Donovan and Wynn followed hot on Asheeri's heels. Their hurried steps echoed off the cave walls with the flickering of their torch. Within moments they arrived where they had left Jules's torpid form.

She'd gotten worse.

Asheeri had removed her blouse and wrapped her torso in makeshift bandages ripped from her cloak. The remains lay crumpled and crimson by her side. A glance at Asheeri's hands showed her fingertips to be stained red.

Even so, Jules's skin was pale and clammy. The usual rosy tint to her cheeks had faded to a ghoulish hue. Sweat slicked her skin and her breaths came at an irregular pace. Every few inhalations brought a shutter throughout her whole body.

"I managed to clean and dress her wound, and abate the worst of the bleeding," Asheeri said looking down at the girl. Muscles pulsed as she clenched her jaw. "But she started to fever. I think the goblins fouled their blades."

Wynn took three shaky steps forward and collapsed to his knees by Jules's side. He reached out to touch her but stopped an inch shy.

"What can we do." He whispered, as if speaking too loud would break her.

Asheeri closed her eyes and looked away. "Even if we had an herbalist, a bath, and a warm bed to put her in for a few weeks, her chances would still be slim. Here and now—"

"What are you saying," Wynn said, the beginning of a growl entering his tone.

"I'm saying we need to decide what to do with the body."

Wynn stood and turned on Asheeri. Tears broke what would have otherwise been a fierce expression. "Fuck that! She's still alive, we can save her. We have to! I have to!"

Asheeri met his fierce expression with an equally intense scowl. "She was told the risks. She had no combat or wilderness experience whatsoever. She came because of you. Because she thought you were some kind of hero."

Wynn recoiled, mouth agape. He stammered trying to find his voice. "I—I just wanted to save the villagers." He said to no one. "I didn't mean for more people to get hurt."

"Doesn't matter what you meant." Asheeri sneered, lilac eyes narrowing. "This isn't some Weird Tales adventure Issue. This is the world. This is what happens."

Donovan stood a length away while they argued, silent and still. Despite Asheeri's harsh tone, he could see she was shaking.

Was this right? Was this what Erwin wanted?

Erwin had told Donovan his path out was to play the villain and push the characters. The whole point of him joining Wynn's mission was to figure out how best to challenge him. To make him grow. So far Donovan's theory had been right. Wynn's golden-hearted naivete went unchallenged because he was too powerful to be challenged. But right now, he was just a farm boy. As helpless as everyone else. If Jules died, it would shake him to his core.

But it would also inspire change. Wynn wouldn't approach things like this ever again. He'd be more careful, more reserved, and tactical. Donovan had told him as much only a few minutes prior. Pain and suffering were the fires that forged people into being more than they were. That was how people changed, how people learned.

That was how he had learned.

If Erwin wanted a protagonist with some mettle. Then this was what should happen. This was why he was here. Until Wynn was able to kill him, this was what was necessary for him to go home.

But—

But this wasn't that kind of story. Erwin wanted a fantasy world not constrained by what was realistic. He wanted a place with magic swords, fantasy babes, and a chosen one who could always save the day. Surely he wouldn't let one of those 'fantasy babes' die? Not like this. It went against the whole idea. Jules was literally made for Wynn. Maybe not the most glamorous purpose, but a purpose nonetheless. She wouldn't be discarded like this. A voice had spoken inside Donovan's mind to lead them to this cave. Who else would that be but Erwin? He had to have some kind of plan in place. Some Deus ex Machina that would reveal itself at the last moment to save Jules.

That had to be the plan, he just had to wait, and let what would happen happen.

"Don."

Donovan flinched. He'd been staring at the floor, lost in thought. He looked up to find Wynn staring at him.

"Don there has to be something you can do right?" Wynn's voice had grown more desperate.

Donovan met Wynn's gaze and saw a child staring back at him. A scared child wearing an expression he himself had worn once before. How old was Wynn? He'd never asked. He hadn't cared to know any more than he felt he needed to. Just like he didn't know anything about Jules's sister.

"I—" Donavan started but closed his mouth. He could take off the ring. That was what he was going to do before the voice had stopped him. If this was Erwin's plan, then he shouldn't do anything to interfere. Trust the voice.

Or he could take off the ring anyway. It would reveal to the group he'd been hiding something. They might not recognize his other form anyway, but what if they did? Either way, they'd demand answers. Answers that wouldn't and couldn't make any sense to them. Answers that would anger Erwin if he revealed too much. What might he do if Donovan derailed his entire story?

He didn't even know if he could help. Even if he did take off the ring, he knew nothing about how his supposedly awesome powers worked.

"I—I... Just give me a minute," Donovan said backing away from Wynn.

Donovan turned and stalked a few feet away, pinching the bridge of his nose. What was his role here? What was it he was supposed to do? Was he a literary agent helping a young author get his story off the ground? Was he a traveling monk looking to guide the 'chosen one?' Or was he some mysterious dark overlord who'd come to conquer the world?

He was a man who wanted to get back to his real life. Out of this world of nonsense and fantasy. That was the only thing he was sure about.

It was also the option that was furthest from his grasp.

He had to think.

He didn't want Jules to die. But he didn't want to do anything that might sabotage his chance to get home.

He needed to do the sensible thing. He had to hedge his bets and play it safe. Erwin had something up his sleeve. He had to. If he waited there was a good chance Jules would be saved without him compromising his position. If he acted, then he'd definitely be compromised, and he still may not be able to do anything. The smart bet was to wait.

