Today was a great day.

Ayah hummed softly as she rearranged her desk for the third time in an hour. Today was a great day. Not only was it her birthday, but tomorrow would be the first day of her long week-long vacation for over two years. She had everything planned. On the way home, she would pass by her favorite bakery and indulge herself with some chocolate cakes.

She glided her chair to reach for the pile of manuscripts she still had to go through, barely stopping herself from spinning the chair. She felt like she was floating. Living amongst clouds. Finally, she could take a break to get away from all these lazy–missionaries from hell–authors and focus on herself.

“Ayah, are you done with editing the manuscript?” Taha, the head editor, eyed her warily.

Ayah smiled sweetly at him. “Almost done,” she sing-songed before grabbing the manuscript and getting to work.

A moment later, she slammed the manuscript on Taha's desk, cheerfully announcing it was done.

He slowly looked up at her and then back at the manuscript.

“It was well done. It's well and ready to be published,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You're sure?”

Ayah couldn't begrudge him his doubt. After all, it was the fourth time they had asked Miss Laila to redo her work. Ayah knew some other editors had a running bet on whether it would ever be published.

She hummed, nodding. "I re-checked it three times." When he didn't budge, she slapped his shoulder with not too much force, grinning. “Have some faith.”

He warily stared at the manuscript briefly before putting it with the others soon to be published.

Ayah beamed at him. Today was indeed a great day.

“Kamal, have you got any news from Mister Loaye?” Taha asked.

Kamal, a new recruit, sat hunched over his desk, his shoulders drawn towards his chest as if he were trying to make himself disappear. He startled, some papers strewn over his desk falling to the ground at his feet. He paused momentarily, wondering if failing to answer the question would make them forget he was there. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and looked up at them. His face was pale, more so than usual, with a gaunt look in his eyes and dark patches making him look like he hadn't slept for the last century.

Ayah sympathized with him. She had been there. She shivered as she recalled the countless sleepless nights and the tears she had shed the first few months. New recruits always get saddled up with the most infuriating and problematic authors. And while Loaye Hessen was one of the star authors of their publishing company, with millions of copies sold, he was the absolute worst author an editor could deal with. He was stubborn, uncooperative, and never respected deadlines. A complete nightmare.

He absolutely refused to change even a line in his work, claiming that his characters had a will of their own and that it wasn't his right to dictate how they should act as if they were truly alive.

Infuriating! Ayah huffed.

Kamal shook his head, a lock of his matted hair dislodging with the motion and laying limp at the side of his face. Ayah grimaced. When was the last time he took a bath?

“No.” Kamal sighed. “He's not even answering his phone.”

Ayah stiffened as Taha glanced her way. No, he wouldn't dare, she thought frantically. She's been waiting so long for this day.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, his head tilted to the side in a semblance of thinking. After a few agonizing moments, he asked, “Do you have any more work?”

Ayah hesitated before saying no, her voice titling at the end, making it sound more of a question than a statement.

“Perfect.” He thumped the desk, voice triumphant as if he found a gem buried under all the manuscripts littering the offices' desks. He turned to Kamal. “She'll help you deal with him.”

Excuse you! Ayah wanted to scream, to throw a tantrum. He didn't even ask her…

“You're one of our best editors. And you've dealt with authors of his kind. I'm sure you'll do just fine,” Taha said, fixing her with a grin.

“Tomorrow is the first day of my week-long vacation,” she protested weakly.

“Of course,” Taha said, the smirk not leaving his face. “This will be like a side project,” he drawled. “To keep you on your feet. We can't let our best editor get rusty now, can we?” He smiled giddily as if he was doing her a favor.

Ayah scowled at him. She will not be working on her days off.

She opened her mouth to protest, but her eyes fell on Kamal's profile. He looked at her as if she were the solution to all his problems as if she were hanging the moon. A hesitant and hopeful smile slowly etched its way to his lips. “Really?” he asked as if a child re-checking with his parents that they were indeed heading to an amusement park.

It was disturbing.

