Chapter 1:

Another Day in Neverland

Twilight Neverland: One-Shot

To write is to live, such is the rule many authors abide by.

Sure, some may only be in it for the money. They may be talented, but such a mindset only paves a shapeless road.

Writing is not a shortcut to fame. It is not a skill to be belittled in a world of great medium. It is the very core of communication. The words, the languages, the meanings… they wouldn’t occur if it weren’t for the existence of the pen and paper, of the ability to speak.

However, to many, words on paper are still words written on paper.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Spoken words are not so much different from written words. If one’s heart is really into it, then it is enough to convey emotions through it, to trigger a response in them. It has been proven to be true many times by successful authors.

At some point in time, literature was, by far, the most predominant form of entertainment. Even with the changes of time and the growth of the newfound medium, the art of words was never forgotten.

Writing is, in itself, art. A host of imagination. Its very origin is literal art — the earliest form of writing were pictorial signs, born out of imagination, drawn in a complex compound form to express meaning. That didn’t stop with its development into the words of the modern world. Behind every word is a shape, a message, a sound.

Imagination doesn’t stop there though.

With imagination and words, authors were able to create believable worlds out of ink. From fantastical lands to nightmarish hellscapes.

That being said, beneath all this romanticism, writing words may just be writing words.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

But not in this world, it’s not.

Not in Neverland.

In Neverland, the bridge between reality and fables, words were enchanted, marking the threshold of a world of fables turned to reality.


— This is really good, huh.

She took another bite.

— Yea, this is really really good. How could anyone make something this delish?

The food in question was not really something special. To anyone born in the city, it was Heaven on Earth — it was one of its only special “dishes” after all — but to the outside world, to reality, it was an odd hybrid.

The young girl wiped the rice off her chin and proceeded to grab yet another piece.

The texture of this rice round-shaped food was saturated, thanks to the seaweed covering it. Each piece had different fillings. For example, the one the young girl just finished was filled with grilled salmon cream cheese. She could not believe how anyone could hide all this taste behind a layer of rice.

As for the other one…

She took a bite.

There was this certain thick and sweet layer of mayonnaise, followed by a familiar oily taste. It certainly wasn’t meat or chicken, she was sure of it, as it was milder and more tender.

— Aha!! Tuna fish!

After this great mystery was finally solved, the girl proceeded to eat and smile as if she had just won the greatest award of the century. But of course, that victory would be short-lived. No one can rest on the job like this after all.

Even under the tree in the secluded spot on the hill where the girl was, the sun still managed to peep in. It struck her eyes for a moment, reminding her of the scorching weather surrounding her. Cold food wasn’t going to suffice.

Autumn was on the horizon. Yet, the sun stood tall in the sky as it owned it, and the weather was as blistering as it would be on a summer’s day. It wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.

The girl remembered the forecast advising people to stay at their houses for the day. But, with or against her will, that did not apply to a student like her. She was to be stuck outside on this hill till her job was done. And at the pace she went at — eating, distracting herself — she wasn’t going home any time soon.

— Alrighty!

She finished the last piece of Maruyone, what the locals called that food here, and lightly slapped both her cheeks to focus before starting to observe the scenery before her.

— Let’s get this over with!

On this hill, the city of Pontemus was visible in all its glory. It was the pride of Neverland — and quite frankly, its only metropolis. From this point, the girl was able to see the Tower of the Hundred, which was way off on the other side of the city. She felt lucky for picking a clever vantage point such as this one.

The architecture of the city was… odd.

Despite being as modern as it would get, there was still a sense of antiquity — a living museum. At first glance from up top, you’d think this was a city of manors. Buildings were built in a compound form, but they were far from mundane. Each one had a unique medieval appeal to them with fancy ornamentation. Some of them varied, for the sake of variation. Others were bigger or smaller than the rest.

Instead of pure asphalt, the streets were made of solid concrete. But it was still enough to make it immaculate.

Behind her was the enormous Forlorn Mountain (“Alfchiesabo” in the Aldrian Language), the only mountain you could find in the entirety of Neverland, rising to about 13,488 feet long. It was considered an ancient landmark since it was the Aldrians, an ancient civilization said to only exist in mythological tales, that first inhabited it and brought life to the land (being Pontemus) beneath it, or so the tales would say.

Although she did this every day, the girl felt like she was staring at an 18th-century painting, not a city from the 21st century. She brushed off her usual awe and rose to take a closer look near the edge of the hill.

