You barely even feel the boat lurch to its stop. It’s felt like hours since you heard the anchor start dragging against the bottom of the bay. It was calm at least, barely even making the water crest against the docks while you joined everyone else returning home. 

Your new home.

Promised work from family you only knew by name, a new start. Enough money to send back and help keep the younger kids fed, a new future when they’re old enough.

It all still feels- unsettling, like you’re listening in on secrets you shouldn’t hear.

Not in any way you could place, or anyway you could find the nerve to ask about. It all just felt too- serene, like everything was playing back through filters. Nobody else seems to notice it. Kids shrieking with laughter and running along the pier, couples giggling to each other in line ahead of you.

It was probably just your head.

You have been travelling for gods knows how long.

“Next!” 

It’s loud enough for you to notice but it’s not even close to enough to break you out of your thoughts, dropping your papers on the counter and staring right past the clerk. It feels like every inch of every wall is covered in posters, two more showing up to replace every half torn remnant.

They’re all close enough to the same, all bright colours like they’re advertising a carnival and decorated with everything fitting. Creatures filling the margins that couldn’t exist, all sharp lines and fuzz. Every one of them looking towards the centre almost in a bow.

“Trust the archiver.” Hovering above a golden eye that felt like it stared back.

It almost feels less- eerie than the rest of it, water too calm, birds flying through a too blue sky singing in perfect tune. Like everything was manufactured, paused at just the right moment and stitched back together. 

“Ignore them, towns started getting some strange sort lately. Harmless lot but I wouldn’t stay out late enough to see.”

“Hmm.” It’s more a noise than a reply bubbling out before you realise it. 

More transfixed watching that eye, like it knows everything you’ve ever thought. 

Even after grabbing your papers you can’t look away, every alley you pass is littered with them. Every free door covered like a coat of paint, like the entire world is dripping in inked pages.

“Trust the Archiver.”

They don’t even say who, or what they even are, how to even find them to listen. Just an eye staring at you from every inch of every wall every step you take.

You don’t even notice the sun setting, the creatures coming off the page just feels natural, like they were always supposed to be there. They just watch you, mouths full of fangs you should be scared of instead of smiling back. Like you’re finally reuniting with an old friend you’ve never met before.

Blimp like things filling the sky and skating through the roads, everything two or four legged dancing through the streets like walpurgis’ parade. They all just pass in and out, flickering through the crowd like they’re not even there. The air doesn’t even feel chilled, everything that feels like it should be shooting terror through you just feels warm.

You’re barely to the city centre before you see her. It’s the only thing that’s felt cold, like you’re finally somewhere you aren’t supposed to be. You can only stand there getting bounced around by people passing you, jeers you only hear half of.

It’s like every lamp and star burnt out, like the world has been drowned out. All dark and viscous and heavy, clinging to you like tar and flowing over you like ink.

She finally looks back at you smiling something soft and knowing. Eyes gold enough they feel like they’re glowing.

It was a peaceful day in Inkwell. The Novelites went about their day-to-day business around the kingdom, performing various duties for their princess. The Pages floated to and fro, whilst the Bookwyrms frolicked in the fields, and the Novel Knights watched over them all. Everything appeared to be normal…

But at Inkwell Manor, deep within The Great Library, a small Novelite shuffled around the Sorting Room in a frantic state.

“Oh dear, oh no!” The small Novelite fretted to itself as it scooted in a circle around the room.

“What am I going to do?!?”

“What’s wrong, little one?” A Page asked as it floated down from where it was storing books on a top shelf.

“I need to find something new for Lady Shiori to read!” The Novelite wailed.

“But she’s read so many books that I have no idea what to bring to her!”

“Oh my!” The Page said. “That is a bit of a conundrum!”

“Have no fear, little one! For I have exactly what you need!”

The Novelite and Page looked up to see a Novel Knight sitting astride their Bookwyrm. The inky steed shuffled forward, knocking piles of books over as it made its way to the panicky pair.

“Good knight, please! No riding Bookwyrms in the library!” The Page shrieked.

“No worries, good Page!” The knight said, sliding off the back of their Bookwyrm mount and landing solidly on the floor. The Novelknight turned and pulled a large burlap sack off from where it had been stored behind their saddle on their steed’s back, placing it on the ground with a heavy thump

“Behold!” The Novel Knight said, flipping open the sack to reveal a stack of books.

The Page and the Novelite looked at each other, then back at the knight.

“Well,” the Novelite said slowly, “I can see that they’re more books, but I don’t quite see how that changes anything.”

“Ah, but these are not any old books,” the Novel Knight said, wagging an inky tendril back and forth.

“These books are a collection known as The Ludlum Library.”

“Oooh!” The Novelite squealed in excitement, then immediately asked, “What’s that?”

