I’m sitting in Hoboken as the book goes live, looking at the Empire State Building. I see the NYC skyline, the Hudson.
The launch is quiet and intimate. Just me, the river, and the city on the other side of it.
The Prophet is now written into existence. He no longer belongs to me, and he no longer lives in my head. I’ve given him a form: dressed with words and stripped of empathy.
Where he lived
I started this book in 2022, inside the halls of HealthDart. For three years it came and went. From May 2025 to February 2026 I pushed it to the end.
For most of that time he lived in my head, along with everyone else. Aidan walked beside me for hours a day. The others had files: their history, their weaknesses, written down so I couldn’t go soft on them.
The Prophet was different. I modelled him on perfection, and perfection has no empathy. He was never easy company.
Letting him go
Today he leaves. He belongs to whoever opens the book now. In the story he finds people in the hours when they feel most alone. Now he will find readers the same way, and what he says to them is out of my hands.
Forty-four chapters are mine. The last one I gave to Crow. Even at the end, I wasn’t the last voice.
So I sit here and watch the skyline, with more room in my head than I’ve had in four years.
Written by Yauvan. Edited with AI.