Mena’s eyes darted back and forth helplessly as King Ink loomed over her.

“Looks like you have no choice,” he said, “Come with me. Or you all will perish in the very place you sought to reach.”

Mena was silent. A low hum off in the distance distracted her from King Ink’s vile words. A sparkling sheen caught her eyes too—it came from the glass bottle where Pigchard was trapped…it came from the Golden Plume. A voice echoed from behind King Ink. It was hight and light, but very womanly and mystical.

“When a writer with an evil hand

Takes control of this magic land

A certain Phenomena can transcend

And write the world a better end.”

The King let out a terrifying trumpet like blare and raised his pen scepter to cut her down. Mena screamed as hard as she could, but then…he stopped.

Time seemed to freeze around Mena as a woman bedecked in a shinning array appeared before her. With flowing, golden blond hair, and a matching robe—she looked positively goddess-like to Mena. A pair of butterfly wings composed of white light spread behind her and she hovered beside the petrified King Ink.

“Who are you?” Mena asked.

“Why,” the woman said, slyly in her sprite-like voice. “I am the Good Fairy who visits all writers, musicians and artists in the depths of their Imagicnation.”

“But why have you visited me?” Mena asked, “Especially when I’m about to get the stars knocked out of me.”

The woman held her robed sleeve to her mouth and giggled. “Because I sense an untapped orchard of Imagicnation in you young one. And as your doom draws near, it grows ever so much. Sometimes the darkest times fuel our imagination more than anything else.”

Mena threw her hands forward in protest. “But what good is all this Imagicnation if I can’t use it?”

“Your imagicnation potential,” the Good Fairy said with great authority. “Will allow you to become an even greater writer for this land than the previous one. Hold out your hand…”

Mena listened to the fairy and extended her hand. “Nothing’s happening,” Mena muttered.

“Imagine the Golden Plume in your hand,” the Good Fairy lectured. “Imagine its feel, its weight, its smell. Basically, forget all the magic chanting you were taught by human, and picture only the brush in your hands.”

Mena closed her eyes and allowed her mind to encapsulate the brush. She imagined the smooth feel of the handle, the smell of freshly dipped ink and the sturdy but economic weight of the brush. Something filled her hand, and she opened her eyes. Her fingers clutched the Golden Plume tightly.

“Now,” the fairy said, her emerald eyes glowing brightly as sparkles emanated from her sleeves “When you learn to rewrite the wrongs, you’ll realize that this pen makes a fine sword.”

“But wait,” Mena exclaimed, as the Good Fairy vanished. “I don’t know how to use this pen..”

Mena leapt back as the pointed scepter sliced across her sleeve, tearing fabric, and drawing her blood. “Owww,” Mena sobbed, but her whining did not deter her pursuer. He stalked towards her with a mad grin on his inky face. In the split seconds she had, a thought rushed to Mena’s head. “Rewrite the wrongs…”

Mena scribbled quickly in the air. “King Ink’s hold on my friends was broken.”

The Dulabet she scrawled upon the air glowed bright white. The shadows beneath her friends vanished.

“Thanks Rainy,” Ashlan said with a sigh.

“No problemo, Sunny!” Mena said, looking back at her friend before turning her eyes to King Ink.

There was a strained expression on his brow. Mena scrawled in the air: “Mena Willow became an excellent swordsmith…I mean, wordsmith.”

King Ink wasted no time charging at Mena. He aimed his scepter level with her head, but in another half second, she parried it.

She stood behind him with a smirk on her face. “Looks like the pen is mightier than the scepter!” She said, but King Ink did not find the levity to his liking.

He roared and began swinging his scepter as hard as he could. Like a professional fencer, Mena deftly blocked every swing, but he swung his weapon with such aggression that it pushed her farther and farther backwards. They moved across the desk, getting closer to the edge of it. Mena could not deal any blows at all. Her focus was entirely on blocking, but as they neared the end, an idea came to her head. Taking a sidestep, she rotated out of the way, allowing King Ink to push himself right over the precipice.

The King let out another trumpet blare as he fell to his death. Mena finally catching her breath giggled. “Looks like I finally wrote you off!”

Mena’s friends cheered from afar as the young witch took her bow. But soon, their cheering turned to screams of horror as another trumpet-scream sounded. King Ink rose out of the depths in his true form: the Great and Terrible Ink Blot.”

His voice warped and mutilated cried out, “I will bring you to the Ghost Writer if it’s the last thing I do!”

Extending his long tendrils, he seized the glass bottle and caught Mena like a helpless insect.

Much to her dismay, the Golden Plume tumbled out of her reach, leaving Mena alone with Pigchard. “Never in my days, snoik,” he exclaimed. “Would I dream that you would succeed my daughter as the Ghost Writer.”

But Mena did nothing but panic. “How am I going to get that Plume back?”

“Simply imagine it back and write this beast out of existence…snoik.”

Mena closed her eyes like she did before, imagining the weight, touch and smell of the brush. Sure enough, it appeared in her hand.

“Alright!” Mena exclaimed. “Time to write this beast out of the story forever! With the mighty Golden Plume,”—she wrote in the air—”Mena defeated the Terrible Ink Blot.”

A coagulated laugh filled the air as her words floated harmlessly to the bottom of the bottle. “Foolish girl,” the Blot gargled. “I am the composition of all the magic ink in the land combined. You cannot defeat me like that. I am more powerful than a mere Plume. Now…give it to me!”

One of the Blot’s tendrils reached inside to grasp the Plume. “Wait a minute,” Mena said, dodging its reach. “This pen once contained all the magic ink didn’t it?”

Without thinking, Mena punctured the tendril with the plume, and much to her surprised, it began to slurp it up like a piece of spaghetti. “What are you doing?” the Great and Terrible Blot demanded.

“Sending you back from where you came!” Mena shouted as the beast was pulled inside.

“NoOoOoOoO,” King Ink shouted as he dropped the bottle back onto the desk.

The Blot grew smaller and smaller until he was all pulled inside with a loud pop. “You have officially been pen-ished!” Mena smiled as she twirled the plume around, causing Pigchard to duck it. Getting to his feet, he applauded her with a smile.

As they stepped outside the bottle, they were immediately greeted by Ashlan, Chad and Janus. “RAIIINY!” Ashlan screamed, running towards her friend with tears in her eyes.

She nearly throttled Mena with a very intense hug. “Is this ack… a bear hug?” Mena asked as she was muffled by Ashlan’s blond mane.

“No,” Ashlan exclaimed back. “It’s a lion hug!”

“Oh my,” Mena said, laughing.

As the two embraced, Mena looked over Ashlan’s shoulder and saw Chad and Janus happily holding hands.

“All’s well that ends wha!?”

“Good work, Mena,” a dainty voice said to everyone

The sound of white velvet gloves applauded the heroes as Princess Plumerella lowered herself out of the sky. She reclined on a bed of sparkles.

“Princess!” Chad groaned loudly and broke away from Janus, causing the pixie-reaper to frown. “I’m so happy you’re safe. You wouldn’t believe this ordeal I’ve gone through. Being forced to be a zombie and only date undead broads. It’s terrible!”

“I’m only your rigor-rebound?!” Janus squeaked, her eyes trembling.

“Nothing personal, dead babe,” Chad said tipping his hat. ‘But Princess Plumerella is my one and only. Even death won’t keep us apart.”

“Or will it?” the Princess responded, an even colder look in her eyes. “I’m not Plumerella…My name is Maggie, the daughter of Pigchard. The one who you framed and had put to death!”