When you write something powerful enough, the world stares back.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

✦

The bridge from the Oversight Node led into an expanse of mirrors—thousands of floating panes reflecting realities I didn't remember living.Each surface flickered with possibilities: me as a god, a ghost, a concept written out of order.

The reflections didn't mimic my movements.They anticipated them.

[ System Notice: Location — The Mirror Archive ][ Function: Reflection of Narrative Possibilities ]

Arjun's ember hovered beside me, dim light against infinite glass.This place feels wrong.

"It's a record," I said. "The universe's way of asking what I'd do differently."

You shouldn't answer that.

"Too late," I muttered, watching one of my reflections smirk first.

✦

[ System Notice: Fragment of Authorship Detected. ][ Warning: Authorial Output Unstable. ]

The mark on my wrist pulsed again—gold bleeding into red.My veins itched. Every breath tasted like ink.

Arjun flared nervously. That fragment's reacting with you.

"Guess it wants to test the merchandise."

✦

Each mirror began vibrating faintly, rippling like disturbed water.Then they started writing back.

Sentences carved themselves across the glass, looping handwriting I recognized as my own.

"You wanted control.""Now write your own pain.""Creation demands subtraction."

The last one burned brighter.

✦

[ System Notice: Manifestation Detected — Authorial Feedback Loop ][ Effect: Energy Exchange Between Creation and Creator. ]

Arjun's tone shifted to alarm. It's taking from you.

"Everything does," I said quietly. "This one's just honest about it."

You're bleeding words, Ishaan.

I looked down. He was right.Where blood should have been, glowing script ran from the cut on my arm—phrases dissolving midair before hitting the floor.

✦

Every story I'd ever rewritten shimmered around me—ghosts of moments I'd forced into being.The boy in the ruins. The girl who defied her death flag. The Authorless God.They all flickered behind the mirrors, watching.

Not accusing.Just… aware.

✦

[ System Notice: Narrative Debt Accruing. ][ Conversion Rate: 1 Fragment = 3% Soul Structure Degradation per Rewrite. ]

I exhaled slowly. "There it is."

You can't keep creating like this.

"Can't stop either."

Why not?

I smiled faintly. "Because the world doesn't stop needing edits."

✦

The mirrors pulsed together, light merging into a single blinding surface that reflected not me, but a version of myself writing.Sitting calmly at a desk made of stars, a quill in hand, composing the scene I was living now.

"You finally understand," my reflection said.

"Understand what?"

"That every author eventually becomes what they write."

✦

[ System Notice: Entity Manifestation — "Authorial Echo." ][ Classification: Cognitive Construct of Self-Authorship. ]

Arjun hissed. That's you, but older. Stronger.

The Echo smiled gently, quill tapping against the desk.

"Do you know the price of infinite revision, Ishaan?"

I stayed silent.

"It's forgetting which version of you survived."

The words struck harder than any divine blow.

✦

The Inkblade trembled in my hand, reacting to the pressure in the air.Every reflection around us shattered at once, raining fragments of sentences.Through the noise, I could hear whispers of all the other "me"s, half-written, half-erased.

"We wrote to live.""We lived to rewrite.""We died for the draft."

✦

[ System Notice: Authorial Feedback Critical. ][ Mandatory Sync Required — Fragment of Authorship Integrating. ]

Arjun panicked. You have to resist it!

"No," I said. "I have to finish the sentence."

The Echo smiled sadly.

"Then write it, Script Breaker."

✦

I raised my hand. The words forming around me weren't ink this time—they were memories, pulled straight from my existence.Each one hurt to let go.

My first rewrite.My first death.My first choice that mattered.

Every letter carried weight.

✦

I whispered, "Creation takes life."

And the system answered.

[ System Notice: Directive Logged — "The Cost of Creation." ][ Law Revision: Energy for Reality = Author's Essence. ][ User Acknowledgement: Accepted. ]

✦

Arjun's ember dimmed, voice trembling. You just bound your life to your writing.

"Always was," I said. "Now it's official."

How long can you keep that up?

I glanced at the bleeding script on my arm. The glow was fading now, replaced by faint golden scars shaped like words that didn't quite fit.

"Long enough to finish the story."

✦

The Echo stood slowly, quill dissolving into light.

"Then may you write a worthy ending."

He faded with the mirrors, leaving only silence and the faint hum of reality adjusting around me.

