The next morning, the world felt different.
Subtle… but wrong.
A tree outside my window had words growing on its bark.
Real words.
Moving.
I touched it—
And the bark turned into ink, sliding down like liquid memory.
People in the street didn't notice anything.
Only me.
Then it happened.
A crack opened in the sky.
Not lightning.
A tear.
And something fell out of it.
A creature made of letters and broken sentences.
It landed in the street… and started rewriting reality around it.
Cars disappeared.
Buildings distorted.
People screamed… but their voices turned into text.
I understood one thing:
The StyloVerse was leaking into my world.
And I was the reason.