Indira stood in front of her first Story House, feeling shocked and honored. The sprawling gray house looked nearly the same. Three levels high, a pair of balconies, storm-gray bricks. The only notable difference now was the thousands of little strings attached to the roof. Indira had started counting them and quickly given up. David stood beside her.

“I told you the readers would come. Just look at all of them!”

There were a few golden threads. Indira knew what that meant—for those readers, the story had become one of their favorites. A treasure they’d keep with them their entire lives. Other colors—like silver and green and cerulean—coordinated to other emotions. Maybe it was the first book a reader had picked up in a long time, or the funniest book they’d read that year.

The fact that there were any threads at all warmed Indira’s heart.

“It’s their story now,” she whispered. “Come on. Time to get to work on the sequel.”

When she’d left, her first Story House had been on the very edge of a new neighborhood. It had seemed a little lonely. Now it felt like it was the middle of a busy town center. There were coffee shops built into the lower floors of certain buildings and even a market square.

Indira knew these were good signs. Healthy stories and healthy characters made up a healthy neighborhood. All the new readers would keep the place blossoming with life.

She whispered goodbye and started down the nearest hill. A new neighborhood had sprouted there on the edge of the constantly growing township. There were buildings of all shapes and sizes, all in different stages. Indira and David made their way through crowds of characters, many taking breaks between scenes, and came to a stop before a rose-red home that looked more like a shed than a house at the moment. It had a gleaming black door that shivered with light depending on where they looked. An unfinished porch wrapped around the front like the beginning of a dragon’s tail. Indira’s eyes settled on Phoenix.

Her friend sat cross-legged between their house and the neighbors’, quietly studying the Author’s directions for the first scene. His first scene. Indira crossed the square and stood at his shoulder.

“Nervous?” she asked.

He looked up at her. “Weren’t you?”

“She kept going to use the bathroom,” David remembered. “Classic delay tactic.”

There was a little commotion as someone pushed through the crowd. Indira recognized the dark sunglasses, but Maxi had set aside the official Editors’ attire for a more fashionable vest today.

“Maxi?” Phoenix asked. “I thought you had to go to headquarters or whatever.”

“And miss your first scene?” Maxi smiled. “As if! We started this whole thing together. I was here for Indira’s first scene. I wanted to be here for yours. What’s the point of having best friends if we don’t celebrate all the little things? Now get in there and don’t mess it up. I brought popcorn!”

She waved a bucket that Indira hadn’t noticed until that moment. Something about this felt right. Phoenix stood. He’d traded the wizarding robes for a pair of jeans. Indira watched as he brushed dirt off them before striding to the front door of their Story House. He looked back with the same nervous grin he’d had that first day they met. There was still a taste of mystery in that smile. Indira couldn’t wait to see what was waiting for them.

As he gripped the doorknob, the entrance brightened. From black to fire bright in less than a breath. Phoenix did not take his hand away. He opened the door, drinking in the scene that was waiting for him. Indira watched with a mixture of a hundred feelings that she couldn’t quite name. He took the first step inside and Maxi let out a little whoop.

Any guesses at what happened next, my dear reader?

Let me spoil it for you.

The Story House came to life.