The melody of wind chimes and the scent of the ocean.

Weird.

How pissed is mom gonna be if I left my candles lit all night? Groggy from sleep, Ennette sat up and patted around for her phone. Also, is that my alarm? Why is it going off on a Saturday?

But as her vision cleared, she saw there were no candles. Nor was her phone anywhere to be found.

Instead of in her bedroom, she was on the floor of a massive room with brilliantly ultramarine walls. Antique astrological charts and equipment surrounded her, and piles of books lay strewn about the room.

“Ennette Williams?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

What the hell am I doing here? Ennette wondered, ignoring the strange voice. Where is here?

Last she remembered, she had just finished the final chapter of her favorite web novel and was taking out her dissatisfaction with the ending by poking the handmade dolls of her least favorite characters full of needles. Had she fallen asleep?

“Miss Ennette, if you please,” the voice came again.

A beautiful woman sat at a mahogany desk, staring at her with a pair of glowing blue eyes. Her skin was a deep, shimmering gold, and blonde hair flowed down her back like a waterfall.

Ennette hoped she was talking to someone else, but since there was no one else in the room, she pointed to herself and asked, “Me?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You have a wish, don’t you?” the otherworldly woman asked, looking back down at her desk. She directed a floating quill pen with her finger. “So let’s get on with it, then.”

“A wish?” Ennette asked, confused.

“A wish,” the woman said firmly, speaking quickly and with purpose. “I’m a busy woman, so listen well: the Universe screwed up. It owes you something. Don’t ask why—it doesn’t like to admit it—just accept and make your wish.”

At first, the outlandish words of the woman made Ennette’s head spin, but the mention of the Universe jogged her memory.

“Oh, yeah! This is a dream for sure,” she said. “You’re the Starlight Secretary from the The Lady of the Golden Star! I knew I shouldn’t have been reading so late!”

The woman raised a perfectly-shaped brow. “Sure. If you want.”

“I mean, what else could it be?” Ennette said, looking around. “So, then, this must be the Hall of Constellations. Awesome.”

Satisfied, Ennette walked around, poking at the unusual gizmos that lay haphazardly between the towers of books and pieces of expensive-looking furniture. Everything in the room looked old but well cared for; there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be seen.

“The Lady of the Golden Star, huh?” Ennette murmured as she examined the books on a nearby table. “That’s a sure sign you’ve wasted too many brain cells, Enna.”

The series wasn’t meant to be high literature; it certainly wasn’t the type of novel meant for high-brow academics. Written to satisfy teen girls who dreamed of sparkly mythological creatures masquerading as handsome, brooding young men and liked “strong” female protagonists, it didn’t have much substance to it.

It was like a bag of potato chips; it was comforting, and easy to read. At a couple hundred chapters long, it took a bit to get through, but it wasn’t unique. There were fifty or so other stories like it listed in Ennette’s bookmarks—though she would never fess up to enjoying such a story, let alone admit she’d been thinking so hard about it.

But that ending though! she grumbled internally. And the plot armor!

She pitied the unfortunate life of the doll-like protagonist, Laria Eldrannan, but if the world worked by the rules it said it did, she should have died at least a hundred times throughout the course of the story. Laria went through harrowing experiences to become a powerful magus. She defeated the Darklands and the Dark Magician Maziar who led their forces, and saved the country—but there were multiple times that Maziar could have killed her with a flick of her wrist and simply chose not to.

Ennette had even stronger opinions about how the last fight went down, and the “dreamy” life Laria was destined to lead with her “beloved” Prince Rhaltz.

Maybe that’s why I’m really dreaming about it, she thought.

As a villain, Maziar Kreeth was pretty good until the end. Full of quiet wrath, he was a brilliant caster of powerful chaos magic. He was ruthless and cruel, and Ennette had waited until the final battle to find out what his motivations were—only for Laria to kill him without much effort and before getting the answers she had expected.

The male lead was just as bad. The story told her Laria was supposed to be head over heels for the man, but the lack of real chemistry suggested otherwise. It didn’t matter how cheesy it got—Ennette was entirely unconvinced of any true affection between the two.

Ennette picked up one of the books she was looking at and ran her hand over the cover. It had a beautiful, embossed leather cover with a golden gem set in its center, gleaming as if lit from within.

“Oh?” she murmured, flipping through it. “Isn’t this it!? Or a part of it, at least.”

“Sorry?”

“The Lady of the Golden Star!”

The secretary was unimpressed. “Sorry?”

“It’s the story I know you from!”

“Pardon? Wait. No. I don’t care,” The Starlight Secretary said with furrowed brows. “Make your wish, Miss Williams, if you please.”

Ennette frowned. Of all the characters that could appear in my dreams, isn’t it strange that it’s the Starlight Secretary? What does she want me for?

The Starlight Secretary was a minor character who only appeared at the beginning of Laria’s story. She was the one who bestowed upon her the favor of the Universe so that she could fulfill her destiny.

Ah! Grinning, Ennette crossed her arms. So that’s how it is, is it?

“Do I only get one wish?” Ennette asked, perfectly willing to play along with the dream’s plot. “Can I wish for more wishes and stuff like that?”

“No,” said the woman, shaking her head with pursed lips. “You get one wish. One wish in exchange for one correction—no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“‘Correction?’”

“The Universe needs to correct the mistake it made so that it doesn't break timelines and end up destroying itself for pointless existences,” she said.

“What does that have to do with me?” Ennette asked. “Or are we talking about Laria?”

“Laria?”

