As promised, Ryuji shows up on my doorstep on Friday evening, at exactly four o’clock, ready to walk me over to the library in Inkdrink Square.

When he told me to send him my address so he could accompany me there, I told him I could get there on my own. After all, I like to visit the library and the little café next to it as often as I can, which is at least three times a month.

Still, he insisted, so I relented. At least this way I wouldn’t feel awkward showing up alone. I can use Ryuji as a shield from and the other members of the group. I’m sure they’re all super talented writers with connections and years of experience under their belts. I almost fall on my face going down the stairs at the thought of maybe some of them being authors and storyweavers. What if he knows someone famous, like Catherine Briarheart?

“You alright?” Ryuji asks as I catch myself before spilling my limbs across the sidewalk.

“Yup, totally fine!” I reply, pasting on smile I hope covers my nervousness.

He returns mine with his own. “Great! Let’s get going.”

Ryuji sets off at a brisk walk that would have Elsha jogging. It’s a good thing I have long legs and can match his stride. He walks with his hands in his pockets, completely unbothered by the thought that he could possibly be leaving his companion behind. A part of me wants to slow and see if he would.

“This your first time going to a writer’s group?” he asks, stretching his wings out behind him before tucking them close.

I give a nervous laugh. “How’d you guess?”

He glances down at my hands. “You’re not bringing anything.”

I almost stumble to a stop but keep going so I don’t trip and fall on my face. “Was I supposed to?”

Waving a hand, Ryuji slows his pace a fraction. “Nah. Don’t sweat it. Miss Cassandra will tell you everything you need to know when we get there.”

Throughout the rest of the trip, I try to figure out what kind of person Miss Cassandra must be. In my mind, I imagine a lithe, beautiful elf woman with flowing, metallic-gold hair and piercing green eyes. She’s a force to be reckoned with, wielding storyweaving magic like a master.

The streets are crowded with pedestrians on their way home or off to hang out with friends after work and school. The sheer amount of people will always be overwhelming, no matter how long I live in the city. I watch them as they walk by to distract my mind from impending doom. Fairies, kistune, werewolves, mermaids, icarus, wizards, sprites, and sphynxes make up the bulk of the crowd.

“Something wrong?” Ryuji asks, breaking my concentration.

Just like that, the boy is nowhere to be seen. Giving Ryuji a tight-lipped smile, I shake my head slowly. “Nope, just people-watching.”

“Ah. A wonderful pastime.”

“Indeed.” Something like a pearl-white fish swims by—a muse. I refuse to follow it with my eyes and feel that old longing come back. It’s the last thing I need right now.

When we enter Inkdrink Square, my anxiety has reached the level where I feel like sprinting all the way home. My legs shake as we pass by the central fountain, a young woman sitting on nothing with knees crossed, bare marble feet connected to curling supports. A book rests in one hand, the other wielding a pen like a weapon.

The sight of the fountain lends me a small amount of strength. This marble girl, with her fierce expression and her feather pen have lent me inspiration and the drive to keep going time and again. I’ll do it for you, fountain girl, I think, then almost snort aloud at my own ridiculous thought.

The library is just across the street, a colossal building four stories high with gilded windows and a turret where an observatory is tucked away in the top of the tower. The telescope sticks out of the turret roof almost like chimney. Doors carved from a beautiful dark mahogany protect the inside from the elements, swirling words in a dead language covering most of their surfaces.

Ryuji reaches the doors first and opens one for me. I scurry inside, squeaking out my thanks, and pause a moment in the foyer to breathe in the scent of thousands of books. The foyer is formed like a circle, with open archways leading further inside. The walls are a calming, brown-paneled wood, with circular check-out desks giving the place symmetry. A few display stands dot the open floor, with books resting on metal easels, tempting passersby with their bright covers and alluring scent.

I almost wander off toward the stairs and the second floor, where all of the young adult novels are housed, but Ryuji grabs my sleeve and steers me to the left. He leads me away from the books toward the back rooms where the library hosts events like their monthly book club.

He pushes through a door carved with flying pages and I peer inside before stepping across the threshold.

Five people occupy the space beyond, each sitting on an overstuffed chair arranged in a circle around a small coffee table, on which rests steaming cups of tea and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. A fireplace on the left side of the room flickers with enchanted purple flames, giving the room a cozy feel. Sunlight slants through the sheer curtains that hang over two large windows opposite the door. It’s the perfect atmosphere for writing.

Ryuji enters, and I inch behind, not sure what to do with myself. He takes a seat next to a young man wearing a baggy sleeveless top and jacket, a gray slouchy beanie covering his head. Tattoos cover the backs of his hands and peek through the neckline of his shirt. When he turns to look at Ryuji, I can’t help but try to count the number of piercings in his ear.