“The Ludlum Library is a series of books written and published by Professor Lenore ‘Lenny’ Ludlum of the Wiskatonic Institute,” the Novel Knight said.

“She had begun researching a variety of subjects relating to the Ancient Ones, and began recording her findings in these books.”

“That doesn’t sound safe…” the Page said.

“It wasn’t,” the Novel Knight said. “Unfortunately, continuous exposure to… well, to anything relating to the AOs took a toll on her sanity, which can be seen in the increasingly nonsensical titles of her works.”

“Really?” The Novelite asked, cautiously eyeing the stack of books.

“Really. See here, at the top, where the titles at least appear coherent?” the Novel Knight said as they ran their tendril over the spines of the books.

“The Horshack Conspiracy and The Forbin Conundrum,” the Novelite squinted as they read the titles aloud.

“Yes,” the Novel Knight nodded. “Then, as her mental state deteriorated, the titles of her books devolved into nonsensical word salad, like The Migraine Containment, The Slingshack Congealment, and The Crankshaft McNogginbee.”

“What are those sheets of paper between each book?” The Page asked, looking the pile up and down.

“Some sort of padding, I’d imagine,” the Novel Knight said with a shrug. Then they pointed at the lower half of the stack and said, “Now these are the fun ones. Ludlum wrote them after she had gone completely off her rocker, and it shows through the utter gibberish titles she chose. Take a look.”

The Novelite scooted closer to the pile of books, and began reading the titles out loud, “The GreenGreen Gagrinegagrinega, The Polping PoPoPoPo, Zinga Zingaza, The Klingla Kluglulu, The Shreenshrack Regeengyne, The- what is this nonsense?!?”

“Keep going,” the Novel Knight said, paying no attention to the Page who had floated closer to the books.

“All right,” the Novelite sighed, and resumed reading. “The Momaw Mo-moo-moo, The Mingmang Patingtang, The Lala Kalingalingaling, The Kriskrack Krakrakra, and The Machingo Congilium.”

“So, what do you think?” The Novel Knight asked.

“I think you had me read a bunch of nonsense for your own personal amusement,” the Novelite replied, glaring at the knight.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Novel Knight said, their eye twinkling mischievously. “All I’ve done is presented you with new reading material to give to Shiori. An obscure collection of books on eldritch abominations-“

“And the screenplay for Steel Magnolias,” the Page said, having picked up the top book and looking at the papers underneath it.

“Wat,” the Novel Knight said flatly.

“And Beaches,” the Page continued, picking up the next book, then picking up the third and saying, “And 50 Shades of-“ The Page stopped abruptly, slamming the books back on the stack.

An awkward silence filled the room as the Novelite, Page, and Novel Knight fidgeted about in discomfort.

Finally, the Novelite said, “Are we sure Professor Ludlum wasn’t just writing some AO-focused sm-, er, doujins?”

“Hewwo?” A familiar voice called from the entrance of the Sorting Room. The trio yelped and flailed about in a panic as Shiori walked into the room.

“What’cha guys doing?”

“Lady Shiori! Uhm, well, you see- that is we-,” the Novel Knight stammered out.

“Oh, the Ludlum Library?” Shiori said, flipping open the cover of the top book. “They’re interesting reads, I suppose, but not really my thing.”

“Oh,” the Novel Knight said with disappointment, shoulders slumping. “I-I see…”

“Aww, there there,” Shiori said, patting the knight on their head. “It’s okay, I appreciate that you tried to get me something new…”

“Thank you, Lady Shiori,” the Novel Knight said, hugging Shiori’s legs. The Novelite and Page moved closer to join the knight in hugging their lady. Even the Bookwyrm scooted forward and nuzzled her face with its head.

“Now then,” Shiori said as she disengaged from her followers, “how about we go find something new for me to read.”

“Yay!” All of her followers cheered. Shiori picked up the Novelite and walked further into the Sorting Room. The Page and the Novel Knight started to follow along behind, when the Page stopped and looked at the Novel Knight.

“What should we do about… those?” The Page asked, looking back at the collection of books.

The Novel Knight walked over to the Bookwyrm and stepped on its front limb, causing its mouth to swing open. Then the knight threw each book and screenplay into the Bookwyrm’s mouth, which swallowed them all whole and burped loudly. Then the Novel Knight leapt on the Bookwyrm’s back and rode after Shiori, with the Page floating after them yelling, “I SAID, NO RIDING BOOKWYRMS IN LIBRARY!” It was a peaceful day in Inkwell.

The sound of metal echoed through the halls of Novellus Castle. The building was located on the outskirts of a small town in Scotland, right at the very edge of the world.

It was a dark night, with the only source of light being the lantern in your right hand. Although it was far from calm, outside the stone walls, you could hear the wind wailing and thunder roaring. It had taken some effort to get here, and your cloak had been drenched with rain.