“The one you gave powers to before!” Ennette said, holding up the book in her hands. “Oh, but this isn’t the right book in the series. This is the book after the author just fully gave up and decided to word-vomit on the page. I mean listen to this crap:

“‘With her heaving bosom straining the neckline of her glittery white wedding dress, Laria, the world’s greatest sorceress, leaned into the muscled chest of her true love, Prince Rhaltz. Batting her eyelashes up into his handsome face, she keened, 'My only regret is the journey taken to get to our happy ending!’ He leaned down and pressed his lips to her luscious mouth and took what was his.’

“But wait, it gets worse!” Ennette chuckled. The secretary looked concerned as Ennette fell into a fit of giggles. Puffing up her chest, she acted out the next line.

“‘As Laria came up gasping for air, she whispered alluringly in Rhaltz’s ear, ‘Let me ride your pony.’

“Seriously! How did this end up as such a dumpster fire!” she exclaimed, showing the Starlight Secretary the text.

The secretary sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about or who Laria is—nor do I care. I’m merely a liaison sent to grant your wish and settle the paperwork.”

“Oh,” Ennette said to herself. Deflated, she put the book down on the secretary’s desk. “Of course, school has to mess with my dreams, now, too. I promise I’ll study for the mock exams, okay, brain?”

“Excuse me?”

“How can you not know Laria, though?”

“Am I supposed to remember every puny creature that comes before me, let alone that the Universe is in charge of?”

“I guess not,” Ennette said, disappointed that the term “puny creature” was being applied to her favorite character. “So I can wish for anything, just once?”

“As long as it’s in accordance with the correction,” she said.

“Fine. Any suggestions?”

The woman sighed, and her gorgeous cobalt dress glittered as the constellations on her dress shifted.

“Traditionally, wealth, power, and true love are popular. Others include beauty, an easy life, freedom, or owning small countries. Some wish for the dead to come back to life or wish entire worlds into existence,” she said, and raised a single finger. “But you only get one wish. Wishing a world into existence does not mean you get to live in that world. Wishing the dead back to life doesn’t mean you ever get to see them again.”

“Well, that’s complicated,” Ennette said. “Wait, how many mistakes does the Universe make?”

“That's not important.”

“One wish, huh,” Ennette mumbled, rubbing her chin.

If Laria had been able to make her own choices in the book, maybe she would have wished for true love; she was the main character of a romance novel, after all.

But what about Ennette? Did she want to be in a romance novel?

It could be fun, she thought, though she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of the Universe picking her partner.

Wealth and power… She could ask to be the daughter of a CEO or something. A princess even, if she wanted the extra responsibility.

What if she asked for a pet dragon or something that would attract wealth and power? But what good would that be if she couldn’t control it, or it wasn’t able to survive on Earth?

That logic limited things. To be safe, whatever she asked for needed to be tied to herself.

“What’s the scope of the wish?” Ennette asked. “I mean… if people are asking for these big things like creating worlds and stuff, what happens if I wish for something small? Does the universe balance it out?”

“Clever girl,” the Starlight Secretary said, narrowing her eyes. “The easy answer is ‘yes.’ But small things are not always small, and big things are not always big.”

“Is there a difference between material things and immaterial things?”

The woman didn’t answer, but an amused smile spread across her ruby-red lips.

So wishing for love has the same value as wealth or power because material things are easier to provide. More importantly, Ennette realized, the value of the wish should match the value of the correction.

In that case, it was better to wish for something without significant upfront value, but could make a bigger difference depending on the choices she made.

“I want to go on a grand adventure!” she then declared.

“An… adventure?”

“Right!” Ennette said. “I want to have my own story and experiences, like Laria in The Lady of the Golden Star, where I’d get to do all sorts of neat things, meet amazing people, and accomplish great things!”

The Starlight Secretary blinked in confusion. “You can wish for anything, and your wish of the Universe is to ‘go on an adventure?’”

“Who wouldn’t want to? I could escape homework and tests and chores, and live life the way I want to live it!”

“I see.” The woman considered for a moment, then scrawled something across the paper in front of her before stamping it official. “Then let it be done.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to have to save the world or anything; I just want the adventure part…” Paying only half attention, Ennette was still rambling about the specifications of the adventure she’d wished for.

“You don’t get to choose your own adventure,” the Starlight Secretary reminded her with a flippant, matter-of-fact tone—and the moment she did, Ennette knew she’d made a terrible mistake. “The wish is heard. The deed is done. When you next wake, your wish will be yours.”

“Um… wait, I—”

“Good luck, Miss Ennette.”

A swirl of colorful light appeared at Ennette’s feet, and a blast of wind swallowed the air around her and sent her flying. Screaming, she put her arms in front of her face as the wind took her up through the glass roof of the room and sent her into the sky. Light became darkness as she flew into space, and the stars enveloped her.

* * *

“What did you do?” The Starlight Secretary asked after Ennette had been sent off.

From behind one of the many towers of books in the room, they sat up with a yawn. They stood and brushed off their robes. “Whatever do you mean?” they asked.

She glared at them as they walked over, and pointed to the book Ennette had left on her desk. “This.”

“Oh. That,” they said. “I’m not finished with that yet.”

They picked up the book and turned to the last page. After plucking the secretary’s quill from the air, they gave a crooked grin and scrawled:

“Little did our wishers know, the Universe was watching—and every now and again, when it has the inclination, the Universe listens.”

* * *

And the next time Ennette opened her eyes, she was in the middle of a magic circle of geometric designs and swirling runes, sitting face-to-face with a stunned-looking young man who took one glance at her before bursting into laughter.

Ennette blinked at the man, then exclaimed, “What the f—!”