I'd seen her outside the library, laughing with people in the courtyard, surrounded by friends who always seemed to orbit her like planets around a sun.
She wasn't the kind of person who had to try to be noticed.
If she dropped a book, three people would scramble to pick it up.
If she told a joke, the whole circle would laugh, even if it wasn't funny.
She was that girl.
The kind who was supposed to sit in cafes with the rest of them, not here with me.
So why me?
I caught myself staring at her once, pencil still in hand, before she tilted her head.
"What?" she asked.
I looked back down at the sketchbook. "Nothing."
She smirked like she didn't believe me.
Later, when the table between us was cluttered with pencils and notebooks, I asked it out loud.
"Why do you keep coming here?"
Reya blinked. "Here?"
"To sit with me."
She tilted her head again — the same little motion she made when she was thinking, not smiling, not laughing, just… thinking.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.
The question landed heavier than I expected.
"No," I muttered.
Her smirk returned, softer this time. "Then I won't."
She glanced at my sketchbook, then back at me.
"You don't talk like everyone else," she said finally. "You don't… try. You just draw. And that's kind of nice."
Her voice dipped, almost thoughtful.
"I have friends," she said, "but sometimes it feels like they only know pieces of me. The loud parts."
Her fingers tapped the table, light and absent.
"You don't care about that. You just keep drawing your monsters."
"You know," she added, "you draw a lot of monsters."
I didn't look up from shading a jagged claw. "Yeah."
"Like… they're amazing, don't get me wrong," she added quickly, flipping a page. "But don't you ever get bored?"
"No."
She smirked. "You didn't even think about that."
"I don't get bored drawing them," I muttered.
Reya tapped a page, finger landing on a hollow-eyed beast crouched in black ink.
"They're all teeth and shadows," she said, "but none of them… live anywhere. It's like you're drawing animals without a forest."
I blinked. "What?"
She leaned closer, her voice dropping like she was sharing a secret.
"What if you made a world for them? Not just blank space. A place — with cities, and stories, and people to fight them."
She grinned. "Lore. You know, the good stuff."
I stared at her, pencil still in hand.
The word lore sounded silly coming from her, but the idea didn't.
That night, her words sat in my head like a hook I couldn't pull out.
A world.
I stared at the blank page and, for the first time, didn't start with a monster.
A jagged coastline came first.
Then a river, splitting through the page like a vein.
Mountains that cut too sharp, forests that sprawled too dark.
I drew ruins crouched against cliffs, towers that clawed at the clouds, banners fraying in wind.
At the top, I wrote a name without thinking:
ECARIA.
The next day, Reya leaned over the table and froze when she saw the map.
Her amber eyes brightened. "What's this?"
"A… map," I muttered.
She grinned wider. "A map of their world?"
I didn't answer, but the corner of her mouth lifted like I had.
That night, the pencil moved again.
Not places now.
A person.
She started as a hooded silhouette standing on a cliff I'd drawn the night before, cloak trailing behind her.
Then the lines sharpened.
Her hair — blonde‑white, spilling from her hood, strands catching imaginary light.
Her eyes — crimson, fierce, with the faintest gold glow like they could burn through the page.
Her stance — unshakable, sword resting on her hip like it belonged there, cloak pulled tight by wind I couldn't feel.
She was bold. Striking.
The kind of person everyone turned to when things went wrong.
The kind of person I wasn't.
I wrote her name at the top of the page, pressing harder than I needed to:
AURELIA.
Reya saw her the next day.
She stared at the page for a long time.
"She's… wow."
Her voice softened, like she didn't want to break the page by talking too loud.
"She's beautiful."
I hesitated, then said, "She's the main character."
Reya looked at me like she was seeing something new.
"You made her the main character?"
"She's supposed to be…" I searched for the words. "…everything I'm not."
Reya tilted her head, waiting.
"She's brave. Loud. The kind of person people notice when she walks into a room."
Heat crept up my neck but I kept talking.
"She's someone who… saves people."
The words left faster, sharper — excitement in my voice before I could stop it.
Reya noticed.
Her smile softened. "You really like her," she said — not teasing, just glad to see me care about something.
A few days later, Reya tapped Aurelia's page.
"She can't do everything alone."
