M snapped his fingers, and the entire room vanished, leaving them in an all-black setting with only the furniture around them and a roaring flame in the middle, illuminating their figures.

“First of all,” M began, “none of you are going to remember what happens here. Think of it as…hmmm, happening outside the usual order of things.”

“Who are you? Did the Talahan clan send you?” the one known as Tunde asked. M simply smiled, relaxing in his chair as the woman next to him suddenly produced a large, tome-like book, which she handed over to him.

Moyo strained to gather his Ether—this new power he was sovereign over within his reality—but found it unresponsive. It was there, within him, boiling and brimming to be released, yet restrained.

“Ah, the Talahan clan,” M said, chuckling. “Nice creation of mine. Really fit the all-powerful clan I envisioned, don’t you think?” he asked Tunde. Moyo cut in, “Sorry, I’m a bit confused here—Talahan clan?”

“Right, I suppose I need to get things up to speed to clear my conscience,” M said, sitting up straighter. “Moyo, you were my first creation…ish.”

“Ish?” Moyo asked, raising an eyebrow. M waved it away. “Don’t bother yourself about that!” he said cheerily.

“I brought you both here, in my little version of a blooper, for a heart-to-heart,” he said, as the woman next to him rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Long story short, you both are characters in your individual realities—something he created—and, honestly, he’s been feeling a bit guilty about the number of troubles he’s put you through,” she explained. M sighed, chuckling, his voice ringing across the strange reality they were in.

Tunde and Moyo sprang toward M at once, as if coordinated, hands outstretched, rage written all over their faces. Just as they moved, they were suddenly back in their respective chairs, held there by some unexplainable force.

“I told you that wouldn’t go down well with them,” M said as the woman shrugged. “Bandage’s been ripped off—they either listen to you or you literally unmake them. It’s that simple,” she replied, and Moyo felt a chill run down his spine.

“Unmake us?” Tunde asked carefully, as M shook his head. “Rest assured, I won’t be doing that. Not only is that not good for my bank account, but I’ve put too much effort into crafting your stories,” he replied airily.

“If you’re our maker,” Moyo started, “then why now? Why let us see you?” he asked, straining against the force holding him down, all to no avail. For once, Moyo wondered if this was what his enemies felt when he held them down with his authority.

“Because we’ve reached the end of your story, Moyo, though you don’t seem to think so yourself, do you?” M asked.

“And me?” Tunde shot in, glancing at the dark-skinned, bald-headed man who wore a black robe with an unfamiliar symbol in a language Moyo couldn’t decipher. Just staring at it hurt his eyes.

“Oh, no—yours is just beginning, with quite a lot of challenges down the line for you. More…refined, carefully laid-out challenges,” M said with a chuckle.

“Why do I feel like that’s related to me?” Moyo asked as M pointedly avoided his gaze.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, why don’t we start with you, Moyo,” M said, turning his attention toward him, a wide smile on his face. “How would you describe your journey so far?”

“Horrible,” Moyo blurted, as M raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he replied.

“If you’re my creator—something I refuse to believe—why would you put me through all that? Why? Who deserves that?” Moyo demanded.

M reclined in his chair. “Simple, really. Suffering breeds adversity, adversity breeds strength—you needed to reach untold heights to battle against what you would inevitably face: chaos.”

“And that was worth the death of untold trillions? An entire reality wiped out?” Moyo pushed on, gripping his armrest so hard that it usually would have splintered into dust.

“That, and the readers frankly wanted a zero-to-hero tale, which I oddly quite enjoy,” M added with a soft cough.

“Wait,” Tunde blurted, eyes wide. “Are you saying all that’s happened to me was for the enjoyment of readers?” he asked, Moyo noting the dark gray power that flowed out of the man. M nodded enthusiastically.

“Indeed, and now look where it’s left you—a Lord on his way to the strongest clan in the empire. You should be proud, really,” M said as Moyo strained harder against the force holding him. All he needed was one punch, just one punch…

“On my ‘smooth, annoying face’?” M said, finishing Moyo’s thought. Moyo froze. “Yes, yes—all your thoughts, even those naughty ones you had about Annika and Ashira. I must say, that was—”

“Enough!” Moyo roared, panting as his heart pounded.

“Relax! I made you far too honorable to act on such thoughts—even the ones you had toward Tiamat, my goodness!” M said as the woman next to him giggled, Moyo’s face filling with embarrassment.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Listen, did you know the readers wanted an actual harem? For you? Mr. Stab-and-Cut-Through-Everything-He-Comes-Across, relying on plot armor to save you every time?” M asked.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” the woman beside him quipped.

“Plot armor?” Moyo whispered.

“Don’t get me wrong; you were insanely powerful. In fact, I had a hard time finding ways to keep your ascension regulated so you didn’t just wipe out every single person you came across.”

“Hence, House Dracon,” the woman at M’s side added.

“House Dracon was made to counter me?” Moyo asked incredulously.

“And look how quickly you left literal dragons in the dust,” M replied. “Even the Abyss and Araman, who were supposed to be the ‘big bad’ of the entire series, had to keep retreating. A moment of silence for his wasted potential,” M said, as Moyo suddenly found his lips sealed and his head forced to bow.

“He will be sorely missed,” the woman said after a minute, and M nodded somberly. “In fact, a moment of silence for every character Moyo so callously showed was nothing but a side character,” M added as Moyo rolled his eyes, his head bowing again.

“He did?” Tunde asked.

“Oh, yes. The poor Dracons were the first of many. Literal abyssal demons powerful enough to wipe out entire planets panicking over his presence, supreme beings reduced to advisors, primordials as best buddies—nothing works right around him,” M sighed.

