A chilling silence loomed.
Angelita's eyes fluttered open, a sharp breath escaping her lips as she awoke to find herself in a place she did not recognize. Her body tensed instantly.
All around her stretched an endless expanse of emptiness—an infinite white void that had no sky, no ground, no horizon. It was a world without sound, without life, without meaning.
Angelita's heart pounded against her ribs as she slowly stood up, her bare feet meeting nothing solid, yet somehow finding balance. Her sky-blue eyes darted from one direction to another, desperate for anything familiar.
A single word trembled on her lips.
"...Donovan?"
Her voice echoed strangely, swallowed by the vast nothingness around her. The fear in her chest grew, clawing at her insides like a wild animal.
She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, feeling the chill of isolation sink into her bones. Every second that passed without an answer made the void feel even more suffocating, more hostile.
Then, without warning, the empty world around her began to shift.
At first, it was subtle: the whiteness flickered like an unstable projection. Then the changes grew more violent. The fabric of the world twisted, tore, and reformed constantly, as if reality itself were breaking apart and stitching itself back together again at random.
The ground—or whatever was beneath her—bent and warped, sending ripples through the air like waves on a disturbed pond. Colors flashed in the distance—blue, red, black—none of them holding form for more than a heartbeat.
Angelita staggered backward, her breathing shallow and fast. Her wide, terrified eyes tried to follow the chaos, but there was no pattern, no sense to it. It was like she was trapped inside a collapsing dream, or worse—caught between existence and non-existence.
"Donovan..." she whispered again, her voice barely holding together.
The world continued to distort wildly around her.The sky cracked.The earth moaned.Shadows of things that weren't there flickered at the edge of her vision.Each time she blinked, reality looked different—wrong—more broken than before.
She clenched her fists tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She could feel her mind fraying under the pressure, the terror building into something close to panic.
Where am I?Why am I alone?What is happening to me?
The shifting world seemed to respond to her fear, the distortions growing more violent, more grotesque, as if feeding on her despair.
Angelita fell to her knees, her chest heaving, tears welling in her eyes. She needed Donovan. His presence, his strength, his calmness. She needed something real to hold onto before she was swallowed whole by this nightmare.
But no voice answered her.No hand reached out.Only the endless, unraveling void remained.
And somewhere deep within that chaos...Something ancient.Something monstrous.Something unseen...began to awaken.
The ground beneath Angelita began to hum with a low, unnatural vibration.The air thickened, growing heavy and oppressive, like it was pushing down on her spirit.
Trembling, she forced herself to stand once more, despite every instinct screaming at her to run—or to fall apart entirely.
Her instincts were clear: something terrible was coming.Something that could end everything.Something that even Donovan might not be able to stop.
And she was completely alone.
Angelita's legs moved on pure instinct, pounding against the shifting, unreliable ground as she ran for her life.
The howling emptiness behind her twisted and howled like a beast unleashed, growing louder and hungrier with every heartbeat. The very air seemed to clutch at her limbs, trying to slow her down, trying to claim her.
She had no plan. No direction. Only the desperate need to survive.
Suddenly—
In the middle of one violent spasm of the world's distortion—
A door appeared.
It wasn't there one moment and was solid the next: an enormous silver door, standing alone in the middle of the chaotic void. It shimmered like a mirage, outlined by soft white light, humming faintly as if it breathed.
Angelita didn't stop to think. There was no time.
Without hesitation, she sprinted toward it and threw herself inside, slamming it shut behind her.
As she stumbled forward, trying to catch her breath, her eyes lifted—and her heart nearly burst from relief.
Donovan.
He stood there, just a few meters ahead, his tall form cloaked in quiet strength. He was facing away from her, his posture rigid, his eyes locked on something unseen.
A wide, uncontrollable smile broke across Angelita's face.
A tear of relief slipped from the corner of her eye as she ran toward him.
"Donovan!" she cried, her voice cracking with emotion.