I blinked. "What?"
"Aurelia," Reya said, "she's fierce. But she needs someone softer. Someone to balance her out."
She rummaged in her bag and slid a notebook page across the table.
"I made one."
The drawing was a disaster.
A girl with a circle head, stick arms, and a staff that looked like a broken broom.
"She's a healer," Reya announced. "Aurelia needs one."
I stared. "This is… awful."
Reya laughed so hard she nearly dropped her pen.
"You're supposed to fix her," she said through her laughter.
That night, I did.
The stick‑figure became a girl — shorter than Aurelia, with chin‑length blonde hair that curled at the ends, green eyes behind round glasses, and a lilac sash crossing a healer's robe.
Her smile was warm.
The kind that made you feel like you weren't broken, even when you were.
I wrote the name carefully at the top of the page:
Seren.
The next day, Reya's eyes went wide.
"She looks like she could fix anything," she whispered.
I didn't tell her I'd drawn Seren's hands more carefully than anything else — not strong like Aurelia's, but gentle, precise.
That evening, Maria noticed the change.
"You've been drawing more than usual," she said from the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a towel.
"I always draw," I replied.
She smiled faintly. "But not just monsters anymore, huh?"
I froze.
Maria walked closer, eyes catching the open sketchbook on my desk.
Her gaze softened. "Can I see?"
I hesitated, then turned the pages for her.
She saw Aurelia first.
"She's beautiful," Maria murmured. "Who is she?"
"The main character," I said. "Her name's Aurelia. She's… everything I'm not."
Maria raised an eyebrow, teasing gently. "The opposite of you?"
"She's brave. Loud. The kind of person who makes people feel safe."
Maria reached out, brushing a corner of the page with her fingertips. "She's beautiful. And you made her."
I turned the page again — to Seren.
Maria's smile grew warmer. "And who's this?"
"Aurelia's friend. Her healer."
Maria tilted her head, noticing the softness in Seren's smile. "She looks kind."
"She is," I said, quieter.
Maria looked up. "Did someone help you come up with her?"
"My friend," I admitted. "Her name's Reya."
Maria smiled, repeating the name softly like she was filing it away. "Reya. That's lovely."
Over the next few nights, Maria would pause by my door, catching glimpses of new pages — flags, ruins, names scrawled in careful lettering.
"What's this city?" she asked once, pointing to a sprawling walled sketch.
"Seriglia," I said.
"The capital?"
"Of the Rowen Kingdom," I replied.
She smiled, tasting the word like it belonged in her mouth. "Seriglia. That's beautiful."
I hesitated, then added, "Magic works differently there too."
Maria raised her brows. "Oh?"
"It's not mana. Or spells. It's… emotions," I explained, a little awkwardly. "The stronger you feel something, the more powerful the magic."
Maria's eyes softened, like the thought meant more to her than she'd say. "That's… beautiful. Hard, but beautiful."
The sketches piled up fast after that.
Aurelia — the fearless sword girl who walked into every fight first.
Seren — the healer who made sure she could.
And page by page, Ecaria grew around them.
Ruined temples, towering cities, forests crawling with beasts — a whole world filling in the blanks.
One afternoon, Reya nudged my arm.
"You should turn this into a webcomic."
I shook my head. "No."
"Yes."
"No one's gonna read it."
"Then they're wrong." Her grin widened. "Doesn't mean you shouldn't make it."
That weekend, I scanned the first pages.
The panels were rough, the dialogue clumsy.
But for the first time, it felt like the thing in my head was spilling onto paper.
Reya hovered beside me until I hit "publish."
The first week, barely anyone saw it.
Four views.
No comments.
The second week, nothing changed.
I stared at the stats like they might wake up if I glared hard enough.
Reya caught me scowling.
"Hey," she said, tapping the edge of my sketchbook. "It's good. You know it. I know it. The rest of the world will figure it out."
That night, I sat at my desk.
Aurelia stared back at me from the page — fierce, striking, everything I wasn't.
Seren smiled beside her — soft, patient, exactly what Aurelia needed.
And around them, a whole world waited.
I picked up my pencil and kept drawing.
Because even if no one else saw Ecaria yet — I did.
Chapter 4 End