Night falls without stars.
The sky is empty, as if God himself forgot to write the light of that night.
Harith walks slowly on the dirt road that splits the forest, Lyria by his side. He doesn't dare to sleep. This world is a world that he himself doesn't know how was created, it feels different since this morning.
The grass that was once green now looks like a thin sheet of paper.
The water of the river in the distance reflects not the sky, but the writing of cryptic verses in a language he doesn't know.
"Lyria," he said slowly, "have you noticed... this world seems to have changed?"
"Changed?"
"Look around."
He bent down, picked up a leaf. When he touched the leaf, it shattered into small letters, flew into the air, and disappeared.
Lyria was shocked, covering her mouth.
"What... happened to this world?"
"I don't know," Harith whispered. "But I don't think this is a change. This is a correction."
---
They arrived at a vast plain where the ground was bare, but in the middle stood a large stone shaped like a half-open book.
Its surface was covered with carvings of letters that were constantly moving.
Harith approached, and the letters suddenly stopped...became a single sentence.
ERROR DETECTED.
His heart stopped for a moment.
"What does this mean…?"
The letters moved again, this time forming a new line
CHARACTER HARITH: ANOMALY DETECTED. SCRIPT REWRITING... IN PROGRESS.
Lyria held his hand tightly.
"Harith… I'm scared."
"Don't let go of me."
The stone began to glow brightly.
The ground around them trembled, and it was as if reality was being reshuffled.
The colors faded, then reappeared but different.
The old temple that had been destroyed yesterday now stood perfectly upright.
The burnt village in Arc 1 was now back in existence, complete with smiling people, as if the tragedy had never happened.
But when Harith tried to approach one of the villagers...
his eyes met something that made his blood run cold.
"Good morning, Mr. Kael," the villager said, bowing.
Kael.
The name of the original hero of the novel.
"I'm not Kael," Harith said quickly.
"Sorry sir," the man replied, "everyone knows the one who saved Lyria from the temple collapse yesterday."
Lyria turned around, her face confused.
"Harith... what do they mean? Who is Kael?"
"He... he's a character from the original story…"
But before she could finish the sentence,
Lyria held her head, her face pale.
"I... I feel like I've heard that name before. But... who is Harith?"
The world stopped. Once again.
As if time was holding its breath.
The letters from the stone now floated into the sky, forming a new sentence
SCRIPT REPAIRED.
ERROR: CHARACTER HARITH REMOVED.
---
Harith screamed Lyria's name, but his voice was inaudible.
The world turned white for a moment, then black.
He fell...falling far into the boundless void.
Arven's voice came again.
"Do you understand now, writer?"
"What is this, Arven?! Why is this world trying to erase me?!"
"Because every world rejects what should not exist in it.
You rewrite destiny, Harith. The world only does what is necessary to correct the course of the story."
"The course of the story?!" he shouted into the darkness. "I just wanted to save her!"
"And because of that, you have become the first mistake of this world."
The world began to spin again.
He fell in the middle of the stone road, alone.
No Lyria, no village, no recognizable sky.
Just a book in front of him, open to a blank page and at the bottom, written a sentence that made his breath catch
Chapter 7: The Error in the Script — Written by Harith Hadami.
He touched the writing. The ink was still wet.
And at the end, a small additional line slowly appeared
This page will rewrite itself every time you try to change it.
He chuckled, tired, half-crazy.
"So this is what it feels like to be a god in a world that rejects you…"
He looked up at the sky...blank.
"Okay, world. Do you want to correct my script?
Then I will write a mistake that you can never erase."
He tore the page, threw it into the air and for the first time, the world did not react.
Maybe because this time, the mistake was not written with ink,
but with intention.
---
A few steps ahead of him,
the white flower he had planted in Chapter 6 grew again.
But this time there were two...one white, one black.
He knew what it meant.
The world had just rewritten itself.
"Then," he whispered,
"let's see who will write the end of this story…me, or you."
And from a distance, Arven's voice echoed again
"Write, Harith. But remember, for every word you carve, the world will erase a memory from you."
---
"In a world that tries to improve itself, a writer who rejects destiny will be an eternal mistake."