Luna hunched over her latest map, brow furrowed as she traced coastlines with an ink-stained quill. Her hands trembled, exhaustion and excitement warring inside her. A single drop of midnight-black ink teetered at the quill’s tip, then fell—spreading across the parchment like a dark tide.
"Not again," she muttered, reaching for a cloth, but the stain grew, swirling and twisting in unnatural patterns.
The world seems to tilt, and Luna’s desk vibrates with a low hum. Where the ink has dried, the lines glow faintly, and a rift opens—a slice of shimmering blue, swirling with stars. Drawn by curiosity and dread, Luna reaches out, fingertips brushing the portal’s edge.
"This can't be real," she whispers, eyes wide as the portal widens, revealing glimpses of distant mountains and alien skies.
She surveys the terrain, noting how her ink lines have etched themselves onto the ground, forming glowing pathways. The portal hangs behind her, a silent promise of return. Luna’s heart races as she realizes the stains have not only mapped the world—they’ve changed it.
"If I spilled ink here, would it open another door?" she wonders aloud, hope and fear mingling in her voice.
One of the spectral beings approaches, its form shifting like mist. It gestures toward Luna’s map, and though it speaks in an unknown tongue, Luna senses an invitation. She kneels, dipping her quill into the ink once more, her hand steady with newfound purpose.
"Show me your world," she murmurs, and the creature nods, guiding her deeper into the landscape where new stains might unlock further secrets.
With each new stain, Luna feels herself growing stronger, her connection to both worlds deepening. The attic seems a distant memory as she navigates this realm, her maps evolving with each discovery. Yet, she notices that some portals threaten chaos—rifts that leak darkness and discord.
"I must be careful," Luna cautions herself, realizing the maps are both a gift and a responsibility.
Back among her ink bottles and scattered charts, Luna knows her world will never be the same. She gazes at her stained maps, wondering which portal she will open next—and what wonders or dangers might spill forth. Resolute, Luna prepares her quill, ready for the next adventure.
"Let the ink guide me," she says softly, the attic now alive with possibility.
