Sonic burst into the top tower room in the old house, his eyes searching for the source of his distress.
The room was dark, a flicker of lightning showing the outline of a teenage girl. As Sonic approached, he saw the girl. She had shoulder length chestnut brown hair with streaks of gold, pale skin, and eyes that changed color every few moments. They settled on emerald green as they locked on the few sheets of crumpled paper on the desk.
On the old wooden desk were sheets, written pages fastened into a fabled leather notebook. A neat black pen with a single golden streak curved into letters scribbled onto the sheets in a single word: Author