The Arch-Scribe tried to write a 'Death' symbol on Elias's chest, but the bone-pen shattered the moment it touched Elias's skin.
"You can't write a story for someone who owns the ink," Elias whispered.
He didn't kill the man. Instead, he reached into the Arch-Scribe's mind and pulled. He didn't take the man's life; he took his Authority. He stripped away the title of Arch-Scribe, leaving behind nothing but a confused, elderly man who didn't even remember how to hold a pen.
Elias turned to the sky, looking directly into the eyes of the smoke-giant descending from the clouds.
"Oakhaven is finished with your design," Elias commanded, his voice vibrating the very foundations of the earth. "Go back to the Void. The 13th Hour is over. It's time for the sun to rise on a world without a script."
He slammed his hand against the stone railing of the balcony, sending a final, massive shockwave of gold and violet energy into the sky. The smoke-giant shrieked, its form dissolving into the morning mist. The purple sky bled away, replaced by the first true rays of sunshine Oakhaven had seen in a century.
The city was in ruins. The Cathedral was a hollow shell. But as the people in the plaza began to stand up, helping one another amidst the rubble, Elias felt something he had never felt in twenty-one years.
He looked at his wrist. The name was gone. The date was gone. The Void was gone.
For the first time in his life, Elias Thorne was truly, beautifully blank.
"What do we do now?" Lyra asked, walking up to the balcony, her face covered in soot but her eyes bright.
Elias looked out over the broken, beautiful city.
"Whatever we want," he said. "We have a lot of blank pages to fill."