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"It is," Rook said softly, "when you're the Muse of Cuts. I can stitch a new panel into the existing narrative. But I need all seven of you to contribute. A painting from Vincent. A song from Wolfgang. A thread from Agatha. A blueprint from Leo. A poem from Sappho. A dance from Isamu. And a feeling from you, Clara. The truest one you have."

"Still no word from the Council?" Vincent van Gogh's reincarnation sat cross-legged on the conservatory floor, bandaged hands smeared with cobalt blue. His Palette ability allowed him to pull objects from paintings, but today he'd only produced a single wilted sunflower. "They said the eighth would come before the Fracture."

"What was her name?"

Clara smiled. "I'd like that."

It was a panel waiting for the next page. muses8 comics

"Where are we?" Mira asked.

Leo's bleeding eye widened. "The Fracture is a person ?" "It is," Rook said softly, "when you're the Muse of Cuts

"It's done," Rook whispered. "She's not waking up anymore. She's dreaming. And in her dream, she's a gardener." The Council of Patrons arrived the next morning. Seven men and women in gray suits, each one wearing a brooch shaped like a Greek mask. They did not knock.