Megan Inky ✓ <Certified>

It started subtly. Last spring, she’d been doodling in the margins of her history notes—a little dragon, nothing special—when the dragon’s tail twitched. She blinked, certain she’d imagined it. Then the dragon stretched its paper wings and sneezed a tiny puff of graphite smoke.

Lucas paled. “You—”

Now, at seventeen, Megan had embraced the moniker. She wore ink-stained jeans like a badge of honor, and her favorite hoodie—once gray, now a constellation of faded blotches—was her uniform. But the ink wasn’t just a cosmetic issue anymore. Megan had a secret. megan inky

Megan’s blood turned to ice water. “I don’t know what you’re—” It started subtly

Megan set the paper down. She uncapped the ink. Her hand trembled, but not from fear—from focus. She began to draw. Then the dragon stretched its paper wings and