Sometime in the past...

Benjamin was busily jotting down the final scene of his most ambitious book yet. It had taken multiple attempts to get the characters just right for what he needed them to be, but things were transpiring just as he had hoped.

Just before Emperor Maldwin could strike down the plucky young scout, a bright green laser passed through his chest and into the throne behind. As he fell to the side, Adam looked to where it had been fired. His heart fluttered when he saw her face.

"Evelyn!" he cried as the jade beauty limped over to him, plasma musket used like a walking stick.

"Told you I'd catch up, didn't I?" She flashed a weak smile as she offered a hand.

Adam took it, getting hoisted back onto his feet with a pained effort from both parties. His body hurt all over and it was likely she did as well. That didn't matter right now. They had finally done it. They had stopped Maldwin the Mad's tyranny.

A bloody, hacking cough from next to them brought their attention back to said Emperor. He was not quite dead yet, grabbing onto Adam's ankle with a deathly grip.

"This isn't over," the dying man said in gurgled breaths, "my heirs will avenge me!"

Adam kicked him away frantically. When he finally gave, he rolled over, the spark of life gone from his eyes. No amount of flashy armor or regalia could hide his wickedness, even in death.

"And we'll be ready for them," Adam promised. He held a fist over his heart, internalizing the vow there and then.

The capital ship shuddered and began tilting to the left. Evelyn nearly crashed into Adam's side, but he held the both of them up. There wasn't much time now before the gravity generator gave out. Any chance of escape would be lost if they didn't-

Benjamin stopped writing as the book in his hands alerted him. Someone had entered his study. As frustrating as it was to be stopped when he was so close to finishing, they must need him for something. Freezing the world around him till he could return, he closed the book and recited "Suspend."

As he was drawn out of his latest work and back to the infinite library, he was greeted by the waiting smile of Father. Any annoyance he had melted away upon seeing him and his warm expression. He was wearing his sweater vest today instead of one of those novelty turtlenecks. Those big, round spectacles of his were around his neck and his grey hair seemed to have been brushed more carefully. That could mean only one thing.

"Did someone finish their work recently?" Ben wondered aloud.

Father frowned. "You could say hello first you know."

Rubbing the back of his head, Ben chuckled nervously. "Ha, sorry about that Dad."

"Oh, it's no trouble, my boy." The head librarian's smile returned. "I remember when I was still in the game of Authoring myself. Was as sharp as a spoon when they'd pry me out of my office. But yes, someone has finished recently."

While he enjoyed having the old man drop in on him, it was unusual for him to do so before any sendings. "Who's the person of the hour then?" A couple of names came up in his mind. Gerald had been getting pretty far the last time they had spoken. Maybe Felicia brought her time-traveling epic to a close.

"Stromwell."

Any excitement he had died out the moment that name was uttered. A similar reaction happened whenever he tried to read his brother's work. If Father came here before sending, that could only mean...

"You want me to come to the ceremony, don't you?" His shoulders slumped as his question was given a nod.

Receiving a pat on the back as he sulked, his dad laughed. "Come on Ben, it'll mean a lot to him if you're there."

Somehow, he doubted that. "Okay," he relented, following Father out of the study. They passed by dozens of other studies before reaching the elevator. Entering, they pressed the button that displayed an L. One second later, they stepped out and into the lounge.

It was just as lively as usual, hosting a wide host of Authors in the midst of relaxing and socializing. Conversations about their respective works drifted by Ben's ears as he made his way towards the room of sending. Occasionally, these would halt mid-sentence to give Father a respectful gesture or greeting before resuming. Father made a point of reciprocating which made the walk a little longer.

Eventually, they made it to their destination. The large circular door disappeared into its side as they drew near, revealing the small crowd already inside. There were a few faces that Ben could recognize, but most of them he wasn't too familiar with. All except one.

"I'm glad you could come, dear brother," Stromwell said as Ben entered the room, drawing attention to him.

Producing a half-hearted grin, he responded, "Glad I could be here."

A hand went around Ben's shoulders and pulled him back into his father's embrace. The same happened to Stromwell not moments after.

"See? I knew you boys could get along just fine." Almost reluctantly, they were both released from the hug. Pointing at the seats closest to the sending circle, they were both told that the ceremony would begin shortly.

