[Participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]

The author of a fantasy series finds himself in the very realm he has created decades after the end of the main story. There are certain benefits to technically being the creator, but he quickly realize that they come with heavy responsibilities.

Loose threads he had buried too deep for anyone to notice have festered and threaten the existence of people that are now as real as he is. The fabric of reality itself is wounded, and no one else has the ability to even understand the symptoms.

But now that he lives there, how could he allow the cataclysmic backstory of a sequel to ever be triggered?