Ayah gripped the hem of her vest, her teeth gritting painfully as she forced down the words that nearly spilled out in her frustration. She counted to ten, mourning her well-deserved vacation, her peaceful days spent rummaging through her library, rereading her favorite novels with a cup of hot chocolate and a delicious slice of cake.

She glanced at Kamal's face, his beaming smile slowly fading, fraying at the edges at her continued silence. His hopeful look turned pleading.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to help out her fellow editor in need. She was, after all, his senior.

She smiled. It felt more like a grimace. “Sure,” she said with false cheer. “It would be my pleasure.”

She didn't know who she was trying to fool. She would help him, but she would hate every moment of it.

Ayah angrily slammed the phone on the table. He wasn't answering. She huffed and rested her head on the back of her chair. She squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the headache skirting at the edges.

All this was starting to damper her mood.

She snapped up. No, she will not let this ruin her day. She glanced at the time. It was well into the night, an hour after she was supposed to be home.

She got up and grabbed her phone and purse. She would just go to him if he refused to answer her calls.

Ayah glanced at the enormous gates bordering Loaye's mansion. The author was quite known for his lavish spending, owning dozens of houses in different places. Always fenced and shut off from the public eye. He quite valued his privacy. Ayah didn't begrudge him that. Who would want to live in something other than luxury, well away from controlling superiors and annoying and frustrating clients?

She wouldn't mind.

She leaned on the gate, huffing. She had been knocking for a few minutes, but no one answered. Was he simply not home, or was he hiding? She bristled at the thought. She had already wasted lots of time just to get in contact with him. Today, she was meeting him. There was no getting away from her.

She strengthened her clothes and breathed deeply, steeling her resolve, mentally preparing herself for another bout of disappointment. She headed towards the side door and knocked. To her surprise, the gate clicked softly, opening slightly ajar. Peering through the crack wasn't a housekeeper or a security detail—it was the author himself. It was baffling how he refused to employ anyone to attend to the mansion. How was he keeping the pace clean?

Was it even clean? Ayah grimaced at the thought.

His thin face peered through the crack, and his silver eyebrows frowned in confusion. His eyes widened as if he saw the devil incarnate. She tried a disarming smile to get him to ease up. His eyes flitted back to peer inside, then back to her, and then hurriedly made to shut the door. She hastily grabbed the door, keeping the gate open but not applying more force to open it further. The last thing she wanted was to get arrested for forced entry. She smiled at him in an attempt to not appear threatening. The door was heavy, but she prided herself on the countless hours she spent in the gym to keep up shape.

"Mister Loaye, good evening," she greeted. "I'm your editor."

He narrowed his eyes, lips pulled taut in distrust. "No, you're not," he grumbled. "Who are you?"

"I'm your new editor," she amended.

"Where is Kamal?"

That traitor went home the second working hours were over, leaving her to deal with him.

"He's indisposed at the moment." Probably had his nose buried in a book with a hot chocolate cup cradled between his fingers, the traitor. "I was sent here in his stead."

"He would have notified me first."

Ayah fought off the annoyance from her face. "You weren't answering your phone," she said as calmly as she could. She probably failed, going by the wary look he kept throwing her.

"I'm not leaving till I talk to you," she said, slowly enunciating each word. "Can I get inside?" She glanced past him.

He considered her for a moment, then sighed heavily. He pushed the gate open, letting her through.

As rumored, the man was quite lavish in his spending. Flowers flanked the driveway to the mansion, their exquisite smell permeating the air. A dragon perched on a stone at the front of the main entrance, wings spread, preparing to leap. Water cascaded from its gaping mouth, a hint of red making it look like flames. Two more dragon statues guarded the entrance. Their wings were tucked to their sides, but their claws were drawn out, looking sharp, even made from stone.

If the outside of the mansion looked luxurious, the inside was another matter. She felt as if she had stepped into another world. Huge paintings adorned the walls, some depicting castles and cities, others scenes from battles and wars. Sculptures of mythical creatures were poised at each hallway intersection.

After many turns and spins, they arrived at what Ayah assumed to be the study room. A huge bookshelf adorned the wall. She, wishfully, thought of her vacation plans. Her eyes swept over some of the titles, wondering whether he wouldn't mind lending her a few of his books. They were destined to see each other a lot lately till he handed over his manuscript. She would rather spend her waiting time in the company of some books.

