[Author’s Notes / Story Q&A]

Thank you, everyone, for joining me in Final Call! Whether you hopped in or just read (or are reading this in the future), I’m so grateful for your time and presence with me. It was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!.

The final length of this story was almost 40,000 words (around 90 pages in gdocs)! Which is a lot, but I also achieved my goal of not trying to hit NaNo wordcounts during this hell year, lol. If and when you want to reread it, you’ll be able to find this story linked from my Interactive Fiction page. Feel free to check out some older interactive stories there too!

If you enjoyed the story and are looking for ways to support me and my work, you can learn about and pick up my books over here. Read some already? Leaving a good rating or review on Goodreads or Amazon can make all the difference. I’ve also got a tip jar over at Ko-Fi if you’d like to buy me a drink! And please, feel free to follow me on social media to see what I’m up to: Personal Twitter and Book Twitter.

Now that that’s done—let’s do a story Q&A! Feel free to ask me anything you want about the story, whether it’s about what my writing process was, how I got the idea for certain events or characters, things people may have suspected but not had confirmed, other ‘routes’, etc. Wonder what would have happened if you’d done X instead of Y? Ask it here! (Lurkers are totally allowed to ask too, you don’t need to have participated to ask!).

I think, also, the story managed to hit the full list of tropes you turned in way back at the beginning, whether in the play within the story or within the story itself. We had a betrayal, a monster who-isn’t-that-monstrous, unrequited love AND secret longing, a costume that’s more than a costume, a duel, a sudden earthquake, a key that refuses to be used, two characters mistaken for each other because of their startling resemblance, crossdressing for flimsy plot purposes and, of course, an emotionally-fraught kiss.

Thank you once again… and happy Halloween!

[Ask Me Some Questions, I’ll Tell You No Lies]

There is one thing that Lucien knows, though he knows nothing else here: he cannot let Shuni ascend.

Does Shuni even want to become a Lord? He never expressed interest in anything but getting his own heart back, and the fear of it ending up in someone else’s hands. Sacrificing it now seems—wrong. It’s Shuni’s choice if he wants to become a Lord, of course, but right now, it’s not one made with full consent. In a best case scenario, he’s making it because his powerful ex told him that if he did it, he’d take him back. In a worst case scenario… well, Shuni has already admitted to Lucien that he doesn’t feel anything deeply with his heart out of his chest. Is even capable of deeply wanting to become a Lord? Of deeply wanting anything?

More simply: Shuni’s affair with Lord Peacock didn’t end well the first time, and he deserves better than being manipulated by this asshole.

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Time seems to slow. 

Lucien feels as if he has a choice here. He could run to Shuni himself, trade the box for the knife, and keep it out of Shuni’s hands—he’s not sure why, but he feels as if it’s dangerous for Shuni to have it right now.

Or he could divert them, and deal with the known threat: Frederik. Frederik is chasing Shuni with openly murderous intent, and is gaining on him.

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

So it’s the finale tonight. So the Lords might be destroyed, so the world might end— 

So what? The show must go on. Better that he focus on doing what he knows, and doing it well, Lucien decides. If he panics, he’ll endanger the performance itself, and perhaps everything will go wrong. 

If he performs well, if he has his wits about him, perhaps everything will go right.

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Lucien stares into the pool, trying to see something, anything, even his own reflection, but there’s nothing there, just the blackness of the pool and the lock he sees within it. The surface ripples like water, but he cannot see anything reflected in it. 

He tries again to access the lock, thrusting his hand in again, this time holding the key—holding on tight, afraid of losing it—but again, it passes through it with no sensation whatsoever, the ripple parting and then forming again, distorted.

It can never be simple, can it? He frowns down at the pool.