Chapter 1
CHAPTER-1
The sun is settling into its most perfect shade of gold. The golden hour is here, and I am submerged, bathed in its warm light. Around me, the last chirps of birds linger before they return home. The sound of flowing water creates a perfect rhythm. Sometimes, I wonder if nature has its own way of speaking-and I understand it simply by feeling it.
Here I am, part of it, trying to take in as much as I can. This is my sanctuary. This is the place where I feel alive.
I am sitting under a tree, the golden light reaching me as it filters through the canopy, falling across my eyes, my hair, my laptop – and suddenly, I am pulled back into the present.
It is always my priority not to get drawn into these moments and to focus on the work I came here to do – finishing my novel.
As the realisation hit, I began to work. A few moments passed, and suddenly a notification popped up on the left side of my laptop screen. It was from my publisher, who wanted to see the illustrations for the novel. That’s when I realised I was in trouble- I didn’t have any illustrations ready, and the deadline was next month.
But, instead of hiding the truth from him, I replied, ‘‘The illustrations haven’t been started yet. Jessica is currently tied up with an urgent project, and I haven’t contacted any other artist.’’
I didn’t hide anything from my him. He’s always been supportive-he’s been publishing my books since the beginning. That is, from the start of my career. He is not only my publisher but also a friend who always helps me out of the trouble- like the one I’m currently in. My friend can’t illustrate my current novel, and I didn’t even think about it all this time.
While I was thinking about a solution to this problem, another notification popped up.
It was a reply from my publisher who said, ''you should have told me earlier if Jessica had other plans. We could have figured out something by now. My mistake- I thought you’d gained some professionalism by now and would have contacted another artist if you already knew about Jessica’s situation. But it seems you haven’t changed a bit since then.’’
I thought James’s reply would include a list of artists- but it seems he hasn’t either. He gave me a long speech, scolding me for not getting the work done.
I immediately typed, ''It would be a much better if you could send me a list of artists-and maybe do something about the deadline.’’
Just now, I was thinking about how helpful he has been all the time I was in trouble. Ironically, he has also proved that he is James after all.
James replied, '' Give me a couple of hours, duchess. I’ll send you a list worth your standards.’’
Oh my god I can’t get used to this-nickname and the formal language he’s using, inspired by fantasy novel writing. Like ’duchess’– seriously, James.
Controlling myself from giving a perfectly sarcastic reply to his words, I decided to focus on finding an illustrator as soon as possible. So, I just texted him, ''Okay.’’
It was late evening when I got home and received the list of artists. I was eating dinner at the time, scrolling through names and visiting their profiles, trying to find something that felt right.
But no one caught my eye in a way that made me feel, even at a glance, that this was the one I was looking for. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anyone like that—or more specifically, anyone with the skill I was looking for.
Still, this wasn’t the time to be picky.
Anyway, I picked around ten artists who had experience illustrating historical fantasy scenes. I emailed them about the urgent need for an illustrator and the deadline, which James said could not be pushed any further. I knew the timeline would make anyone hesitate—creating eight detailed illustrations with depth and feeling, especially in such a short time, wasn’t something everyone would agree to.
And then… I waited.
