned as I willed reality to change.
**The tail misses.**
Something *snapped* inside me.
The world *shuddered.*
At the last moment, the dragon's tail veered just an inch off course, slamming into the ground beside Caius instead. The impact sent him flying, but he was alive.
I gasped, my vision blurring.
This power—this ability to write fate—it was too much.
I collapsed to my knees, panting. My hands trembled violently. I couldn't keep this up much longer.
But I had to.
For Caius.
For the dwarf clan.
For the world I had created.
I forced myself to my feet, gripping my pen like a sword.
This battle wasn't over.
And I wasn't done writing.
____
Everything hurt.
My fingers trembled as I clutched my pen, the ink shimmering unnaturally against the page. My vision blurred, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I had already pushed myself past my limit, but I wasn't done yet.
Not until he won.
The battle raged around me, the heat of the dragon's flames scorching the air. Warriors clashed steel against scale, arrows rained from the cliffs, and Caius—Caius fought like a storm, his blade striking true, his body moving with a deadly grace.
But the dragon was relentless.
Wounded, enraged, it let out a deafening roar, its massive form thrashing, knocking warriors aside like dolls. It was desperate now, sensing its approaching demise, and desperation made it even more dangerous.
Caius wasn't fast enough.
I could see it—the slight miscalculation, the way his stance faltered for just a second. The dragon's massive claws slashed toward him, and in that moment, I knew—he wouldn't be able to dodge in time.
I didn't think. I *wrote.*
**Caius finds the opening. His sword, swift as lightning, cuts through the weak spot beneath the dragon's neck.**
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest as the words burned onto the page. My entire body seized, as if I had just torn something out of myself.
But I saw it happen.
Caius moved just as I had written. His eyes flickered with understanding—no, instinct—as if he knew this moment was meant to be. His grip tightened around his sword, and with one final step, he *drove* the blade upward, straight into the dragon's throat.
The world held its breath.
The dragon let out a strangled, guttural sound—one last, terrible gasp—before its massive body shuddered. Its wings twitched, its claws dug into the ground. And then—
It collapsed.
The battlefield fell into silence.
For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. Even the wind had died down, as if the world itself was acknowledging the end of the battle.
Then, a roar of victory erupted from the warriors.
The dwarf clan cheered, weapons raised, voices filled with relief and triumph. I could barely hear them, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
Caius stood over the dragon's corpse, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion, his sword slick with blood. His gaze lifted toward me, as if searching for my face amidst the chaos.
I wanted to smile at him, to tell him that he had won. That everything had gone as planned.
But the world was spinning.
I had done too much.
The ink on my page flickered, dimming like a dying ember. My fingers slipped from my pen. My body swayed.
Before the darkness took me, I had only one thought.
*Caius won.*
And that was enough.