She hurled herself into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest.
He was real. Solid. Familiar.
And for a brief moment, Angelita let herself believe that everything would be okay.
But then—
She noticed he hadn't moved.
Hadn't said a word.
His eyes remained fixed ahead, expression grim.
Confused, Angelita pulled back slightly and turned her head—following his gaze.
And what she saw ripped the breath from her lungs.
The world beyond the silver door was unraveling.
Before her, existence itself was fading, draining of color, of texture, of reality.
First the sky dimmed to gray, then white.
The distant horizon crumbled into ash and blew away like dust.
Everything they knew—the fabric of dreams, matter, sound, life—was being erased, pixel by pixel, atom by atom.
Angelita's knees weakened. Her stomach twisted in horror.
"What's happening, Donovan!?" she screamed, her voice shrill with panic.
"What happens why everything disappears?!"
For a long, dreadful moment, Donovan said nothing.
The silence between them stretched, filled only by the low, haunting hum of the dissolving world.
Then at last, he spoke—his voice low, deep, and unbearably serious.
"...The narrator has stopped reading."
His words fell heavy like a death sentence.
He turned slightly toward her, his hollow golden eyes burning with something close to sadness.
"...The author has stopped writing."
Angelita's heart sank into an endless abyss.
The realization hit her harder than anything she had ever felt before.
Without the narrator…
Without the author…
There would be nothing left.
Not her.
Not Donovan.
Not even the story itself.
Everything—absolutely everything—was nearing its final breath.
And she had no idea if there was anything she, or anyone, could do to stop it.
Angelita staggered back, her voice trembling as the horror around her deepened.
"What does this mean?!" she screamed, her throat raw. "Aren't you the creator? Aren't you the one who writes everything?!"
Her desperate cry echoed through the fading world.
Donovan stood silent for a moment, the silver light flickering dimly around him.When he finally spoke, his voice was a hollow whisper, weighted with sorrow.
"Yes... I am the creator."He looked up into the endless, crumbling void."But even the creator is meaningless without the author who gives him purpose."
Angelita opened her mouth to respond—But a chilling sensation caught her mid-sentence.
She gasped and looked down at her trembling hands.
Her fingertips were vanishing, dissolving into tiny motes of light that floated away into the empty air.
"...Me..." she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her wide, terrified eyes lifted back to Donovan.
Donovan's heart twisted painfully in his chest.He gritted his teeth hard, trying to fight the helplessness boiling inside him.He knew—he knew all too well—that Angelita's existence was slipping away, piece by piece.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Still smiling through her tears, Angelita took a step forward.She gently wrapped her arms around his back, resting her fading head against him, her touch feather-light and growing weaker by the second.
"Donovan," she said softly, her voice trembling but brave, "don't worry. I'll be fine."
Her words were meant to comfort him, but they only deepened the ache in his chest.
The ground beneath them cracked apart like glass, fracturing further into the void, but Donovan didn't move.He stood frozen in her embrace, feeling her presence flicker like a dying candle.
Angelita tilted her head upward slightly, her voice growing faint.
"Can you at least..." she hesitated, tears slipping down her cheeks, "...tell me that you love me?"
Her body was already becoming translucent, edges fading faster and faster.
Donovan turned sharply, arms wrapping around her small form, pulling her into a desperate embrace.
He lowered his forehead against hers, closing his hollow golden eyes.
"I... I..."His voice cracked, the words fighting against the lump in his throat."...I love you, Angelita."
It was the first time he had said it.The first time he had let himself be honest.
A radiant, peaceful smile spread across Angelita's face as she melted into his arms, her voice little more than a breath:
"I've waited so long... to hear this..."
The last of her tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I can die in peace now."
And with those final words, her body fully dissolved into shimmering dust, scattering into the void like a handful of stars, leaving only the echo of her presence against Donovan's chest.
He stood alone, arms wrapped around the empty space where she had been.
