“Mother?” Melissa replied incredulously. “I’m not your mother.”

“You created me, didn’t you?” the character questioned, her voice accented with a light brogue. Her smile faded and she tilted her head inquisitively, her strawberry hair falling over her right shoulder.

“Well, kind of. But I’m not your mother. Rena is your mother.” Melissa froze. She didn’t know her mother! I’ve ruined my character!

“Who is Rena?” May as well tell her now, Melissa reasoned.

“Rena is your mother,” the author repeated, looking at her creation with gleaming eyes. “She… she died giving birth to you.” She watched her character’s face darken. “There was nothing anyone could do about it,” she continued, “and you were raised to conscious being by the city.”

“Afterward, I ran away,” her character finished, “and joined the performers. My life has gone pretty well since then, aside from the assassination problem and the recent plans.”

“What recent plans?” She hadn’t written anything about recent plans.