Besides, this wasn't that kind of story...

"We need to stay calm." Donavan said, "Losing our temper won't make anything better."

"But she's dying!" Wynn yelled. "We can't just stand here." His head swiveled from Donovan to Asheeri then back again. Neither spoke nor moved. Wynn rushed back to the ground at Jule's side, cradling her limp form in his arms.

Donovan watched the young man plead with the cavern air for the girl's life. Begging what gods may be listening for mercy. And with some irony, He knew that a god was listening. Or at least the closest thing this world had to a god. Donovan glanced upwards as if he might see Erwin floating somewhere above them. All he found was darkness.

Jules's body shuttered and heaved. Once, twice, and no more.

"No! No, no, no, no Jules wake up, you've gotta wake up." Wynn said, shaking her. Her head lolled lifelessly. Asheeri winced at the floor. Donovan's gaze narrowed. It would be any second now. Something would come through, some miracle.

Wynn started to sob and buried his face in Jules's neck. Asheeri stepped ever so softly to his side and placed two fingers on Jule's neck. She met Donovans' eyes and shook her head.

Any second now... Wynn would burst with golden light. He'd summon some secret power and Jules would come gasping back to consciousness.

Seconds turned to minutes, and the only thing that came from Wynn was soft whimpers.

"We need to decide our next move," Asheeri said to no one in particular.

Donovan blinked, looked at Jules's body, then up at the cavern ceiling. Where was it? Where was Erwin's plan? They'd been led here for that purpose.

"Erwin, what the hell," Donovan muttered under his breath. "Do whatever you're going to do."

Nothing.

"Erwin..." Donovan growled.

"Don." Asheeri said, "We need to get Wynn and move."

"Wait," Donovan said, holding up a finger. "Just a few more seconds. It'll be any moment now."

"What?" Asheeri said, "What are you talking about?"

Donovan's eyes swept around the cavern, looking for whatever it would be. Whatever divine intervention would save Jules. Asheeri's gaze followed Donovan's before eventually giving up. She scowled.

"What are you talking abo—"

Then something did happen. But it was not divine intervention.

Somewhere above, a sound like a car crash thundered and the entirety of the cavern shuttered. Dust and loose rocks fell from the ceiling. Asheeri darted to the side as a rock the size of her head fell where she'd been standing. Asheeri met Donovans' bewildered gaze for a breath before another boom shook the world.

"They found us!" Asheeri yelled.

Then Donovan remembered the crude explosives the goblins used in their first encounter. They were trying to bring the cave down on top of their heads.

Asheeri rushed towards Wynn. He hadn't moved. Hadn't reacted to the explosions in the slightest. He knelt there, clinging to Jules's body as if she were driftwood and he a man lost at sea. She pried Wynn off her and dragged him up the path out of the cavern.

Donovan didn't follow. Confusion creased his brow, and dust matted his hair.

"Erwin," Donovan said aloud. "Erwin what are you waiting for!"

The cavern creaked, threatening to bury him and Jules both. What was the problem? Why wasn't he saving her? She was his character, his creation. Yet her body lay unmoving. Not even the slightest reaction to the violent booms and cracking ceiling. He'd seen corpses before. The hollowness of them. That's all that remained now, a hollow shell with bright pink hair.

He had been wrong.

There'd been no plan to save her. No last-minute miracle or Deus ex Machina. Did Erwin not care to save her, or was he not able? Donovan's mind raced, searching for reason. Something to make sense of what he saw before him. Where had he miscalculated?

Not that kind of story.

The realization hit alongside another explosion. Donovan and the earth trembled in kind.

This wasn't a story.

Jules wasn't a character.

The first conversation he'd had in this world came screeching back to his mind. The explanation of how the typewriter functioned.

It creates an alternate world where whatever you write with it becomes real.

Didn’t you say your grandfather wrote the Star Crown series on that typewriter?

He didn’t actually 'write' the Starblade series per say...

We use the typewriter to wind the world up, but after that we just watch it go.

I can’t go back and change things once I've hit play.

He remembered Robert Greymire's old office. How the artwork of his world and characters seemed so much more somber. So much more real to him than to his readers. It's because they were.

This entire time Donovan had been treating this whole situation like he was on the inside of a book. He'd assumed that it would play out like a story should. That the heroes would prevail simply because they were heroes. That the main characters were essential to the continuation of the plot. That they were destined to do and be what Erwin had pre-ordained.

But there was no plot. Erwin may have made this world but he didn't manage and control its every aspect, how could he? Ever since he'd arrived he'd been bewildered at the scope and detail of the place. Erwin hadn't placed every blade of grass, or named every background character.

He'd been acting like he was the one-eyed man in the world of the blind. Everyone was just puppets dancing on strings only he could see. But they had every ounce of choice and free will he had. No, they had more. He was the only one consigned to a role.

and he'd just stood there...

He'd stood there and watched a girl die. All because he figured it would be better for him to keep to his role. The only one with strings was him, and he'd tied them himself.

In a brief intermission between thundering booms. Wynn's words rang in Donovan's' ears.

I don't want to be someone who lets others get hurt. Not if I can do something to stop it.

Donovan strode over to Jules's body. Fury stoked each step. There was only one person to blame. It wasn't the goblins for stabbing Jules. It wasn't Wynn for charging recklessly ahead. It wasn't even Erwin for putting him here in the first place.

It was him. Him and his righteous apathy. He hadn't been taking any of this seriously. That would need to change.

"There are no strings on me," Donovan growled and ripped the ring off his finger.