On the tattoo-guy’s left side sits a fairy dressed in what looks like designer clothes, her long, white hair familiar. Upon further inspection, I realize—she’s the fairy I saw on the train the same day I met Ryuji. She looks up at me and gives me a tiny wave. I wave back.

Beside the fairy is a tall woman with curly, turquoise hair and smooth dark skin. While she’s built solid, it’s in a way that’s aesthetically pleasing, and her clothes look tailor-made to accentuate all the right places. She sees me and beckons.

“Welcome!” she calls in a voice that could enchant the dead. In that moment, I know instantly that this is the Miss Cassandra Ryuji was talking about. “Are you the new member Ryuji spoke of?”

Feeling awkward, I shuffle further into the room and take the only unoccupied seat, which is in between Ryuji and an elf girl wearing a spiked collar and black lipstick. I glance past her to the last member. He’s a regular human, dressed in a plain green shirt and jeans. With his straight brown hair and plain face, he seems the most normal out of all of us and instantly makes me feel ten times better.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” the woman prompts, sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Oh, um…” I squirm in my seat, keeping my gaze locked on the floor. “Hi. I’m Keelin.”

The woman places an elegant hand on her chest. “It’s nice to meet you, Keelin! I’m Miss Cassandra, and I run the writer’s group. I’m actually a member of the Scrivener’s Guild, and I like to help other hopefuls with their dreams of one day entering themselves. However, you don’t have to be trying to get in to be a member.” She gestures to the girl with the spiked collar. “Minnie here writes prose as a hobby, so she’s not aiming to make it into the guild.”

I look at Minnie, surprised. She struck me more as someone who would write angsty dystopian, not prose. Minnie gives me a smile that completely brightens her appearance, turning her from angry to harmless in barely a second.

“And that’s another thing,” Miss Cassandra continues, “We are all very diverse in our writing, so please don’t feel like you have to write a certain thing to be part of the group. While I specialize in nonfiction, Anton over here likes to write Gothic horror as well as poetry.” Here she pauses and gestures to tattoo-man.

That makes more sense.

Miss Cassandra introduces the rest of the group; Sunny, the unassuming teenager, writes science fiction, while Snowdrop, the fairy from the train, writes playscripts. What I’m surprised to learn is that Ryuji writes fantasy, like I do. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to write, but I didn’t think it’d be the same as me. I narrow my eyes at him. All these coincidences are becoming suspicious.

The group starts in with reading their writings aloud, and I sit and listen, awed and impressed by their skills. Sunny’s science fiction is a little too odd for my taste, but I must admit that his writing is amazing. Minnie’s prose flows off the page like magic, and her muse, shaped like a tiny woman made of snowflakes, flows around the room, painting vivid images of her writing across the walls.

Anton reads aloud a poem that would make the father of Gothic fiction, Erasmus Arctus Pullman, proud. His gentle baritone voice smooths the sharp edges of his writing and tugs at my imagination, sparking images of ancient mansions and half-crazed nobles in my mind.

When Snowdrop reads from her playscript, the whole room erupts in laughter. I can’t help but laugh along, although it’s obvious she’s halfway through the play and some of the jokes don’t make sense out of context.

Ryu goes last, and though I’m completely lost with what in the world is going on in the story, I can’t help but be sucked into his world of samurai fighting against ancient monsters threatening to devour the earth. I can clearly see his descriptions in my mind, and a tingle runs down my spine.

All of them…they’re so good. Each one with skills I could never match. How in the world am I supposed to fit in with this group?

I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy toward their skills, as well as the easy comradery between them. I’m the outsider here. I stare at the floor as they discuss Ryuji’s writing, telling him where he can strengthen it and fix it. They laugh and joke, and I stay silent, unable to participate.

Ryuji knocks his sneaker against mine and I look up to see him smiling at me. “What did you think?”

“Huh?”

“About the story? I know you’re totally lost, but from what you’ve heard, is it good?” He stares at me, waiting for my opinion, like it matters.

I don’t know what to say. “Uh…yeah. It’s good. I liked it. At least, from what I heard. I think your main character, Kou, is pretty cool. He seems the complete opposite of you, though.”

The others laugh while Ryuji frowns. “Was that supposed to be an insult?”

I shrug. “Depends on how you take it.”

He smiles. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

I can’t help but smile back.

This atmosphere…it’s nice. It’s nice sitting with others who laugh easily without hidden meanings in their words and thriving on honesty and companionship. But I’m not sure if I can fit in. If they’ll accept me. A part of me itches to keep writing, but at the same time, I’m terrified. I’m terrified to pick up that pen. To put words to paper and create a world that only I can create.

Before, the idea was unthinkable. But now?

Now, I think…I think I might be willing to try in the future.