Later, she reminded herself, work now, fun later.

As she scanned the library, she noticed two things: There were only two main sections, history and mythology, and many of the books seemed to be in some foreign language.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Figures, she hummed. Loaye was well known for his historical fantasies. The latest one, the most famous of all his works, was set in the old world before recorded history, with dragons and griffins roaming the earth, and some other creatures Loaye invented himself, and where humans possessed supernatural powers capable of freezing the oceans and splitting the earth.

There was some talk about a TV show and a couple of movies, but with only two novels out and coupled with Loaye's terrible habit of writing a book in a five-year span, she doubted they would have enough material. They would have to improvise. She sent a silent prayer for the scriptwriters.

Loaye rummaged through the pile of papers on his desk, completely disregarding Ayah's roaming eyes. She looked around the room, observing. The room design was quite humble compared to the extravagance she saw earlier; the study room looked plain, though everything screamed high quality. Apart from the vast bookshelves and the desk right under the huge glass window, a lonely couch stood to the side, with a small table next to it. A blanket huddled half-hazardly at the arm of the sofa. But that wasn't what attracted Ayah's attention. It was the colossal painting resting on the wall behind it.

She stood for a long moment, silent as she studied the painting closely. A young man was standing atop a platform, his posture straight, shoulders drawn back, and head held high. His posture screamed power and commanded respect. His dark brown hair was floating in the wind, obscuring his eyes. He wore dark red and silver armor, his hands resting on the palm of his upturned sword at his feet. Behind him, a red dragon was stitched into a huge silver banner, snarling and drawing claws.

Several stairs below, a gathering was kneeling before him, wearing different armors, each with a floating banner preceding them.

A silver tiger on a black banner.

A green squid on a silver banner.

A silver eagle on a dark blue marine banner...

Ayah squinted her eyes. Something familiar was in that painting. She took a few steps forward, her eyes not leaving the painting. Silver tiger…Red dragon…Silver phoenix...

She frowned. Weren't these the symbols of the royal families in Loaye's story?

She glanced at the young man atop the platform and the silver banner displayed above all the others. The ruling kingdom.

She hummed, a smile slowly making its way to her lips. It was indeed a painting of his novel.

She had read the novels. The prose was flawless, the plot intricate, and the characters quite engaging. She liked them a lot. Seeing the painting with all the ruling families brought together, depicting what she thought was the aftermath of the battle of the seven armies, made her giddy with excitement.

She might be an editor, but she was a fan above all.

She looked at the young man—the first emperor, her mind supplied, the one who reunited the seven kingdoms under his rule. The story's protagonist was his descendant, struggling to contain the riots amongst his family and thwarting the other families' attempts to usurp power.

Ayah grinned. She couldn't wait for the drama's production. It was going to be phenomenal.

Now, all she needed to do was complete the manuscript for the third novel and get it ready for publication.

Ayah glanced at the author, who was still rummaging through the pile. What was taking him this long? Every now and then, he would glance at the watch on his wrist. His face would contort into a grimace for just a second before he would smooth it out and resume his search.

He gathered a stack of papers, arranged them, and then handed them to her. Tremors run through his fingers, making the papers shake slightly. She frowned.

"Here," he said, thrusting the papers towards her. "These are the first five chapters. I'll send you the others later."

Ayah quickly skimmed through them before fixing her gaze on the fidgeting author. "When?" she asked.

He ran his hand through his gray-dusted hair, making it more disheveled. He looked to the side, avoiding her gaze, and cleared his throat.

He paused. "Five years." His tone lifted at the end, making it sound like a question.

Ayah could feel her eyes bulging out. Five years? Was he insane? Four years had already passed since his last novel, and his final manuscript was due three months ago. He was not just behind schedule; he was way over it.

Ayah swallowed her retort and forced herself to stay calm. Instead, she tried to speak slowly and patiently. "Mister Loaye, I'm sure you already know, but the novel was scheduled to be published before the end of the year. Preferably, a few weeks from now."

