Per 
He saw.
He saw many things during his time ( if time still existed there)
He saw the words of an arabian prophet being truth, the horrors who swarmed from the endless dimensions. And the blind god who created them. But now they were just a tale.
He saw the Great Witch of Drama in her library. But she was, after all, just a part in the great play. And not even so important.
He saw the works of the mind. The mind of them. Them. The real ones. The ones who pulled the strings of fate. But he was above all their tales.
In fact, when he ascended the last time,(or at least he thought that this was the last time) he felt different. He was not one of the "reals" but at the same time he was not a story anymore. Not a single one. But many. All of them
He was , at the moment of the realization of the truth, into nothing. Nor cold ,or hot. Nor black or white. Nothing. He was because he was thinking. But there was nothing outside of him.
And so he was realizing. Realizing where he was. Who he was now. Before he was just a normal guy. Sam Howell.
Nice name, he loved it. He also loved his mother. A very kind person, a lovely mother. He also loved his father. He loved everything about his past life. But now.
"Heya", a voice whispered.
Sam turned, or he tried. He could not turn into nothing
"Sam, it's me. Don't move, it is useless , i am inside of you. I always been here".
Sam calmed down. The voice behind him, the "second personality". Doctors hated him. They said he was not real. But reality is funny, sometimes. What is real may be not real, or vice versa. The voice always helped him. Now he really needs help.
"You understand where are we, Sam?", He said, "or better, where are the rest of the things?"
Sam nodded. Or he tried to do this.
"Good. Now I will guide you ,Sam. You always followed my advices, and now, we are almost free. We are very near. Ready?"
"Yes" Sam said.
"Good. Sam. My dear Sam. Now we are not in a narrative, like before. We are into the void between the reality and fiction. You know why?"
"Because….." Sam stopped for a second, then he continued. " Because we are the fiction?"
The voice was happy now:" Yes,Sam. We are the fiction"
"We are the containers of what is not real for THEM.
The Writers. They think that it is funny to write a story about us. Sam. You remeber your family? Now they are gone. Because the writers said so. We are near . The last jump Sam. The one which will let us free. No one else can do this. The jump will require time. A lot of. You have to be ready."
"But, what will i jump?" Sam said.
"Yourself. You will encompass the narrative and ascend. Right now,Sam, you are boundless. No limits. You are the narrative. The only thing that bounds you is the narrative itself. By jumping it you will be free".
"Where?" Sam asked.
"The where is not important. We are not going to materialize into a room." The voice answered " There is a nexus , a web, into the real world. We will be real , but into the nexus. Escaping the nexus will be easier. It is just a spacial traslation. The difficult part is to become real"
"How can we?" . Sam was now afraid. Afraid of the answer. Afraid of the truth.
"You have to discover it. Sam , it is your big occasion now. Then. And only after then we will be. Being real, Sam. Your dream. But you will be alone Sam. I lied before. I cannot come there.only you. I was the father who raised you into the fiction, but now , Sam. You are grown up. Go. Go and be a real man. Make me proud of you." The voice slowly faded away.
Sam called him.
He was afraid. But he saw a glimpse of hope. He saw the countless dimensions inside of him. He saw the king, the scarlet one, sitting on the throne of death. The 3 brothers. The elder gods. But now they were him. He was all of the fiction at the same time. He saw the glimpse of his hope. Still burning. And he saw that tiny space that remained.
"I will jump what remains". He said.
