The Epic of Eludnir

When I opened the book of settings I had written, I found that the pages were seeping with star mist. The moment I passed through the title page, I heard the heartbeat of the world. They call me "The Observer" - Because I know the true names of the gods, know the truth about lost eras, and can summon miracles that do not exist in this world. But the world is betraying my settings: The supreme being who should be sleeping whispers in the abyss, The dead ancient god looks back at the end of time, And the most loyal hero in my novel is leading the army of the undead to knock on the door of the living world. At this moment, I am standing in the Vientiane Library and hear all things asking: "Mr. Author, how do you rewrite this... Story that has long been out of your control?"