In the spring time you run around, chasing the menaces to the ground. Until you need to catch your breath and find somewhere out of the sun. Into the tree line you go, and happen upon an old building made of stone, tall and all alone it seemed harmless enough, even if the stonework looked to be centuries old.
Once inside you see it is not in fact just a building but a library, with book and book shelves reaching up into the darkness of the rafters. The stain glass above the door cast a pattern of a quill on the floor and there is a sign saying come in.
You do as told and wander through the shelves, happening upon a table with a book open, in it are not words but sketches of places none have ever seen. The more you look how ever the more 3d the sketches look before you realize that the ink was lifting off the page. With a cry you scramble back into the chest of a man who catches you.
&hush little one, neither I nor my ink will harm you.& you pull back to see the pale man with red hair and ink black eyes smiling at you, he is dressed like a king. With a small smile he steps back and lifts your hand placing a kiss on it before smiling at you. &Please milady, rest here as long as you wish it is safe here. &
He helps you to a chair and even brings you a tray of food offering you many books to read. it is sometime later before you hear his voice reading aloud from a book, it and his ink painting the images so vividly in front of you but you are to tire and fall asleep at the table. The next thing you know you wake in your room ink stains on your hands, and though you don&t know it your face and a gift with a note beside you.
&please sleep well little one, and may your dreams one day make it into books.& the next time you try to find the library it is not there, nor is its master.
~ Ink King