If it were any other situation, Ben would have preferred sitting further away from his brother. The further, the better. This wasn't for him though. He just had to endure one day of this and then they could go back to ignoring each other.

Stromwell didn't seem to think the same, turning to talk. "I think I really outdid myself this time. I've been meaning to integrate some more complex symbology for a while now and finally got the chance here. If you ever have any problems with doing the same, I'd be glad to share some-"

His brother's endless stream of self-praise wouldn't stop unless he engaged. Although he dreaded getting into a conversation like this, it was better than having his ears get stuffed with any more bragging. "What's it about?" he asked, sure this would get him on a better tangent.

"Here, see for yourself," his brother said as he pulled out a copy of the book from his suit jacket, pushing it towards Ben.

Sighing to himself, Ben picked it up while its owner started chattering where he left off. It was a hardcover that read 'Stellar Haze' and had an image of a nebula in the shape of an eye. Deciding to save some time, Ben sped through the first couple of pages and then went all the way to the back of the book. The book was yanked out of his hands shortly after by a now silent Stromwell. It didn't matter though, he saw enough.

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"You did it again," Ben said with a hand to his face. As Stromwell roughly shoved the copy back where it had come, he added, "Do you just hate your characters or something?"

A gloved finger was raised alongside a shushing noise. After looking around the room at the other attendees, Stromwell angrily whispered, "Is there not a single shred of sense in you, or are you trying to ruin this for me?"

"Oh please, I didn't spoil anything. Besides, everyone's preoccupied." Spoilers were highly taboo for obvious reasons and were one of the few things that warranted real punishment. It was drilled into his and every other Author's head before they were allowed to take up their duties. Vague statements were perfectly fine. It wasn't like anyone familiar with his brother's work would be all that surprised either. A protagonist's survival with Stromwell in charge was like trying to mix oil and water.

"Not that you impatient clod," Stromwell complained, his voice rising slightly to near regular volume. "Why would you jump to the end and then bring attention to it? Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to do that around my peers? And in front of me no less!"

Was that really so damning? He was the one who asked him to give it a look instead of giving a synopsis. This wasn't his fault. "Maybe I wouldn't need to if you changed up your endings once in a while. Ever think about that?"

Rolling his eyes, Stromwell took up a more formal posture. "Yes, and I could say the same to you. When was the last time you axed off someone for real? Everything you put out screams of immaturity, of a refusal to address deeper themes."

Leaning back into his seat, Ben felt his jaw drop from shock. His brother had the nerve to call him disrespectful and then say that to his face. Who did he think he was? "Listen here-"

Before he could lay into the snooty jerk, the lights dimmed and the center stage began to glow. The sending machine, shaped almost like a giant microscope, descended from the ceiling. Huffing, he tried his best to let go of his anger, wishing this event would just be over already.

Father entered from stage left, moving to a podium next to the machine. Leaning forward, he spoke into the microphone. "Thank you all for coming here today. We have a treat for fans of, er," he slowed as he checked his notes, "sci-fi wars on an intergalactic scale. It's called 'Stellar Haze' and owes its creation to my son, Stromwell. If you would, please come up and tell us about what you've made for the library today."

A light shone on him as he stood up from his seat to a round of applause. He approached the podium and took the speaking spot in smooth motion. There was no doubt in Benjamin's mind; his brother definitely practiced doing this multiple times over.

"Thanks for the introduction, head librarian," Stromwell said while taking out his spare copy of the book. "I set out to make a grand adventure that would teach valuable lessons for those who will one day read it. It is my firm belief that many are in need of the harsh realities it delves into." He then stared at Benjamin and made a fake smile. "That there are no good guys and no bad guys, just shades of grey. That death comes for the righteous and the vile alike, and it is unrealistic to expect otherwise."

"Ahem, right," Father accentuated with a cough as he took the microphone from the podium. "If any of you wish to read or experience this story yourselves, it will be available immediately afterward in our archives. But that's enough dillydallying." He gestured to the sending machine, and it was further illuminated by a stage light. "As always, the honor goes to the Author."

