Diero is currently my favorite character here.
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He’s one of my favorites too. I think that making likeable characters with fun dynamics is one of the things that Bo_ excels at.
Woah, a desktop conputer just went crashing through my window
I think the main character has four legs
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Does he have four heads?
makes sense
Ah true.
ooh I guess we’ll see if that proves to be true
Fourget about these fourced theories. They’re pretty four-fetched and it’d be a four pax four me to answer them. My writing is four too fourmidable to be fourlorn.
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He keeps multiplying!
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Oh, that’s unfourtunate
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Except four me…
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So you know the schism theory?
There is more evidence for it now.
In BoR, Ghid is a physical being who can be arrested, and who is presumably inside the cider factory. In BoL, Ghid is inside the simulation, which is happening at the same time as BoR because the end of BoR happens in BoL. Because Ghid cannot be in two places at once, there are two Ghids. BoR Ghid is the body of Ghid, while The One To Trust in BoL is Tott.
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ooh I like that theory actually
presumably being the keyword here.
(Actually, doesn’t BoD say that the Cider Factory is outside the Dark Wall, so Ghid can’t actually get to it physically?)
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Woah, that was an awesome twist! Gotta admit, wasn’t expecting Rukah to die. Can’t wait for chapter 6.
What’s up with that light? Could it be Sonus? Or perhaps Wildsong?
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Did Racie02 travel through time to read Chapter 5?? 
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wait how does a knife die
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wait I guess then Racie02 didn’t travel through the future
that and Ghid wouldn’t kill someone so important
I assume being snapped in half kills a knife just like it would a person.
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–
Chapter 5
–
“What is your name?”
The Chronicler looked up in surprise, having read the words written rather than actually heard them. “I am the Chronicler.” He responded, unsure of how to feel about the direction this conversation was headed. “There is no need for me to have a title beyond my purpose.”
“But that’s boring!” You protested. The Chronicler’s reaction of stunned amazement at your outburst was incentive enough to reapproach. “I apologize. The world is so full of unique and interesting things, it feels so underwhelming to find something with so much potential, and no incentive to capitalize on that.”
“Well.” The Chronicler scratched the back of one of his hands, trying not to look offended. “Forgive me if I have never considered any other title besides my current one. I hardly have time to think of myself, what with not being alive.”
The words stung. “You’re not… Alive?”
“No.” The Chronicler mused, pulling at the end of his feather pen. “My existence is entirely artificial, as is the existence of everything in this world. The moment your story ends, so does all of this.”
“Now it isn’t that bad.” The Chronicler replied, primarily to your mortified expression at his previous statement. “I have completely accepted my inevitable fate, as all people are fated to die. It’s just that mine will be far sooner than most, but no shorter than your own.”
“You crafted every idea that I constructed into reality.” You retorted. “This all in order to provide me with a story, an end to every endeavor. Well I have something else I would like you to do.”
“I’m not a wish-granter, but I’ll consider the request.” The Chronicler mused, glancing at his writing casually. “Companions for your journey? A more definite path to follow? Some inglorious foe to overcome and the strength to face him?”
“I want you to live.”
There was a horrible scratching noise as the pen dug sharply into the paper, and its author stared, completely flabbergasted, at the very idea. “But- That would- The order of the world, I- With conscious choice I could- I couldn’t just-”
This babble was cut short by a blinding golden light which appeared suddenly in front of you. It was so magnificent and stunning that even the distant sun was dimmed by its brilliance, and the Chronicler threw himself in front of you to keep your vision from being impaired, but the light seemed to shine right through him.
There was a voice, the author of sweetness, which echoed across the light itself and thundered beyond the reaches of the sky. The Chronicler was shrouding his face in his arms to keep writing, lest he become overwhelmed by the majesty beaming through the air and fall in fealty. The figure had two eyes perched atop a massive peak, only identifiable as his head, and even with this strange placement they glared downwards with such a masterful air that not even the air around him could stand to move in defiance of his will. Two more eyes appeared on the right side of his head, as if the pair cutting into your very being were doing an insufficient job.
Your knees buckled at the presence of this figure and your arms involuntarily flew in front of your face. Could this be the one who had created this world?
“The stars and constellations are only as bright as the void is dark.” The stranger spoke with the voice of sweetness, his words reflecting off of the light radiating from his frame. “I am at the mercy of the darkness of this world. Elsewhere I am brighter still.”
“You do not know me, but I knew you before you ever were.” He continued on, the light shaking and shuddering with each syllable. “I am what has been and what will forever be. I resign in every thought and deed of the living. Here, I see every thought and emotion, every deed, and the consequences of. Few have ever seen me and all hope resides in my confidence. I am The One To Trust.”
“In this world, your story - your fancy, your whims - dictate what you encounter and what hardships your must overcome. Yet in no other story has the protagonist desired the power to gift life itself to those around him. Your existence will cease at the end of your story, but I promise to give you that which you desire before the pages are drawn to close.”
The sun above suddenly darkened, turning a wicked blue surrounded by darkness, as if the sun was now illuminated by a lack of light, and it fell from the sky, crashing into the forest below. The moment it landed a thunderous roar split the mountain, freeing the clipper ship to slowly ascend into the air and right itself.
“Overcome all opposition, and your Chronicler shall truly live.”
The golden light brightened for a moment, and then it was gone.
–
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It’s a little smaller.
What about the unknown number of Ghids painted and clothed by Fifty in the cider factory?
I actually spoiled his eventual death all the way back in the first book guys, because I’m so smart
I did kill the main cast in two separate stories though
The Dark Wall was also constructed with the sole purpose to keep Ghid confined. I would imagine they did a pretty good job, if they were willing to sacrifice everyone inside just to keep Ghid contained.
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welp there’s The One To Trust
yes, but in BoD you resurrected them
Actually you didn’t because I wasn’t a user in the first book.
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yes but ok but ok
So the last two chapters have started with the same sentence. Maybe it’s parallelism, or maybe the events occurring with Tott and co. affect those in the BoL simulation?
or maybe this is what you call grasping at straws
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