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Ink stepped back from the dropped hammer.

“I… I didn’t want to… I didn’t mean to! I want to undo it.”

His ghostly companion floated onwards, wordlessly. Ink watched her move ahead without him. He looked around, panicked and unsure of what to do next. He got up and ran after the ghost, leaving the toy hammer behind. She had stopped infront of a spotlight. The page that the light was shone on folded into Deletey. He stared at Ink with a piercing glare.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself Ink. I mean, you can’t take it back can ya? It’s done, you killed someone. You, Ink, the defender of AUs and the assistant to their creators, is a murderer.” The page laughed. “And she saved you from me when you are no better! It’s delicious! I’ll see you later, you little murderer you.” He folded away


Ink held his arms and stared at the pages beneath his feet.

“I’m not a murder… It was an accident!” He struggled to calm down, his breath became rapid and panicked.

“It was an accident!” Ink collapsed to his knees, screaming and held his head.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, AN ACCIDENT, AN ACCIDENT!” He burst into tears. “I’M NOT A MURDERER! I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT!” Ink cried out to the pages in pain and frustration. He remained like this for several minutes.


“Ink…” She floated down over to him. The spectre knew she had to get him moving again, and the only way to do that was remind him of who he was. 

“Ink, look at me.” Tears rolling down his cheeks, Ink stared into her eyes.

“You are Ink. The guardian of AUs. You need to get out of the Wiki to do your job. That’s what matters. You need to move forward or Cre died for no reason. Now get up and walk through that door!” Gesturing to the doors that blocked their way.


“You…" The words caught in his throat. He sniffed.

"You’re right! I am Ink! I have universes to save.” He was still crying but atleast regained his drive. Ink got up and ran to the door and pushed against it with all his might. The lock opened easily, snapping out of his way and causing him to fall forward into the white powder on the other side of the entrance. The material crunched under his hands. His scarf fell into the fine particles directly under him. He stood up and looked closely at his hand and the dust that covered it. The gentle breeze told him he was no longer inside. Hoping to see the sky, he looked up and saw thick grey clouds that blocked out any sun that may or may not exist. From these clouds fell light grey particles. They looked like snow. They weren’t though, too warm and not white enough. As he took his first step into this new world, feeling the dust crunch under his shoes. He wanted so badly to look back at his own prints and watch the patterns get filled in too but now was not the time. No, forward was the only direction… Ok, one look.


He turned on his heel and stared at the lesser pages. His trail of paint left a line of colour in the grey that cover the pages. Unfortunately, this glimmer of joy was overshadowed by the black plume of smoke that rose from the building he had come from. It explained everything about these strange falling flakes. It was ash that filled the sky. The remains of all the deleted pages fell around him, burying the articles in this area. Death shadowing birth, destruction hiding creation. It had to be stopped. Filled with a new conviction, he moved forward, no looking back, no regrets.


End of part 12

Part 11

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