He leaned on his desk, crossing his arms in front of him. "It's not done yet."

Ayah felt her brow twitch. She breathed slowly and deeply to calm herself. She was already feeling the pressure building at her temple, a painful headache she didn't need nor want.

He was given plenty of time to finish not just one novel- but a whole series.

What was he doing?

She went to the couch and sank down into it. Her hand shook as she set down her bag at her feet and pushed the strands of hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail back from her face.

She had to bargain.

"Is a month sufficient for you to finish it?"

Loaye's face screwed up in displeasure. "I told you it's not done yet. If you're that desperate, take those five chapters."

Desperate?

The imperious tone raised Ayah's hackles. It made her want to pummel something.

Desperate? How dare he, that…

She fisted her hands until the blunt nails dug into the skin of her palms. She was desperate not to bring the whole bookshelf down on his head.

"In five years, you'll have the whole book." He glanced at his watch, frowning.

"Two months."

"Five years."

"Three."

"Five."

"Five months?"

He glared at her. "Five years." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "Look−" He held his hands in a placating manner. "If I could, I would finish it before that. But I can't. Believe me."

"Why? What's happening?" She snapped to her feet, stalking her way towards him. "Are there any problems that you're facing? You know it's our job to ensure that everything goes smoothly. I'm sure we'll find a solution to whatever you've got yourself into."

He shook his head. A deep frown marred his face as he glanced again at his watch.

She squinted her eyes at him, scrutinizing him. "You're hiding something," she drawled. She glanced at his wrist, then fixed her eyes on his. "You've been checking your watch a lot. Are you expecting someone?"

He hesitated before answering. "It's none of your business." He grumbled.

"What−"

A shrilling sound cut her off. She winced, covering her ears with her hands. Loaye's eyes widened in panic. He stumbled to the grandfather clock nestled between two bookshelves, and with a click, the sound stopped.

Ayah blinked. There was still more than a quarter left for a full hour. Weren't these clocks programmed to ding each hour? And the sound− she had never heard a clock make such a shrilling sound. It sounded more like the alarm played to warn of a disaster coming.

"If you're done here, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave," he said hurriedly. He was fidgeting on his feet, nearly drilling a hole in the ground. His eyes kept glancing between his handwatch, the grandfather clock, and her.

She felt she wouldn't like whatever was happening—not at all, not with his suspicious behavior.

He closed the gates loudly the second she stepped outside. She glared at the closed gates and sighed. Taha was going to kill her.

She glanced at the papers peeking out from her bag. Well, she would go through them for the time being.

Ayah was on her way to her home, a box of her favorite chocolate cake in hand, when her phone rang.

She sighed. Who could be calling her at this time?

"Ayah! Where are you?" She winced at Kamal's frantic yell, shifting the phone away. What did this traitor want now?

"What?" she grumbled. She was just heading home. Her plans might have been ruined, but there was no better time to enjoy a delicious piece of cake than the present. A small treat to lift her mood.

"Are you near Mister Loaye's home?"

She frowned. "Why? What happened?"

"He just called. He said he was leaving and would contact us when he returned."

The calm that had settled over her evaporated, and she nearly threw the small bag containing her consolation cake to the ground. "Did he say where he was going? Or when he was coming back?" She put the small bag in her handbag and hailed a cab, holding her phone with her shoulder.

Was that why he seemed so anxious for her to leave earlier? She cursed under her breath. Today, she was supposed to head home and relax, enjoy her cake and a cup of steaming chocolate, reread her favorite book, and relax. Instead, here she was with a stack of papers left to edit, hailing cabs to catch runaway authors in the middle of the night.

Could this day get any worse?

She quickly relayed the address to the cab driver and cut Kamal's pathetic rant about his ruined career and how he was getting fired for this. "Listen, it's going to be fine." A part of her, buried deep in the recesses of her mind, wondered why she was trying to comfort him when he was the one who got her into this in the first place. "I'll reach him in a few. I'll stall him till you get there."

"Yeah, about that−"

She hung up and dialed the author's number.

As expected, he wasn't answering.

