Keeper of the Lost Cities: Elysian

Author's Note (3)

What does a final author's note require, anyway?

"I'm out of inspiration," Merida declared, flopping onto the couch next to Keefe. "I've finished another story. But... I don't know what to say for the afterword."

"The what?" Keefe asked, perplexed.

"Conclusion, endnote, appendix, whatever," Merida said impatiently. "What do I write?"

"Something that makes people remember you," Keefe replied after a minute of thought. "It doesn't have to be formal or extravagant. But remember to put my name as one of the people you'd thank, because I've been giving you all these wonderful ideas."

"Hmm," Merida said, the gears in her mind beginning to spin again.

Oh, and thank you for all of your comments.

"I have received a lot of these," Merida muttered as she scrolled down the Wattpad page. She shut her laptop and sighed, grimly calculating the time it would take to get through all of them. "It's going to take forever to respond to every single one."

She hadn't expected her readers to be so energetic... and persistent in giving her already aching fingers a workout.

"Unless you use this thing I found on the human internet called ChatGPT," Keefe suggested, spinning the chair he was sitting on around and around. Just looking at him made Merida dizzy, although he seemed perfectly fine. "I'm not sure how it works, but it's supposedly adept at handling issues for lazy people."

"Like you," Merida said under an exaggerated cough, which elicited a grin from him.

"Merida's task requires integrity you don't possess," Elysian called from the kitchen, where she was simultaneously cooking dinner and washing dishes... or reading a book while the dishes cooked and washed themselves. Which Merida thought was quite ironic. "Besides, I've tried nearly every single artificial intelligence-powered literature and art tool on the internet, and most of them don't work as they're intended to. Don't worry, Merida. You'll be able to handle it."

"Very well," Merida said, sighing. "I'll get to work."

Hi. Hello. Greetings.

It's me, CelestialMoonlight7, the author of this Wattpad page you're currently viewing on your device. Not the abyss, although you might have made the connection with the bolded text.

What a surprise, given the last 45 chapters have not had an instance of me communicating directly with you. If you haven't read the story yet, you probably shouldn't be here... (but knowing I've just said that, you're definitely going to keep scrolling. Oh well.)

But now that I am communicating with you, I'd like to start by saying openly and frankly, that this story was... quite rough.

"This story is absolute garbage," Merida announced. "Like the others that keep popping up on this stupid recommendations list. Who is this CelestialMoonlight7 person, and what do they think they're doing?"

"Let me see," Keefe said, putting his homework down. But his expression immediately turned to confusion. "Uh... what's wrong?"

"Everything," Merida exploded in exasperation. "Seventy-six chapters and the author took more than a year? There are plot holes and logical errors everywhere. Random chaos added to the plot just because the author feels like it. Stupid cliffhangers in every chapter. Overly emphasized romance between the main character and her boyfriend. And worst of all..."

"What?" Keefe asked flatly. Merida was so engrossed in the story that she didn't notice his lack of attention.

"There are GRAMMAR AND SPELLING MISTAKES," she barked. "What is English to you, you moron? Your second language or something?"