Being out in the sun wasn’t so bad. It, somehow, gave her enough energy to continue with her job.

The girl closed her eyes, yet she still saw everything. The blank page in her head was slowly being filled with all the information she needed. She took a deep breath to prepare for the next step. Her fingers took the shape of a slightly tilted square as if she was measuring a frame.

— Okay… First Form Techni—

“Uh… Excuse me there, young missy. I don’t think you should be around here!”

All her concentration went to naught when a man called out to her.

She immediately looked behind her with an irritated expression. A man, probably in his sixties, who looked like an everyday janitor, was standing near the tree. He took the box beside the tree and threw it in the trash can.

— M-My… Maruyone…

She felt her soul being sucked out. Her hands shook in the horror of the tragedy that just occurred. She was completely speechless.

“Um… Did you hear me, young missy?”

“Yes, I heard you!!!” She stomped her leg on the ground like a child about to throw a tantrum.

“Are your parents around?” He rubbed the back of his head as he looked around the place, “They wouldn’t want you…”

The janitor went on, but the girl was already in a world of her own.

She felt great disrespect coming from him as if he treated her like a measly child. Sixteen years old might not be so old, but she was still far from a child. Even if that was the case, she wasn’t just any kid.

“Hey, you!” She pointed her finger at him in a hostile manner, “Do I look like a kid to you?”

“I… I’m sorry?”

“Can’t you see my uniform??”

He looked dumbfounded.

That was when the girl realized.

She wasn’t wearing her jacket! The most important part of any writers’ uniform was their jacket, more so what that jacket entailed on its back.

She was of a below-average height, standing at a hundred and fifty-two centimeters, bearing fluffy short brown hair and a slim physique.

Her attire complimented her tanned skin. Just like any uniform, it was fairly simple: a white shirt, although she unbuttoned one part at her collar because of how tight it felt around in that area, and a black skirt with dark green lines itched near its end. As for the jacket — the pride of the Academy — it was wrapped entirely around her waist. There was no way she would wear it in this broiling weather.

Aside from the “outlandish” way she wore her uniform, the only other noticeable feature was her sparkling yellow eyes. They were really the eyes of an innocent child.

It was no mystery why the janitor mistook her for a child.

She reached for her jacket and spread it for the janitor to see. Despite being withered by the tons of time she wrapped it around her waist, it was fancy-looking, colored with a dark shade of green. On the back of the jacket was the Academy’s crest drawn with an outline of golden to display its significance. It was the first letter of the Greek alphabet (A), accompanied by the symbol of a pen that made it seem it drew the letter.

The man looked at it carefully, “The Academy, huh,” but then he eyed the girl a suspicious look, “Still, it doesn’t look like the official thing! I’m going to need you to show a form of identification, litt—”

“Like hell, I will!!” She shouted.

— What’s this old man’s deal?

Before the argument could delve any further than it should have, the ground rumbled greatly beneath them. The rumble was enough to shake the janitor off his feet. It was then and there that the girl saw a ray of light rising up to the sky from somewhere down in the city. She could not pinpoint where exactly, which was why she needed to move fast.

“Ugh… I don’t have time for this, old man!”

She wrapped the jacket back around her waist and ran to the edge of the cliff. For a good minute, she stood there, eyes closed, in complete silence.

Breaking the silence, the girl reached for her pocket and grabbed her pen.

It was made of solid aluminum and coated with a blue shade. There was a hermetically sealed tube containing the ink, preventing it from leaking.

And so, the girl rested the pen’s tip on thin air and began writing.

— First Form Technique

Her eyes lit up as if she received a vision. Nothing around her bothered her anymore. All her focus went into her hands and the pen she held.







Actual words formed in thin air behind every move she took. If you knew anything about Neverland, this wouldn’t be a strange sight to you. Even her insane writing speed wouldn’t be considered an abnormality at all.

Imagine a world where writers and authors were a much more powerful force than they actually were, where the words they write manifest into reality with ease.

That was Neverland.

But of course, nothing was too easy. A writer could not just write a world and bring it to reality out of nothing. Like anything in the world, there were always limitations, to avoid chaos. And with limitations came order and classifications. The average writer in Neverland had their own personalized skill, such as the girl who continued writing on thin air. Any writer could do that, but for what purpose? That was the difference.

“What in the name of?” The janitor, fallen on the ground, watched the girl as she performed her “writing.” He wasn’t necessarily surprised by it, but rather so by why a “little” girl would be doing such a thing.