The world around him continued to collapse.But the silence she left behind was the loudest thing he had ever heard.
Donovan stood alone in the endless white void.His hands clenched into trembling fists, his nails digging into his palms.A violent wave of emotion surged through him — grief, rage, and overwhelming loneliness — and in an instant, the fabric of the white abyss around him shattered, breaking apart like a mirror smashed by unseen hands.
Cracks of blackness spread through the whiteness, multiplying and splintering the nothingness into countless shards.
"Isn't that beautiful, Donovan?"A calm, amused voice drifted from behind him.
Donovan didn't turn.He didn't need to.He already knew who it was.
"What... do you want," Donovan muttered, his voice hollow.
Chasin stepped casually into view, hands in his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he were merely observing a work of art.
"Want?"Chasin chuckled softly."In this white abyss? There's nothing left to want, little brother. Everything's already over. The characters... the ideas... the worlds... even the creators themselves... You erased it all."
He paused, smiling faintly.
"Only you remain. I remain. And, of course, the Absolute... always remains."
Donovan exhaled deeply, the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders.His voice was steady but tired.
"You already know everything, Chasin," he said quietly."You don't have to play the bad guy anymore."
Chasin's expression froze for a brief moment, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes.
"How much... do you know?" he asked carefully.
Donovan lifted his gaze, his hollow golden eyes unwavering.
"Everything."
There was a silence between them — deep, heavy, unbreakable.
Then Donovan continued, his voice low:
"You stole the Book of Fiction... and rewrote my existence. You pushed me completely outside the story, outside the fate of the others."
He looked down at his hands — hands that no longer belonged to a character but to something beyond.
"You didn't want me to die... like the rest."
Chasin said nothing.There was no point in lying.He simply stood there, listening, a small, bittersweet smile growing on his face.
Slowly, Donovan turned to face him fully.
And then — in a rare and genuine gesture — he bowed deeply.
"Please," Donovan said, his voice shaking slightly, "help me fix all of this... big brother."
Chasin's smile widened, and for a moment, something warm and proud flickered across his usually cold face.
He stepped forward and gently placed his hand atop Donovan's bowed head.
A terrifying burst of energy — deep, primal, ancient — flooded outward, causing the entire void to tremble under its overwhelming force.
"From now on," Chasin declared, his voice echoing through every corner of existence, "you are the God of Fiction, Donovan."
The energy transfer ended, and Donovan slowly rose to his feet.
But as he lifted his head, he caught sight of something that made his breath hitch.
Chasin's body—It was starting to flicker and fade, just like Angelita's had.
"...But this means..." Donovan whispered, eyes wide in horror.
Chasin smiled warmly, giving Donovan a thumbs-up.
His final words, spoken without fear, were:
"Rewrite the story, little brother."
With that, Chasin dissolved into dust, carried away by the silent void.
Donovan stood there, frozen, fists trembling once more — but this time, he forced himself not to cry.Out of respect.Out of love.Out of the duty Chasin had entrusted to him.
After a long while, Donovan turned and began to walk.
In the middle of the broken white space, he raised his hand.A table and a chair appeared — simple, sturdy, eternal.Donovan sat down, the weight of everything behind him and the future stretched endlessly before him.
In front of him appeared a book —"God's Journey In A New Time."
Donovan reached out, placed his hand over it... and with a single thought, erased it.
The book crumbled into light, vanishing forever.
Donovan reached out again and materialized a blank book.A pure, untouched beginning.
He picked up the pen.And he began to write.
Time became meaningless.He wrote and wrote and wrote, words pouring from his soul, reshaping existence itself, giving birth to a new reality, a new hope, a new story.
At last, Donovan leaned back, closed his eyes, and whispered to the silent void:
"This is the end... and the real story begins now."
He smiled faintly.
"Thanks for everything... brother Chasin."
And with that, the white void bloomed into infinite new worlds.
A new era had begun.