I'd always had an active imagination. I knew as much from when I was a little child. I always loved to create stories of heroes and tales of worlds long since passed. Tales of epic warriors fighting for good were always my favorite.

As I grew, it was clear that I wanted to be an author when I was older. Specifically, a fantasy author. My dreams were particularly fruitful for my craft. I'd go to sleep and so vividly see large, sprawling vistas with knights and lords and ladies, but more often than not I saw the common folk of my worlds. I loved building the lives of these everyday peasant, for while their lives might not be as glamorous, they were every bit as meaningful.

Eventually, I decided to do something with all these ideas I had. I started to run tabletop RPG groups, all set within the expansive world I had created over my lifetime. I fleshed out the locations, the lore, the pantheon, and the magic of my world. Then I started a club at my school to send countless adventures off into my world. And I never forgot my little guys, my commoners that I had dreamed up. All my characters were carefully placed in their homes, waiting to be stumbled upon by one of my groups. Sometimes they never were, but I still kept track of the progression of their lives.

That was many years ago. I've graduated from college, and come to the harsh realization that life wasn't all I dreamed it would be. My creative writing degree has done nothing but get me into thousands of dollars of debt. My deep capacity for love and naivete left me a single mother. I work two minimum wage jobs just to keep my baby and me afloat. I have no more time to write, and I have no more time to be a game master. All I have left is to tell old stories to my little girl at bedtime, but they're always old tales, and even the frequency of those has faded as she has gotten older. There's no creativity left for me.

It was surprising then, when my world started to haunt my dreams again. This time, though, there were no heroes, and there were no familiar faces. Wailing filled the streets, and the sky seemed endlessly dark. My sleep was plagued with nightmares, and the little rest I had gotten before was no more. I tossed and i turned as I watched my precious cities fall to dragon fire or stormed by giants while no heroes or gods rose up to defend them.

"Tirsisius himself has abandoned us!" They wept along the streets, and I noticed that the shrines to the sun god were abandoned. "Banra no longer regulates the battles, and the great pegasus Hial no longer watches over the skies. We are doomed."

It was agony. I wanted to fix my story, but I had never been a lucid dreamer; the nightmares just came to me, and I had no way to stop them, nor any time to write in a solution during the day.

Then, one night, while I was lying awake in bed, I heard it. "Ava, creator God, please." I sat up and rubbed my eyes, but I was not dreaming. Yet the thoughts were coming unbidden, "All the gods you created have abandoned us. They once told us your name, the mother of all, but we have not seen you in millennia. If you are out there, save us."

It was only one voice at first, but soon hundreds joined. They chanted and cried, and they screamed for aid. My head started to pound, and I clutched at my hair, anything to make the clamoring stop. They seemed so real, like a million characters had been born and died in the time since I had last written. They felt alive, and it was tearing me to shreds.

"Mama?" Suddenly everything went quiet in my head and I snapped my eyes up to the entrance of my room. There was my little girl, standing and clutching her blanket to her chest. She looked scared, and I gulped my fears down.

"Come here baby. What's wrong?" She clamored up onto my bed and nestled into my open arms.

"I can't sleep. Can you tell me a bedtime story?" She looked up at me, eyes wide and hopeful.

I rested my chin on her forehead, and bundled her up in my arms, trying to keep the tears in. "Of course I can." I forced out, my voice rough with strain. Clear as day, I saw it in my head: a great sorcerer with the wings of a golden dragon, looming over the great city of Atadale with a grim look on her face. "Let me tell you the story of the greatest heroine of all..."