Burnt hair and Froot Loops, Xavier knew he was in the Bright Lands before he opened his eyes. This time he hoped he had legs. Three deep centering breaths later, Xavier flexed. Flames of pains feathered across his left side. He surrendered to the suffering.

I should’ve been a plumber, Xavier mused. Whilst waiting for his ribs to knit, he dreamt of happily slaving on an ore refinery ship. Something slithered close to his head. A mechno-roach probably, he thought. The writer opened his eyes slowly. Through pained lids, Xavier caught sight of the creature’s shiny antennas. The roach gave a banshee cry.

He had half a mind to just lie here wherever here was and let the bug scavengers have a field day. But Xavier had done that before. In fact he had died many many times in the realm of his own making. Unfortunately getting eaten was so itchy.

Suddenly Xavier flung himself up to his feet. Disloged, the metal insect squished under his hooves. Hooves! The scribe shook himself. Humanoid head, arms, powerful torso, and a horse body, Xavier twerked his chestnut tail. He pranced in a tight circle in the trash-strewn alleyway.

He’d always wanted to be a writer. If only there were still books, but no now everything was immersive experiences. Xavier wrote his heart out for peanuts. When DarkStar in the Bright Lands with viral Xavier was gobsmacked. It was exciting to be admired.

23 versions later Xavier was sick of his characters and his reductive plot lines. He was sick of himself. Sales on his other experiences underperformed. Year after year, his main character DarkStar solved crimes in an apocalyptic wasteland all while investigating that one murder that blah blah blah.

Xavier was bored to death of psychotic bounty hunters and slow zombies, but mythological figures were something different. Tapping his wrists and loaded armor cuffs appeared. Sweet! He reached for ray guns on his nonexistent waist and a quiver of rocket arrow and crossbow appeared instead. Double sweet!

Admiring himself, the centaur checked out his gear in a puddle of acid rain. He’d wished he had pants but his fedora looked great. Ripples slid across the water. Xavier drew his bow at the shadow of wings overhead.

Blackwing, DarkStar’s sometimes partner sometimes adversary, circled the alley before perching on a fire escape. Instead of a badass biker scientist, Blackwing was an axe-wielding harpy. Xavier gave her a goofy grin.

“Hark, stranger, the undead rise at dusk. come with me if you want to live,” Blackwing said. “Or not.”

Leaping up, Blackwing swooped past the centaur checked out his well muscled chest and took to the sky. She glided away. Story ideas percolating, Xavier galloped after the feathered beauty.