Leo is nothing. Bullied. Locked in. Left to rot. Then the pink mist comes. A leopard-eared girl with a barbed tongue calls him king. She mends his bones with a kiss. Her vines devour the school. Her womb births a son of claws and ambition. Leo takes his throne. The bullies kneel. The world bends to pink. But the sky keeps flickering. Three cold suns burn behind the clouds. The sweet air tastes like bleach. His son's eyes go hollow. His queen's tail feels like rope. And somewhere — behind the vines, behind the crown, behind the endless purr of his perfect kingdom — a lock is still clicking.