— Second Form Technique

Without warning, a heavy gust burst out to the girl’s surroundings — it was strong enough to knock the janitor’s hat off. From that point, the girl only got better at her work. She proceeded to write, at even greater speed, with no care in the world. Her mission was important above all else. Within less than a minute, the girl had already written words worth of pages, all still visible, and all on thin air.

— Third Form Technique

Another blast occurred.

If she was summoning a demon from another world, it wouldn’t be as grand as this. It felt like she was calling upon the four titans from up in the sky.

The janitor tried to collect his things and scram, but the sight was something to behold. Being a simple janitor, one would see a lot of fantastical things happening all over the city almost every day, but only from a faraway point. This was the first time he saw something like this up close.

At long last, the girl finished off her writing with a swing as if she was done drawing the painting of the century.

She let out a loud sigh.

— This thing is more exhausting than P.E on campus.

True. Writing in Neverland was always a matter of mind, coupled with skill. If one wasn’t too careful, it could easily drain their energy to the point of passing out. The girl chuckled as she remembered the times she passed out when she was just a freshman.

“Who… Who are you?”

The girl heard the janitor speaking, who was still in awe of what happened.

“Tch… Was the crest not enough? I’m a writer from Luxsforth!” She said as if she just declared she was the queen of the country.

Zoe Jaeger smiled.


Full Name: Zöe Jäger

Age: 16 years old

Birthdate: May 12

Gender: Female

Height: 152cm

Literary Element: Reader

Rank: 1st Year Student (Luxsworth Academy)

Note: Insecure about her height


“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Zoe extended her hand.

The janitor thought she was offering to help him up, but the truth was always cruel (perhaps comical sometimes).

“My Maruyone, please!”

“Eh…?” The janitor was confused.

“My Maruyone! It was inside that box you just threw in your bag!!” Even if it was gone to the trash, Zoe wasn’t going to easily give up on her food. Not now. Not ever. “And who throws a lunch box like that? You thought you could have it all for yourself, huh.”

He didn’t.

“Well, too bad, old man. I bought it with all what’s left of my allowance and I’m not willing to share!”

The janitor’s mind was not totally there at that moment. He still wondered what kind of power Zoe used — he was one of the unfortunate souls that were given very little insight on Neverland, so he was ignorant of how most gifted writers operated.

“H-How did you do that?” He asked.


“The thing you just…”

“Ohh, you mean my writing?” She smirked, “If I told you, will you give me back my food?”

He nodded. Although he did not understand why she was so persistent on getting something that probably reeked of odor already.

“Really?! That’s it? Well…,” she cleared her throat, “I am a reader!”

Contrary to their titles, readers were still writers. In fact, they were the most important element of a writing team. For someone to apply their writing to reality, they needed to read their surroundings, the environment, first in order to establish a mental page in their mind. But that ability always remained to a minimum to anyone whose specialty wasn’t reading.

Readers were able to master the Reading Techniques and help their teammates by sharing the construct they established. Techniques are divided into three stages or forms. Each form focused on increasing the reader’s writing speed in relaying the information they read on the “page,” while also widening the range of what they could read.

“There! Now hand me my food.”

In that second, Zoe felt a sting coming from her head.

She was still connected to the pages she wrote, which, in turn, were connected to her on-going surroundings. That sudden strike meant that something was wrong.

— No…

Zoe ran back to the cliff.

— Stupid Zoe! Of course, I forgot.

Despite the mass reading she performed upon a good chunk of the city, she still failed to identify a source of abnormality within it.

There was a reason a student like her was called out into the field instead of simply attending classes on a day like this. Every once in a while, a “fable abnormality” would occur, academy students get called into action.

She, once again, held out her pen and looked through the words she wrote, as if she was trying to pinpoint an error within them.

— “...and in the third avenue of the Clockwork Town, on the sidewalk, walked a small canine to an…”

“Right there!” She yelled.

Clockwork Town was way off to the east of the city, particularly from where the bright light came. The pieces were all perfectly aligned together.

Now she needed to just erase the “canine” and identify its true—

— A Dragooun?!

She backed away in shock.

— This is bad! No, stay calm. It’s still in a level one stage… We can fix this.

Zoe put away her pen back in her pocket and grabbed her phone instead. Opening it, she quickly scrolled through her contacts.

She tapped on “Group Call” and waited.