The petty look Stromwell made at Ben gave way to a genuine one as he approached. Stellar Haze, the source copy that is, was already in the receptacle. He pulled one of the large levers at the side of it, starting up the process with a whir. Beneath the machine, a lens spits out a multicolored beam that spreads over the floor, creating a portal. Stromwell pretended to tap away at the controls, but anyone who'd done a sending before would know better. Finding the universe most in need of the story and the candidate who would bring it to life was done long beforehand. This was just extra theater.

With one press of the green button next to the keyboard, the lens that had created the portal swapped out for the next. A colorless line snaked out from the new lens and through the portal. Though it wasn't possible to see what happens from the audience's view, Ben knew the line would root itself in the minds of non-transcended races. Everything deemed essential in the book would be sent into their subconscious. From there, the recipient would feel a mad desire to create the book themselves and bring the rest of their culture closer to enlightenment. Personally, Ben felt sorry for the poor saps who got stuck with one of his brother's stories rattling in their heads.

"And there we have it," Father said with a polite clap. The rest of the audience, even a reluctant Benjamin, began to clap as well. "As always, we here at the Infinite Library thank you for your contributions today and look forward to seeing you again."

Stromwell performed a dignified bow, sneaking a smug smirk at Benjamin as he did. The younger brother gripped the armrests extra hard as everyone else stood up. Some exited the sending room while others waited around to chat with Stromwell. Of those two groups, Ben was firmly in the former.

Right as he was about to pass through the doorway, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed a bit upon realizing it wasn't gloved and knew who it belonged to. "What's wrong son?"

"It's nothing serious Dad," Ben said without turning around, "just 'creative differences' between me and him again."

"That got dragged back up, eh? Look," he continued while patting his shoulder lovingly, "I appreciate you making the effort. While I can't promise anything, I think you'll both see eye to eye someday. Till then, please don't let such a small thing get between you two, alright?"

Sighing, Ben obliged his dad with an, "Alright." This got him out of worried Father territory and allowed him to finally leave. He didn't feel like sticking around any longer and went straight back to his study.

Sitting back down on his chair, he looked at the book he'd spent so long working on. He frowned. If Stromwell could guess that nobody in this story was going to die except the antagonists without even reading it, that meant that others could as well. Even if Ben refused to make a bad end for these characters, there wasn't going to be any narrative tension without risk. To go back in and change everything would require a total rewrite from the beginning. He didn't have it in him to do that so close to the end.

He resigned himself to finishing it with this flaw but wanted to make sure he had a strong start for his next story. Putting the nearly complete book away for now, he took out some loose pages and started coming up with ideas. His pencil scribbled like mad as he thought of what he would need.

There would need to be some moral ambiguity in this MC. People were less likely to believe an objectively good person and their allies could be in trouble. Not too dark though or people might want to see them fail instead. Perhaps it could be a hired killer who never wanted the job or a master criminal who only targets other criminals. "No, no," he muttered to himself as he erased those as options. They were still too far on the good end of the spectrum. It would be better if it was a story of redemption, where failure wasn't just in the character's death.

He racked his brain for any archetype that could fit. When he thought of knights, he explored them further. They came in all varieties and could be just the fence sitter he needed. This hypothetical knight could start as very arrogant, abusing his power over any he could. Cowardice ends up getting people he cares about killed, leaving him humbled and disgraced. The story could follow him as he sheds his shame and atones by taking up his blade against a rampaging dr-

A lightbulb in his brain lit up before he finished this rough synopsis. Why bother with any of that when the answer was right in front of him? A dragon was the ultimate villain in so many stories, so what if he made something from its perspective? What if he humanized this monster?

Everything flowed out seamlessly. With every bit he added, two more came to mind. If he had a 'refusal to address deeper themes', Stromwell would eat his words with this.

By the time he started slowing down, he had set up a solid foundation for himself. Having so much already made him want to start on it right now, but he still needed to finish his previous project first. That said, before this burst of creativity faded, he wanted to have a name for his new main character. Draco? No, too generic. Baldwin? No, doesn't sound 'dragony' enough. Harax? Hmm, not exactly what he had in mind, but might be worth keeping for later.

Instead of phonetics, he decided to try the less elegant method of mashing together words until he got something workable. This wasn't working until he looked over the personality portion of the description. 'Kind, sorcerous, a shield to his allies.' He took parts from this and arranged them from left to right. Setting down the pencil, Benjamin nodded in approval.

"It's settled then. I'll be seeing you soon, Kinsoriel."