Morning swept across the land of Zonner like an unceasing stream, scattering its foam across every corner of the universe, illuminating the night sky after a battlefield left in silence.
In the outer cosmos, the world slowly awakened, its sounds beginning to stir, as if hearing the call of the morning star, summoning all beings to move.
Zeice stirred from his slumber, his fingers resting gently on the delicate image of Fleurine.
He gazed at her with eyes still heavy with sleep, fully admiring the divine masterpiece that lay before him.
Half of Fleurine's radiant blue gems fluttered open, her lips curling into a graceful smile as she beheld the guardian of her heart.
The man whose fingers had crafted a thousand words of love, etching them into the sculpture of her face.
Fleurine smiled… her smile curved into a graceful arc, "Go, Zeice… Show the universe!," she said, her voice glowing with the light of her two sapphire eyes.
Zeice pressed a kiss upon the bow of her contemplation and replied, "A story will be written, whether on the wings of an angel or the horns of a devil," his words burning with the fierce flame within his chest.
And as fate danced in rhythm with his steps, Zeice strode out from the universe he had woven, descending into the realm of… Zeanna.
*****
(At Zeanna's House)
The sun climbed one step closer to its warmth with gentle ease.
Its rays, growing stronger, slipped through the curtains, casting warmth onto the old wooden table that had long accompanied the silence of this house.
Zeanna sat with a deep gaze, her eyes tracing every piece of information on her phone screen, like a sentinel observing the outside world from behind a fortress.
Rodney was wrapped in silence, sipping the last drops of black coffee from his nearly empty cup.
Meanwhile, Nicko sat in the corner of the room, his face unreadable, watching the digital world race by in the palm of his hand.
In the midst of that quiet morning, something was stirring within Zeice.
Something unseen by the eye, yet vividly real to a soul ablaze.
With a measured heart, Zeice reached for the laptop on the table.
His hands… grasped the silence as if preparing himself for an invisible battle.
The screen displayed his works, words woven like poetry born of blood and sweat, creations poured out with his heart and his very being.
Yet, on the other side, there was something different, yet eerily familiar.
Sentences that felt too known, though spoken through a different voice.
Ideas that seemed stolen, siphoning the essence of his writing, wrapped in words so subtle, most of the world would never notice.
Zeice drew a quiet breath, feeling each pulse in his veins, focusing all his strength into the fingers that began to type.
A small step in the realm of imagination, as if shaking the heavens of ideas and creativity.
Every letter he typed was a key, unlocking the door to the truth, pulling back the dark veil covering shameful acts.
He chose carefully, revisiting every memory of his published works.
The evidence was there, like footprints time could never erase.
On the screen, he presented the first proof, his undeniable creation.
Every sentence was a signature of his life's journey, each word an imprint of the soul that had carved his stories.
He marked the vital parts, highlighting each profound phrase, patiently piecing together a timeline.
Days, months, and years, until the truth could no longer be denied.
Then, the soulless screen beside him flickered to life.
Like a shadow mimicking the sun, trying to erase the footprints that had already been firmly set.
Zeice examined each sentence, measuring the undeniable similarities, and slowly began to weave a narrative, one that not only revealed plagiarism but also signalled the start of a new battle.
Two worlds collided, two stories clashing against each other.
One, filled with the light of hope and the crimson drops of struggle, the other, born from cunning shadows and a veil of grey mist.
He captured screenshots of every matching section, comparing each sentence against the other, like two shadows embracing without realising the other's presence.
Zeice wrote, not just with words, but with his entire heart.
He documented dates and times, and every small detail, knowing that the truth could never be silenced by lies that hovered only a breath away from reality.
"This is a battle for change," he whispered, barely audible to anyone else.
But Rodney and Nicko, with their sharpened senses, knew this was the turning point.
Rodney, who had been gazing blankly out the window, finally spoke in a deep voice, "It's not just about the words, Zeice. It's about who came first," he said.
He lifted his coffee cup, his eyes fixed on the city as it stirred to life.
Nicko, who rarely spoke much, merely smiled, "They'll try to fight back, but they won't be able to hide it."
With a steady heart, Zeice crafted the message he had long prepared.
The evidence linking his original work to the plagiarised copy could no longer be denied.
Without haste, he pressed the button to upload it, knowing the world would soon see the truth.
One by one, notifications began to appear on the screen.
Those messages flowed into the digital realm, shared by unseen hands.
The world began to awaken, and with it, the battle of words, carefully prepared with unwavering resolve, had begun.
Zeanna gazed at her phone screen with satisfaction, "It's all begun," she said, her voice laden with meaning.
And within the room, heavy with tension and hope, Zeice only smiled, a smile filled with an invisible strength.
"They can't run anymore."
Zeanna scanned her phone, her sharp eyes tracking the flood of news beginning to emerge.
Rodney and Nicko were already poised for their respective roles, sipping the quiet morning filled with anticipation.
Zeice took a deep breath, drawing strength from within, and began to type.
His fingers moved swiftly and decisively, like a dancer executing a well-rehearsed routine.
Every letter that appeared on the screen was a truth the world would soon have to face.
"What lies hidden... is more than just a story."
"It is bloodshed, an unyielding flame, and an untainted sacred light, one they could never catch, no matter how far they chased it."
Zeice sent the message he had prepared the night before, a message laden with evidence, a map, and a path that no hollow words could erase.
Moments later, notification sounds filled the air.
One by one, the message began to spread, disseminated by unseen hands, flowing through social media, forums, and hidden discussion platforms.
Out there, the world was beginning to open its eyes…
Zeanna turned, her eyes fixed on the notifications flooding in.
With the hashtags #WhoWroteItFirst, #PlagiaristExposed, and #TruthBehindTheWords, the four of them had ignited the next battle, a war against the word mafias and literary thieves.
Rodney lifted the fresh cup of coffee in his hand, sipping it slowly as he gazed at the city awakening beyond the window.
"This isn't just a war of words, it's a battle for the right to tell your own story," he added, his voice calm but weighted.
Nicko, sitting quietly in the corner, studied his phone screen with an unreadable expression.
"They'll try to fight back, but what can they do when the truth is undeniable?" he smirked.
Zeice merely smiled, a calm smile, heavy with the weight of an unspoken burden.
A burden not only for himself but for the world, trapped in a whirlwind of lies and deception.
His eyes scanned the screen, tracking the growing reactions.
News of stolen works and unforgivable deceit spread like a raging river, unstoppable and raw.
"The truth will always find its way," Zeice murmured, his voice steady, "even if it must push through layers of deception."
"And today… the world will know who really wrote this story."
His gaze burned with a quiet but fierce determination.
Rodney stood, raising his coffee cup high, "To our original works, untouchable and unchangeable, and to justice, which always comes late, but never fails to arrive."
Nicko gave a slow nod, "This morning proves one thing, they can't erase the footprints we've already left in history."
Zeanna smiled in satisfaction, "And we'll keep writing, even when the world tries to forget who first laid ink to the page."
With a deliberate motion, Zeice closed Zeanna's laptop, a silent signal that the battle had only just begun.
They were no longer just writing stories, they were rewriting the rules set by a world steeped in hypocrisy.
And then, with a quiet conviction, Zeice spoke once more.
"Today," he said softly, "we change everything."