There's this one moment when you finish a book — the end of the chapter, the last word, the period at the end of the sentence. But with Das Echo vergessener Götter, it felt different than other projects. It was like a door had fallen behind me and then I realized the people I just let through it weren't actually gone.
Elara Vex stalked me. In the literal sense — she snuck into my thoughts, made me think about things I actually didn't want to process. But she had a point: That we see ourselves as powers just because we can create things. But real power — the real kind — has nothing to do with creation, but with letting go.
And then there was Maelis, the one who wanted to warn Elara but ended up falling into his own trap. Maelis stressed me out—not as a character, but as the person behind the writing process. I wrote him and thought: Why are you doing this? Why do you risk everything for a truth that could destroy you? But Maelis just kept going. He pushed forward, and I realized that I was actually Maelis—the one who has to risk everything to understand.
It's strange how characters can trap you when they sacrifice themselves too much. Maelis died—and I felt like a part of me was leaving with him. Not because he was a real person, but because I gave him too much of my own courage.
And now? Now they don't leave anymore. Elara sits in my drawer and Maelis has a permanent spot on my nightstand. When I start a new project, they always come back—as if to say: We're still here. We wait.