Death walked through the Void without being touched by it.
The void, which did not exist in any defined sense, trembled before her presence. What was nothing, what could not feel, began to perceive her. Every atom of space and non-space registered her passing… too late.
She looked down, where the Red Moon hung like a bleeding red eye in the infinite vastness, and stored her scythe in a pocket dimension, suspended between the visible and the impossible.
Death: I'm sure that guy knows… —a vein appears on her forehead— I'll have to talk to him.
Alcanor, it seems she's angry.
Alcanor: I already knew (laughs) continue with the chapter.
Okay (sigh)
Death headed toward a beyond beyond the Blue Moon. There she remained motionless, contemplating a point that was neither void nor existence, a threshold of no return where only the word of a being from another plane could grant passage.
Death: (telepathically) I know you're there… or rather, there is no place where you are not. Allow me to enter.
The omnipresent voice of Alcanor resonated everywhere and nowhere at once.
Alcanor: Permission granted.
Death vanished instantly, leaving neither trace nor echo.
Although everything that is and everything that is not recognized her, without Alcanor's authorization she would not have crossed even the boundary.
Death appeared in the Creator's Forest from nowhere, subtly warping reality around her.
She activated her Cosmic Eye, and what had seemed like a natural forest transformed into a higher state of existence.
Each tree was an ontological pillar. Their leaves contained entire universes; trunks that supported nothing physical, but rather the coherence of reality itself. Each branch vibrated with primordial principles; each root connected overlapping dimensions and complete domains. The fundamental forces of Creation, Balance, and Recreation did not rule there: they made it possible.
Invisible barriers floated, absolute laws embedded in the very essence of the Forest, preventing any external interference.
Time twisted: it stopped, fragmented, rewrote itself.
Colors, shapes, and sizes fluctuated according to infinite cosmic cycles. The seasons were not climates: they were living manifestations of eternal creation and dissolution.
To be in the Creator's Forest was not "to be in a place": it was to stand before the root of everything that could be.
Death: This place keeps changing… very different from the last time.
Suddenly, the Ocular Being (Guardian) appeared. A single flap made the entire Forest tremble; his aura forced Death to tense every fiber of her essence to avoid collapsing before him.
Guardian:(telepathically) Death… what brings you here?
His voice allowed no reply. Death had to concentrate her entire existence to withstand the ontological pressure.
Death: I have come to see my master and creator. He… (inhales and exhales deeply) granted me permission to enter.
The Guardian activated his absolute vision, searching for any sign of falsehood. After an eternal instant:
Guardian: I see that you speak the truth.
The Guardian vanished, dissipating his aura while continuing his vigilance from afar. Death sighed, relaxing body, mind, and essence.
Alcanor: It shows that you've improved… if you were the same as eons ago, you'd already be on your knees before the Guardian.
Alcanor was sitting on a tree branch. Death looked at him, and a vein tightened on her forehead.
Death: Stop testing me, after so long without being here… (inhales, exhales) I came to ask you something.
Alcanor: I know. I saw that scene through your own eyes. —he descends from the tree— Here you can see and hear the conversation I had "recently" with Anomaly.
Hundreds of windows of realities appeared around them, pointing toward a narrative plane without coordinates, a place that did not exist and was not "here".
Death approached. Inside, glitches, errors, and polygons danced with no form and no fixed point. Anomaly was not in one place, nor in all places. It was incoherence made entity, and there was Alcanor of that moment.
Alcanor: One could say this isn't a recording made by me of my conversation with Anomaly… Observe. There you will see part of what Anomaly is. —his eyes fix on an edge that is not a horizon, a boundary of what they call "the work"— Focus.
Standing beside the windows, Death perceived the change in Alcanor's tone. It was not normal. Serious.
Death: Alcanor… what's happening?
The definition of "Narrative" stops; all characters and roles (except the Narrator and Author) and continuity freeze.
Narrator: I hope it's not because of me… or because of "Error404_", since you only freeze everything when it's important.
Alcanor: (telepathically) It's not because of you, nor because of him. It's something else. And surely… "Error404_" knows.
Error404_ (Author's thought): Stop breaking the wall already… (sighs) So… what will you do about it, Alcanor?
Alcanor: (telepathically) I have no other choice. A law was broken… there is only one way to fix it.
Error404_: Break the narrative continuity of that other work? Are you sure? After all, Zareth—
Alcanor: (telepathically) I've already decided. I will not change my mind. Alanai will return… but the other domains and works connected by this universal network will be discontinued, erased, completely destroyed.
Alcanor turned toward me and the Narrator. We both sighed and nodded.
Alcanor nodded. A portal appeared behind him. He entered. It closed instantly.
404: I'll write again.
Narrator: Stop identifying yourself in the chapter with only part of your name!
Error: Why? Can't I?
Narrator: Because then you confuse everything.
_: And what's my fault in that? (laughs)
Narrator: Are you going to write again or not?
Error_: Maybe tomorrow, or when I stop being lazy.
Narrator: It'll take you weeks again… (sigh) Alcanor's going to scold you again.
404_: He already scolded me enough outside the work. I'm used to it now. (whistles)
Narrator: DON'T END THE CHAPTER OUT OF NOWHERE!
I laughed a lot before ending this chapter.