writer’s block. that was the only word to describe what rowan vale was going through.

an aspiring poet and writer at the ripe age of nineteen, rowan was a feel-too-much type of guy, resorting to jot his feelings down in a tiny notebook (one of many) whenever something happened. he couldn’t possibly live without writing something every single day.

but over the past weeks, it felt like there was nothing happening at all. he was lost, confused, panicked that he had nothing to write about.

so he decided to visit a faraway, quiet forest to get some peace, and hopefully, some inspiration. he made his way through the forest, looking for a place to lay his blanket.

just then, he spotted something. sitting there under a tree like a heaven-sent angel, was the most beautiful girl he’d ever had the honor to look at with his own four eyes. the sunlight peeking through the trees reflected off her chocolate skin delicately, a hand-weaved flower crown resting on her head. was he seeing an angel? an earth-element princess? he knew what he had to write about.