Disclaimer: Characters and locations found in the Inkworld Trilogy belong to Cornelia Funke, not us. We only own the characters we create. :)

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Prologue

Beautiful Words

"Life is made of so many moments that mean nothing.

Then, one day, a single moment comes along to

define every second that comes after."

~ Sabaa Tahir; An Ember in the Ashes

The dungeons of the Castle of Night were cold and damp. Orpheus stood in the furthest cell from the narrow entrance, a piece of parchment clutched in his plump, milk-white hands. He practically buzzed with excitement as he glanced back at the ornately dressed young woman behind him. The queen of Argenta. He was about to perform his greatest work of art yet for her.

The reader smiled proudly as he read the words he had written out loud, tasting each one of them on his tongue.

And Death spoke with the reader, pleased by the beautiful words he had written. He told her of the plan he and the lovely queen had thought up, working out the details tirelessly for nights on end, their plan to borrow a life from Death. While the reader specialized with bargaining for life, borrowing was something he had never done, but they did need the girl they wished for for so long.

Death agreed to their plan and the queen and her reader set the wheels in motion. They sent a lock of hair to the farms of Ombra and the Fire-Dancer, Dustfinger, fell into their trap. He traveled to the castle of silver and was bound in the cleverly spun trap, never to see the light of day again.

When he looked up from the words he so brilliantly wrote, standing before him were three of Death's white women. On the shoulder of the closest one sat a golden . with a blood stained breast. He had heard of the forms Death could take from the minstrels lately. Mortimer had probably been telling stories somewhere.

Between the two white women in the back stood the child in question, he assumed. Her small hands wrapped around the fingers of Death's daughters and she stared ahead with not a glimmer of emotion at the situation.

"Death," Orpheus said, giving a dramatic bow. This was the first time he had met her face-to-face and he wished to impress such a powerful being. "I have a proposition for you."

"I do not often bargain my souls, Orpheus," Death answered simply.

"But you see, I will reward you with two souls for the one you let me borrow," he said. "In the end, you will have lost none and gained two."

The bird was quiet as if contemplating what had been said and the worth of the soul in question. Finally, she gave in.

"You have one month," Death told him. "If you do not hold to your end of the deal, I will take the one I lost and will claim yours as well when you least expect me."

Death's threat barely fazed the arrogant reader as his confidence in his words had risen to new heights when he discovered how to summon Death and make her deals. As the white women faded along with their mistress, the child seemed to materialize before them.

The child blinked a few times before her dark gaze fixed on the people in front of her. Her eyes widened as she frantically looked around. Where was she? And where were her parents? How did she even get here in the first place?

Tears formed in the girl's eyes, but Orpheus took no notice. He simply drew the knife from his belt and approached her, but he did not attack her. No. She was far too precious for that. His knife, instead, cut through a black curl at her cheek.

He walked back to drop the lock of dark hair into the hand of the maid, whose eyes, he noticed, were fixed unblinkingly on the little girl.

"Have this sent to the Fire-Eater as proof," he told her, "and tell him what I want in return."

With those words still lingering in the air, he had the dungeon cell locked up and left, the queen soon following behind. The handmaiden wrapped her fingers carefully around the small lock of hair, glancing at the frightened little girl. She wished she could comfort the poor thing, but there was no way she could while Orpheus and the queen were still so close.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to turn towards the exit, tightening her grip on the lock of hair, determined not to lose it so the child wouldn't have to endure more fear than she had to. She hoped no trouble would come to the girl, but she wasn't sure how much of her wish would be granted