“You wrote me that way,” Moyo protested, as M blinked.

“I suppose so,” he answered. “That’s what I get for giving you an all-knowing woman as your advisor. Shout out to Martha, the true protagonist,” M said, and the woman next to him nodded.

“That’s ridiculous. I love Martha like a mother, but I did most of the fighting,” Moyo argued.

Silence reigned in the space they occupied. “Riiiiight,” M drawled out, nodding sympathetically.

Moyo sputtered, then M turned to Tunde. “Tunde! My latest…friend,” M said, in a tone Moyo couldn’t help but notice sounded like “guinea pig.”

“Born through trials and adversity, clawing his way from the wastelands of Bloodfire to the upper echelons of the continent—I’m so proud of you,” M said, wiping an imaginary tear from his face.

“Especially when he faced down the Artificer, declaring his name. Beautiful,” the woman at M’s side said, her voice quivering.

“Oh! Oh! And when he fought that creature thingy from the wastelands,” Moyo said excitedly.

“Creature thingy?” Moyo asked.

“I tend to forget the names of the creatures I created. Happened a lot when I was…invested in your series, to be honest,” M replied dismissively.

“You mean the Alpha?” Tunde asked.

“Yes, that!” M replied, snapping his fingers.

M sighed. “Good times, good times. It almost makes me pity you for what comes next at the capital,” he said.

“What comes next? What comes next?” Tunde asked, eyes wide. M wagged a finger. “It wouldn’t be nice if I revealed what I had in store, now would it? Especially to the readers,” he replied.

“What readers?” Moyo asked exasperatedly.

At this point, M (which may or may not be me) faces the screen, or book page. Lol, this thing is getting confusing.

“Never you mind, my friend,” M said, clapping his hands. “Great! This is the point where I leave you two to discuss. It would be nice for Tunde to get a few pointers from Moyo,” M said, glancing at Tunde. “To be honest, he’s been through the whole impossible odds thing already, granted he had Ajax most of the time, and Thorne’s not with you any longer, Tunde,” M added.

“Thorne…is he alright?” Tunde asked carefully.

“Enough! Private time!” M announced, clapping his hands as both Moyo and Tunde vanished with a pop, chairs and all.

M released a sigh as he relaxed. “That went well,” he said, and the woman nodded.

“Though it would be nice to hear what they’re talking about,” she suggested, as M shook his head.

“No, privacy is essential for both characters—even if they won’t remember any of it, to be honest.”

Silence reigned as Moyo awkwardly sat up, a desktop appearing in front of him as well as a keyboard.

“You’re spying, aren’t you?” the woman asked as M waved his hand. “Grab a seat and bring the popcorn,” he replied.

****************************

Moyo found himself in another space, seated opposite the one known as Tunde, both still held in their respective chairs.

“This is all confusing,” Tunde said.

“I could say the same here,” Moyo replied. “First I find out that my—our—entire lives were simply stories for the amusement of others.”

“You don’t sound as angry as I thought you would,” Tunde observed.

“Oh, I am. But what is my anger in the face of such absolute power, even when an Alpha like I am is concerned?” Moyo replied.

“You’re an Alpha? You don’t look like that abomination I faced,” Tunde said, and Moyo chuckled.

“What that means in my world and yours are no doubt two different things,” Moyo said. “It seems our benefactors want us to talk, for me to impart whatever supposed knowledge I have over to you.”

“What is your reality like?” Tunde asked.

“Rough, hard, where power meant everything,” Moyo replied.

“Meant?” Tunde asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Entire reality was wiped out. Long story,” Moyo said, as Tunde nodded softly, blinking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

They spoke for a long time, sharing stories of pain, of laughter, of snatches of joy and moments of grief. It went on for a while, until, at the end, Tunde’s eyes gleamed.

“I don’t care if what I’m saying right now has already been ordained by that all-powerful being,” he began, “but believe me when I say you deserve all the good things that came your way—you fought for it,” he said firmly.

Moyo smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly.

With a soft pop, M and the woman appeared, the woman wiping her eyes with a handkerchief as M sniffled, fanning his eyes with his hands.

“That was…phew…touching!” he said, as Moyo rolled his eyes and Tunde sighed.

“Beautiful! Amazing!” the woman added.

“Please, enough of these theatrics,” Tunde said. “I have a tier-6 mountain ape to defeat.”

M snorted. “I may have given Moyo the ability to hit waaaay above his power level, but frankly, that ape would snap you in two like a twig. Stick to handling the Highlords, will you?” M said, as Tunde looked momentarily lost for words.

“So, what happens now?” Moyo asked.

“This is the end of your story, Moyo. You get the rest you deserve—the beauty of your home and those crazy triplets coming your way,” M said, laughing as silence filled the room.

“Triplets?” Moyo asked, his voice hoarse.

“Oops,” M said, as the woman slapped her forehead.

“Ashira is pregnant?” Moyo asked again.

“I didn’t say that!” M protested.

“I’m going to be a father?” Moyo continued, awestruck.

“A good one, if I do say so myself—aaaand that’s all for now! Bye!” M said, snapping his fingers as Moyo vanished. He then turned to Tunde.

“Be strong. Face the odds. Fight like your life and that of the Cult of the Seekers is in your literal hands. I—and the readers—are rooting for you. Never, ever forget that,” M said, snapping his fingers again, and Tunde vanished as well.

The woman sighed. “This is the end, isn’t it?” she asked as M watched her slowly dissolve into motes of light.

M nodded. “Yes, for now,” he replied.