ECHOBURN

Aoto had been awake for 36 hours, his eyes were twin moons of caffeine abuse, and his hands trembled with the weight of something beyond stress: absolute, utter defeat.

Dog-Eared was singing.

Not a song with lyrics. Not even a tune with rhythm. Just—sounds. Sound effects. He spun on Aoto's office chair, arms outstretched, making explosions and laser noises with his mouth.

"KSHHHH! FWOOOM! PEW PEW PEW—I AM THE FINAL PAGE DRAGON!"

Aoto stood. Slowly. The last thread of his patience snapped.

"I'm burning it," he announced.

Dog-Eared spun to a stop, legs splayed.

"Burning what?"

"The book. You. Whatever this is. I'm done. I'm throwing this entire cursed tree corpse into fire."

Dog-Eared clapped. "Yay, bonfire! Wait, what? No—HEY WAIT."

Aoto tossed the torn book and what was left of its pages into an old cooking bowl. He lit a match. The flame touched paper. Nothing happened.

The match burned out.

He tried again. This time with two matches.

The bowl somehow froze. Ice. The flame snuffed itself out with a squeaky wheeze.

Dog-Eared leaned over his shoulder, chewing on a gummy worm he found somewhere.

"Ooooh, maybe it's made of plot armor. Try peeing on it."

"WHAT—No! What is WRONG with you?!"

Aoto shoved the pages into the microwave. Slammed it shut. Hit "HIGH" for 5 minutes.

Thirty seconds in, the microwave exploded with a pitiful pop, shooting sparks and the scent of garlic for some reason.

Dog-Eared applauded. "Microwaved narrative tension! Delicious!"

Aoto hurled the book fragments out the window.

They landed on the street below.

He blinked.

They reappeared instantly on his pillow.

He screamed into the night like a character five arcs too early for a power-up.

He rolled over it with his sister's old bicycle.

The bike broke.

Dog-Eared: "Chapter Seven is built different."

Eventually, Aoto collapsed in the backyard, clutching the book fragments in his lap. The sky above was quiet. Birds were chirping. The world was still turning like everything was fine.

He wasn't fine.

"Why… won't… it BURN!?" he yelled at the sky.

Dog-Eared, still chewing something invisible, plopped beside him.

"Because it's not just a book anymore," he said, voice weirdly calm.

He poked Aoto in the chest.

"You're the book now. Dummy."

Aoto wheezed. "I didn't ask for this."

Dog-Eared giggled and stood up, stretching.

"Nobody asks to be a plot device. But here we are."

Then, as he turned to skip back toward the house, he added over his shoulder:

"Oh! Almost forgot. You're about to go to hell and back!"

Aoto sat upright. "Excuse me!?"

Dog-Eared grinned, upside-down now, hanging from the fence like a raccoon.

"Yup! Hope you packed snacks! Byeee!"

And then—

The book began to glow.

Not light. Not flame.

Energy. Like raw story unraveling.

Before Aoto could react, the book flared and rushed into his chest in a flash of red-gold and pale white. His body arched, muscles locking. Pages flipped behind his eyes.

Ink. Names. Symbols. 

Then—nothing.

He collapsed, panting, fingers gripping dirt.

Dog-Eared peeked back in from the window.

"Told ya".

He vanished.