She gripped her phone tightly. What if he had already left?

She tumbled out as soon as the car stopped, nearly forgetting her bag. She looked up at the huge gate.

She had to act fast.

She looked at the carvings covering the gate, running her fingers over them.

Yes, her feet could fit.

Her lips twitched up into a wry smile. She never thought she would ever break into someone's house. When she first chose her line of work, she pictured being buried under mountains of books. A dream job for any rabid reader. She didn't factor in being arrested for break and entry into her plans. She hummed. This better be worth it. She glanced around to make sure she had no witnesses and climbed.

It was dark. No light emanated through the tall glass windows. She glanced at the window of the study room. Dark.

She gnawed her lower lip, brows furrowed in worry. She ran her hand over her face, shoulders sagging in defeat. She had hoped she wouldn't have to actually break into the mansion, but she had gotten this far. Knocking was not an option.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, straightened her clothes, and made her way around the house, trying to find an open window to get in. "I'm so getting arrested for this," she muttered.

"That rascal better give me a raise." She pictured Taha lazing around his house, unaware that one of the company's cash bringers was slipping through their fingers.

A narrow path led from the front of the mansion to the back, a faint light emanating from the end of the path. Ayah threaded her way through the darkness and towards the only lighting source.

She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the dim lighting. It was a garden. A vast garden, bigger than the one in front of the entrance.

A pond was at the center of the garden, with a little bridge passing over it and different kinds of flowers adorning its bed. A dragon statue was placed to the side, its mouth wide open as if ready to breathe fire, claws digging into stone.

It was beautiful.

How much did he pay for all this? He must be pretty loaded.

She approached the pond, her taut shoulders loosening at the sound of the trickling water. She kneeled on the ground, dipping her fingers into the water. A wan smile graced her lips. "Happy birthday," she whispered to herself.

She stood up and glanced at the open hallway leading inside the house. She straightened as she heard footsteps making their way towards the garden.

Loaye emerged dragging a suitcase, muttering under his breath. Noticing her presence, he halted, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He let go of his suitcase. They both flinched as it thudded loudly against the marble floor.

He really was leaving. It seemed she had caught him at the nick of time.

The break of eye contact brought him back from his state of shock. He stumbled towards her, trembling.

"What− what are you doing here?" He nearly tripled in his haste, barely righting himself on one of the small statues littering the garden.

She fidgeted on her feet. Now that she was here, she didn't know what to say.

Kamal was sure taking his sweet time, she bristled.

"Good evening…again." She waved awkwardly, then clutched at the straps of her bag tightly.

Loaye seemed frantic, clutching his hair and tugging it painfully. "You can't be here," he said, expression haunted as his eyes roamed around the garden. "You have to leave."

He grabbed her shoulder and started dragging her toward the hallway. "You have to leave now," he hissed, his eyes not ceasing their frantic searching.

"What? Wait!" Ayah knocked his hand away and stood firmly. "I'm here to talk to you. I need−"

"There's no time to talk!" He cut her off, his frantic eyes boring into hers. "You have to leave now!" he repeated.

What was wrong with him? Ayah glanced at his trembling fingers as he tried, again, to push her inside the house. He looked afraid. Terrified. She glanced back at the garden. What was hidden here that he was so desperate to not let her see?

An explosion of light flooded the garden. Blindsided, Ayah closed her eyes tightly. She felt Loaye's fingers turn numb on her arm before they fell away.

"No," he whispered, voice creaking.

Ayah peered her eyes open.

In the garden, right over the pond, a huge circle of light floated, its white surface rippling like water.

Loaye turned to her, face twisted. "It's time."

Time for what? She wanted to ask.

He ran up to his suitcase and paused. "Just…go back home and forget this ever happened," he said, his back to her. But she could see his whitening fist as it tightened over his luggage.

When he received no answer, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He glanced at her, his lips pursed into a thin line before he marched toward the circle.

He stepped into the circle and vanished.

Ayah startled.

What was she supposed to do? This was way beyond her pay grade. Should she follow him? Should she wait for Karim? But as the circle crackled, its light dimming, she frantically rushed forward into the circle of light.