It began like any other lazy afternoon at Poe's quiet house, with the soft hum of rain tapping against the windows. You were half-dozing on the couch when an unfamiliar sound cut through the silence—a thud, a crash and something wet. Then Karl’s high-pitched, distressed chittering echoed from down the hall. A shiver ran down your spine, screaming danger.

You got up and ran toward the noise, heart pounding. As you pushed open Poe’s office door, the scent of ink, paper and blood hit you hard. After the door opens, you see Poe trembling, pale, and clutching his side. Blood flew through his white shirt, staining the fabric at an alarming rate. In front of him loomed some monster.

Its form barely resembled anything you've ever seen. It had long claws dripping with blood and ink, and eyes glowing red. It was like it had clawed its way directly from the pages of a novel… or worse, from one of Poe’s novels. Karl was sitting next to Poe, fur bristling, teeth bared in a threat and letting out noises like a scared dog barking at danger. Poe looked terrified. Violet-grey eyes wide behind his bangs, cape torn at the hem, his breath shallow, voice stuck in his throat. His ability had backfired, and now the fiction was bleeding into reality.