EIGHTEEN HOURS UNTIL REWRITE - WAR ROOM
"She's lying."
I looked up from the scattered documents. Ezra stood at the window, staff glowing faintly.
"What?"
"The false-Sera. The one claiming to be the original author." Ezra turned. "She's LYING. I can feel it. The magical signature is WRONG."
"Explain," Kassandra demanded.
"I'm a MAGE. I sense energy patterns. Magical resonance." Ezra walked to the center of the room. "When the REAL Sera—our Sera—transformed into the world, she left a SIGNATURE. It's EVERYWHERE now. In the wind. The flowers. The very FABRIC of reality. I feel it constantly."
"And?" I pressed.
"And that thing in the square? It had Sera's APPEARANCE. Her voice. But the energy was DIFFERENT. WRONG. Like—" Ezra struggled for words. "—like a COPY. A forgery. Same handwriting but different INK."
Hope flickered. "So it's not the original author?"
