He held the pen with awe and admiration. It was a legend in the brotherhood, it held memories worthy to kill for. Now that it was in his possession, he could write his own destiny. But, for the pen to be his, he needs to get rid of the legitimate owner first. A smile crept across his ugly face. In the meantime, he also needed to flee to a more secure location. He went out of the room and crossed the patio carefully not to be seen. But he didn’t know that his fate was sealed from the moment he took the step out of the room with the pen in his left hand.
It was almost dark outside. A tall silhouette was seen trying to make its way into the main hall. He needed a few more steps to get out of the hall remaining unseen. He was almost halfway to the door when he felt a pain in his chest. He screamed placing his right hand on his heart. He stopped short expecting someone to rush into the hall. But a silence of death surrounded him. Although it was just a few steps to the exit, he didn’t dare to move. He felt the change. Something was not right. He could feel the air cooling, and the sound of his breath getting louder than the night’s whispers. He looked at The Pen that was still in his left hand, and it was then he understood it all.
The magical ink was getting into him, turning his blood into ink. He tried to throw the pen, but his fist wouldn’t open. His heart started to beat faster, the sudden freezing air was burning his lungs. He ran for the door. As soon as he touched the doorknob with his right hand, the cold burning sensation made him scream even louder. He couldn’t take his hand off the door as it froze to the knob.
The power of the Pen was more than he could handle. It was using his blood to destroy him. He couldn’t feel his body anymore. The ink was poisoning his heart and brain while the cold was freezing the entire hall. He screamed for help the last time before falling into an eternal sleep, while the Pen used his last drop of blood to write his Master’s destiny