I died at twenty-eight in a cheap apartment. I woke up wearing someone else’s body—just in time for him to die, too.

He was Lancelot Ashworth, the protagonist of a novel I’d just finished reading. A grim tragedy disguised as a power fantasy. He was supposed to find a dying dragon, inherit its legendary power, and save the world. Instead, the raw, untamed magic incinerated his soul, and I was pulled from my quiet death to take his place in the eye of the storm.

Now, I'm trapped in a world I know is on a collision course with ruin. I have the dragon's power simmering in my veins, but I'm also cursed with the terrible knowledge of how the story ends. I know every friend Lancelot is fated to lose, every brilliant hero who will be assassinated by a shadowy cult, and every wrong turn that leads to the apocalypse.

My greatest challenge isn't a dungeon boss or an evil king. It's the world's strongest hero, the Zenith. In the original story, the stronger Lancelot became, the more she believed the world no longer needed her. Her eventual despair was the real final boss, and her suicide was the trigger that doomed them all.

I am the hero of a story that has already failed. But the original protagonist is dead, and the book is in my hands now.

This time, there will be no tragedy. The rewrite starts today.

Glossary