✦

[ System Notice: Realm Stabilized. ][ Fragment Integration — Complete (2/7). ][ Warning: Vital Depletion Detected. User Energy — 78%. ]

Arjun whispered, You gave part of yourself away again.

"Not gave," I said. "Invested."

That's the same thing when the return rate is death.

"Then I'll just write better interest."

✦

The bridge reformed ahead, golden as ever, humming faintly with exhaustion.For the first time since I'd started this, it looked tired.

I stepped onto it anyway.

Because stories don't finish themselves.

The bridge didn't hum this time.It shuddered.

Every step echoed back like a question I hadn't answered yet.

The sky above wasn't dark—it was unrendered, blank lines where stars should be.Occasionally, one blinked into existence just long enough to apologize before erasing itself again.

✦

[ System Notice: Structural Fatigue Detected — User Essence Imbalance. ][ Recommendation: Reduce Authorial Output for Stabilization. ]

Arjun's ember flickered beside me. You're burning out, Ishaan.

"I've been burning since chapter one."

Not funny.

"Didn't mean it to be."

✦

Halfway across the bridge, something appeared ahead.Not a person—just… debt made visible.

A tall figure composed entirely of floating numbers and spinning glyphs, each representing cost, consequence, and consequence unpaid.

[ Entity Identified: The Debt Collector of Creation. ][ Role: Balancer of Authorial Exchanges. ]

It bowed slightly, as though greeting an old client.

"You've accrued quite a tab."

✦

"I was under the impression the first rewrite was free."

"Only the first. And you've rewritten hundreds."

"Occupational hazard."

"Existential expense."

The figure's voice wasn't threatening—it was polite. Professional.The kind of tone someone uses when they've already filed your termination notice but still offer you water.

"You wield authorship. You create freely. But every new existence drains yours. Balance demands repayment."

Arjun whispered, What kind of repayment?

The Collector smiled faintly.

"The same all creators pay—memory, emotion, identity. What's written replaces what was lived."

✦

I stared at my hands. The faint golden scars glowed under the bridge's light.Some of the words had already faded.I couldn't remember which moments they once described.

"Seems fair," I said.

"Does it?"

"I get to write. The world keeps breathing. That's an even trade."

"It isn't sustainable."

"Neither am I."

✦

[ System Notice: Vital Integrity — 76%. ][ Projected Decline: 0.6% per rewrite. ]

Arjun's voice sharpened. He's right, Ishaan. At this rate, you'll disappear long before the story ends.

"Then I'll just have to end it faster."

"Or smarter," said the Collector.

✦

It stepped closer, the numbers orbiting faster around its form.

"You misunderstand the principle. Debt is not punishment—it's proof of worth. It's how creation measures sincerity."

"I'm not interested in sincerity. Just survival."

"Survival without sincerity is a blank page."

The Collector reached out, touching my wrist lightly.The mark of authorship flickered, its gold dimming to deep bronze.

"Your next creation will cost triple. The universe adapts to your inflation."

Arjun hissed, That's not how economics works!

"Apparently it is when reality's the currency."

✦

[ System Notice: Cost Multiplier — Activated. ][ Current Rewrite Cost: 9% Essence Drain per Use. ]

The air trembled. Even the bridge seemed to wince.

The Collector tilted its head.

"Tell me, Ishaan Reed… when all of you is spent, what story will remain?"

I smiled faintly. "Hopefully, one worth re-reading."

"You're certain?"

"No," I said, turning away. "That's why I'm still writing."

✦

The Collector watched as I walked past.Its final words followed, soft and echoing—

"Then may your debt be heavy enough to matter."

And with that, it vanished.

✦

The bridge resumed its hum, though now the tone was heavier—like even the structure could feel the cost written into my bones.

Arjun floated quietly beside me. You don't have to do this alone, you know.

"I do," I said. "That's the point of authorship."

You're not a god, Ishaan.

"Neither were they," I said, glancing up at the blank sky. "They just started writing sooner."

✦

[ System Notice: Narrative Synchronization Complete. ][ Fragment Integration — Stable. ][ Vital Degradation Locked at 73%. ][ Thread Unlocked: "The Weight of Words." ]

The bridge extended again, revealing a new horizon—the faint outline of a vast library suspended in the void, each shelf glowing like a constellation.

The Library of Forgotten Drafts.

✦

Arjun asked softly, Still moving forward?

"Always."

Even if it kills you?

I smiled. "Especially if it kills me. Makes the ending believable."

And I kept walking, leaving trails of fading gold behind me.

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