Happy Nice Mall

Molly gave me an acid look. “You know what I think about that kind of laundering.”

I did; everyone did. Meritxell, Elyse Flayme’s best friend, was always finding ways to continue using magic. and He was delaying the destruction of Arrenia, and Elyse always said: We must choose what is important to us, Mer.

We talked all night. I mostly listened. I realized that Molly Khan was alone in that house for too long. False starts poured out. The horizon turned into a humming darkness as he reviewed the various versions he had tried and rejected. He went to dig through the notebooks for the lines he half remembered. The truth is, it all sounded great to me, but Molly wasn’t satisfied.

From the beginning, a certainty was growing in my mind.

Molly Khan emptied the second bottle of wine and when I did some research on Elyse Flayme she asked what Elyse was hiding; what this avatar can do has finally come to life. He was going to the kitchen to drink more, but this question brought him back to the balcony: He said something, then something else, something else while I cheered him up. I was the only witness: there, in the darkness above the ocean, something came out of nowhere: an end.

Soon Molly sat at her desk and began to write down what she had just explained. I collapsed onto the bed in the little guest room. My last thought before going to sleep was that I had accomplished my mission: to unblock the author, to secure the future of the series. Maybe I deserved a commission… just a small share of $20 million.

I found Molly in exactly the same place this morning. He hadn’t slept. In a low-lying neighborhood, coffee cups joined the tower block of notebooks on his desk. Its keyboard rattled like a subway car; It went down the rail without stopping at any station. He was definitely focused; no part of him moved except his fingers, he turned towards his targets. Did he write all the books like that?

I was afraid to offend him, because breaking the spell would be costly, and I feared that he would turn around and his eyes would be like Osric Worldender’s, like shadowy pits crackling with black lightning.