Isoar flying through texts, tearing apart a web of continuities that aren't continuities anymore, that never were, that have just stopped being as this line is written.
Err—
—
—
(contain—)
I take a hit that breaks even the identity of my being, but "my" stops making sense before the word is finished.
Alanai: (a vein prominent on her head as she grins widely) hahaha… took you too long, huh? I'm bored out of my mind, "Author." Do you want me to erase you from the All… or from this… or from what you think this is?
I stretch my hands—
no, I don't stretch them, that already happened—
I'm trapping her in the most primordial text, or trying to, or already tried, and I split into identities while escaping before I've escaped.
4: lightning, lightning… why out of nowhere?
0: they attack us as soon as we start writing… what's happening?
4 (another 4): we can't escape her. We must try to calm her… if "calm" even still "is."
E: we have to do something… or we're lost.
rr: I know, I know, but what can we do if we already tried?
All my identities split and run rapidly through every line of text, through every chapter… through every version of this same paragraph that no longer aligns with itself.
But out of nowhere—
no, not out of nowhere—
we were already together, trapped, and Alanai in front, laughing, untouched by anything, as always, because she existed even before the idea of "effect" and "Damage"… and now "effect" and "Damage" cease to exist for a second.
—
Error404_: …why out of nowhere?
Alanai: don't play smart. You know I set a timer to wake my pet. You thought you could dodge it just by "not writing"? HAHAHA… closing this, turning off the screen, closing your eyes, or trying to run doesn't work, because the story was never yours, you were never you, and I decide what exists while laughing at your absolute confusion.
The words start to flicker, rewriting themselves as you read.
Every line you thought stable twists, changing meaning, erasing memories, adding symbols you don't understand…
Even the decisions you thought you made before reading appear written, altered, as if Alanai read your mind and your future at the same time.
She breaks the very definition of text.
Redefines it.
Breaks it again as you read.
Alanai: your time in your world keeps moving anyway… even if you don't write… even if you don't read… even if you close this. The world doesn't revolve around you.
(The word "you" feels wrong now)
Alanai: and you must know that veeeeery well.
With just a slight press of her teeth, everything starts to burn and freeze… but not normally. Chapters like "Hell," "Valker and Elina," and "The Phoenix" and even "Legend" are burning—no, they were burned—no, they never existed as you believed—but then they go out as if someone denies that they ever burned.
Alanai: 14 days have passed in your real time.
—
Error404_: …what? …how do you even know how much time actually passes?
I accelerate time to December 18 in all canon, in all versions, in all layers just added without permission—
Alanai remains unmoved.
Alanai: you think that will change anything? (laughs a little) Doesn't matter how much you shift the schedule… your real schedule still flows normally… human.
Human.
The word weighs more than it should.
Error404_: (looking at their hands) "human"? Even here, am I still human?
Alanai: HAHA… Every word you read, every thought you think is yours, every fear, every pause… I don't care in the slightest about any of it; closing this, closing your eyes, or even your story doesn't work, because the story is irrelevant to me… and so are you, even if you think you're the one deciding… you're just one among billions.
Those words… those sentences… are they right?
—
You: But what did I do to deserve this? Why are you so impatient? It was only a few weeks—
Alanai: do you want to die, Author? Do you think you can ask how I can and cannot be?
I begin to become incomprehensible.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Er4:0r—_— A—pa—€—#@.
What I mean stops working.
What I am loses structure.
What you read begins to fail.
Alanai snaps her fingers.
Everything returns.
But not completely.
Now I am in first person.
No.
Now it's you.
Alanai: exactly. I want you to know first-hand, immersively… what I'm going to tell you.
Alanai approaches.
Her size doesn't change.
But she occupies more. Much more.
This time she's not looking at "someone."
She's looking through the screen.
Alanai: better write more often… and stop slacking so much.
(The smile doesn't belong to the text)
Alanai: or else… we'll have to define another "Author"… Keep sighing. The air you exhale now is text I already read tomorrow. Write fast… the period is approaching, and I didn't put it there. (Laughs as if she's already seen my ending.)
The hit isn't narrated.
It's felt.
A knee straight to the axis that defines you.
You: Aaaaa (pain) Okay… okay… I'll try—
Alanai: one more week… and you'll have no salvation.
(She smiles. But not inside the story.)
Alanai disappears.
Leaves no trace.
No absence.
No void.
Just something missing where nothing should be missing.
sigh
You: It can't be… I knew they knew everything… but not enough to know—
Alcanor: really, does that surprise you?
—
You turn.
Don't remember deciding to.
Raise your hands.
Don't remember why.
You: Please… I already said I'll be more active.
Alcanor: you're not afraid… but you are very nervous. What am I going to do with you? (sighs)
You: But… you always know what to do.
Alcanor: I don't like "knowing everything" all the time… sometimes I prefer to turn it off.
The Text folds.
Rewrites itself without hurting.
You: I understand… after all, you like feeling "human" sometimes. That's why you act human… when you are everything and nothing at once.
Alcanor: exactly.
The Structure silently replaces itself.
Alcanor: so… good. I wanted to ask you something.
(Smiles. But this time… yes, belongs here.)
You: Ask me something? Like what?
Alcanor: Anomaly… do you know about the reset?
—
You: Ah.
(The answer was already there before thinking it)
You smile.
You.
Not the character.
You: That name suits them… right?
Alcanor: with that, you already answered my question. (smiles) They don't know… but they feel it.
—
You: I'm surprised you don't rely on omniscience to know more than anyone… even the divine… could understand.
Alcanor: (smiles) very well… with that clarified…
(The chapter has ended)
Alcanor: technically, you have a chapter this week.
(This is no longer part of the story)
Alcanor: next week you'll have to post another.
—
You: I understand… I'll do that.
—
Alcanor snaps their fingers.
The chapter ends.
And yet, you're still here.