Can you grow old with friends you’ve only met in books? Do you grow apart from your book friends as time passes like you do from real friends?

I just finished the last book in a series 23 years in the making. It’s called The Wheel of Time and it’s a massive fourteen-book (plus prequel) fantasy epic whose first installment came out in 1990. I was six then. The Wheel of Time just kept turning and turning, as the years stretched to decades and 3 books became 6 became 12 became 14, plus a prequel. The series even transcended death itself at one point, when the original author (Robert Jordan) passed away and a new author (Brandon Sanderson) took his place. And then this year, the final volume (A Memory of Light) finally came out.

There are, as the books say, neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But the series began for me when I was in 7th grade. I was a boy from a small rural town no one had heard of; the three main characters in the story—Rand, Mat and Perrin—were boys from a small rural town no one had heard of. The three of them were all really into killing trollocs and traveling to strange lands beyond what they could have imagined. Wouldn’t you know it, I was into those things too. A fast friendship quickly formed. So as Rand, Mat and Perrin left their hometown for the first time and learned that one of them would end up being the Dragon Reborn—the man prophesied to save the world by breaking it—I found I could identify with this too. College was just a few years away.

Since those adolescent days, I’ve aged faster than Rand and co. In the story, only 2 calendar years passed between the opening of Book 1 and The Last Battle in Book 14. It’s taken me 15 years to get there. So where Rand, Mat and Perrin started the series at age 20 and ended it at age 22; I started at age 13 and ended at age 28. Role models became old friends from high school.

And like a lot of old friends, our interests have grown apart somewhat over the years. I’m not as interested in blade masters and the One Power and Sealing The Bore On The Dark One’s Prison as I used to be; but Rand, Mat and Perrin are all still pretty focused on that sort of thing. The three of them became great warriors, leaders, saviors of humanity. Ta’veren, as the books say: people so important that the threads of reality itself bend around them. I became a lawyer. As Rand said, don’t try “getting into a bragging contest with the Dragon Reborn.”

But like a ten-year high school anniversary, we were all invited to get back together for one last shindig. In this case, The Last Battle. I showed up. I mostly just stood in the corner, drinking the punch, watching while Mat and Perrin killed a bunch of trollocs and Rand (spoiler alert!) Sealed The Bore On The Dark One’s Prison.

A lot of other folks were there too, many half (or more) forgotten to me. At first, I found myself frantically pulling up names on my iPhone, trying to remember who was who before they walked over and talked to me. That’s Nynaeve, I almost didn’t recognize her without her braid. There’s Egwene; I can’t believe she married Gawyn. I had no idea who Talmanes was, but it turns out he is the funniest guy in the class, funnier even than Mat, maybe. Eventually I got comfortable and realized I was just having a good time with old friends as the world ended.

So yeah, I could complain about bits and pieces of the writing, threads not being resolved or being resolved too lightly. But really, after fifteen years, fourteen books, two authors—I mean, this was something I just had to see through. As the Borderlander fellow says, “duty is heavier than a mountain.” And in truth, it’s amazing it all held together as well as it did.

Now the party’s over, the (spoiler alert!) Bore On The Dark One’s Prison has been Sealed, and I’m stumbling into the parking lot with Rand, Mat, and Perrin, asking which one of them is sober enough to drive me home. They all look at me.

Finally, Rand says, “Uh, dude, you don’t live here anymore. Remember?”

“Well, sh*t.”

“Yeah, man, you live in Chicago now,” Perrin says. “You were talking about it tonight, and how your roommate couldn’t make because he was busy with a new job or something.”

“I remember. He’ll be here, don’t worry, he’s just a bit late.”

“Late?” Mat says. “dude, party’s over. We (spoiler alert!) won.” He tries to take a long swig from a Coor’s Light he’d stashed in his coat. It’s empty.

“I keep telling you guys,” I reply, “time works differently out there. It’s like when (spoiler alert!) Rand was Sealing The Bore On The Dark One’s Prison. My friends will get here.” Rand and Perrin nod at this, because this makes perfect sense within The Wheel of Time.

“Whatever, man,” Mat says. He tosses the first bottle over his shoulder and pulls out a second. His wife, Tuon, glares at him from their car.

Perrin sees her too and says, “I think we better get out of here before Tuon stops staring daggers at Mat and starts throwing them.

“Light, I’m married!” Mat replies. He drops the second Coor’s Light.

We all get in a good laugh at this. After a moment, it quiets down and we realize we are all still standing awkwardly in the parking lot, not moving and not saying anything.

Finally, Rand breaks the silence and asks, “So you’re going to wait for one of your friends to get here to give you a ride?”

I shake my head. “Don’t have to. Already back in my apartment. I’m just waking from the World of Dreams, so to speak.”

They all nod at this, because in The Wheel of Time this also makes perfect sense. I turn to go.

“Wait,” Rand says just before I leave, “when do you think we’ll see you again? Now that this is over, we won’t have any specific excuse to hang out anymore.”

I turn to him and my other literary friends. “Look, we hung out in middle school, we hung out in high school, we hung out in college, and we hung out in law school. We’re hanging out now. I’m sure I’ll stop by again someday. Who knows, maybe by then I’ll have a wife and kids of my own and they can (spoiler alert!) meet yours.”