Legend of the Dark Wood: The Phantom Oak of Meridian
The heavy oak doors of the council chamber burst open, the sound echoing like a gunshot against the high vaulted ceiling.
Standing in the threshold were three girls. The eldest, Michelle Cheung, dusted off her coat with an airy, bright smile, holding a folded paper bow casually over her shoulder. Behind her loomed Maggie, tall and quiet, her hands buried in her pockets as sheets of parchment fluttered around her boots like protective wings. At the front stood Anita, the youngest, a pair of razor-sharp paper daggers already gleaming between her fingers.
"We're late because someone spent all our emergency funds on first-edition hardbacks at the border," Anita snapped, glaring up at Michelle.
"They were rare volumes on portal magic, Anita! Perfectly relevant!" Michelle chirped, waving a hand dismissively before turning her sharp, bright eyes onto the room. "Besides, we made it. So this is the famous Citadel?"
Will Vandom lowered her guard slightly, her glowing pink amulet dimming, though her suspicion remained high. "Who are you? How did you get past the Kandrakar boundary?"
"Paper travels anywhere there's a draft," Michelle said, her cheerful demeanor dropping just a fraction as her eyes swept over the bloodless crime note on the glass table, the disgraced Tracker in his tarnished armor, and Narissa hovering in the shadows. "We were hired as extra muscle by the Duke's estate. But looking at this mess..."
"It's a trap, Mi-nee," Maggie murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper as a massive, lion-shaped silhouette formed from stiff cardstock behind her, growling silently into the dim room. "The trees outside... the paper in that note... it's breathing."
"She's right," Anita grunted, stepping forward and placing herself firmly between Queen Elyon and the shadowed corners of the room. "Every leaf in that Dark Wood is waiting to shred whoever walks in. If Phobos, this Duku Sentia, and the witch are all pointlessly scheming, then nobody here is telling the truth."
Narissa cackled, hovering higher into the rafters as green lightning crackled off her fingertips. "More fools for the meat grinder! Paper burns so easily in the dark, little girls!"
"Try us, hag," Anita growled, flipping her paper daggers into a reverse grip.
Michelle calmly drew a fresh, crisp sheet of parchment from her inner pocket, the edges instantly stiffening into a deadly, taut bowstring. "Will, Elyon—you lead the way to the heart of the oak. The Paper Sisters will cover your back
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