Water dripped down the steps, adding slippery sounds, so you leaned against the wall with your left hand so you would not trip.

It was another night in this seemingly unimportant and mundane job. When you took it five years ago, you thought it was just guard duty at an art gallery in the castle.

To your surprise, the admission process was rather complicated and scrupulous. The owner of the castle, an old lord, sat you down and explained that this job was very important.

You sighed just remembering this. Apart from making sure tourists did not touch anything here, you had to come every night at midnight and make sure everything was in place.

Finally, you reached the iron door. You put the lantern on the ground and pulled out several keys, trying to figure out which one opened the door.

Another lightning bolt struck so close that the air seemed to shake from the thunder.

“Whoa, the weather is feisty tonight. I should hurry up and go home, lest I spend the night here,” you muttered as you finally unlocked the door.

You were not a superstitious person. You did not believe in ghosts or anything like that, so spending the night here would not be so bad—but you still preferred the comfort of your bed.

As you entered the room, you raised the lantern and looked around the art gallery. All the pieces were covered with red linen, so you needed to uncover them one by one. There were many canvases, but you were instructed to check only the specific five.

“Why?”

You remembered asking the lord. At first, he wanted to avoid answering, but when you finally got the position, he reluctantly explained.

“These are not just ordinary canvases. They are windows to another place, a prison of sorts, and you are the guardian.”

It would be an understatement to say you were not satisfied with this answer. However, since you needed a job, you decided to appease them by feigning understanding.

The lord saw right through you and just made a light smile.

“You will understand one day,” he had said.

You removed the first linen to check the first painting, titled The Jewel of Emotions. It was a drawing of a beautiful pink crystal. At first, you had just shrugged off the lord’s remark, but as you took care of this gallery, you noticed some odd things happening.

Again, you were not a superstitious person, but at times you heard strange noises, as if someone were wiping glass with a rag. You wrote it off as a product of your imagination.

You moved to the next painting. The Demon of Sound was its title. It depicted a very beautiful woman with horns black as night. You were no art expert, but at times you thought it could rival the Mona Lisa in beauty. In fact, you found yourself looking at it for hours; that was how alluring it was.

Now, however, it was the middle of the night, and it felt as though her beauty had become even more profound. You turned away, unless you wanted to spend the whole night staring at it.

“Why will you not show these canvases to the world?” you had once asked. This place held many beautiful pieces of art, and you felt it could make a fortune by attracting more people. The lord just shook his head and gave a vague answer.

“It is their prison, so they will remain here forever,” he said.

The answer seemed overly odd, but again, there was no arguing with the employer.

You approached the next two canvases. For some reason, you were instructed to always check them at the same time. The Demonic Guard Dogs, two large dogs barking, seemingly at each other. It felt like it was actually one piece that had been cut into two paintings. One dog had pink eyes and the other blue; both were chained and surrounded by flames.

At times, you heard the sound of chains, but it was a castle, and with some of its decorations including those, the wind always made them rattle, echoing through the halls. Tonight, the sounds were much louder, perhaps because of the storm.

Finally, you moved to the last painting. Your hand froze as you were about to reach for it.

“But no matter what you do, never look into this painting for too long. Never perceive it, and make sure not to place any books beside her.”

The lord had warned you. At first, it was a very odd request. It was The Archiver, a painting with beaming orange eyes and ink leaking from them.

At times, when you looked at it, you felt like the eyes were blinking, but you persuaded yourself it was just an optical illusion because of how many eyes were drawn.

It still did not explain why some of the books you were reading during the day, while you had nothing to do, had disappeared. It was probably the janitor who took them, but they never confessed.

As you removed the linen, a sudden flash of lightning blinded you, and the wind broke the windows. You hurried to close them, and when you were finally done, you turned to the painting, and your heart froze.

It was empty.

The multitude of orange eyes was gone.

The next moment, you realised there was a woman standing in the shadows. One side of her hair was black, and the other white. Her dress was gothic in style, and her eyes...

Her eyes were burning orange, the same as on the canvas.

She raised a finger to her lips and only whispered

“Shhhh.”

Another lightning flash blinded you, enveloping the whole room in white light, and by the time you could see again, all the canvases were gone.

The prison had been broken.

The night of Halloween beckoned many happy children. Various costumes adorned the streets, as many celebrated the long-passed holiday that had long since been obscured in meaning. Candy, cavities, pumpkins and ink – Duskmire was a thriving center of spooks and smiles. 

Many a resident heard tales of the ‘Santa Witch’. While many kids had the pleasure of experiencing the thrill of trick-or-treating, there were a vast many who rested idly in their homes. Families that didn’t quite have the time or ability to celebrate in some way slumbered quietly in their homes, as they laid concealed by the darkness in their homes. 

There was one witch who stood as the head of Duskmire – her Bi-colored hair, amber eyes, and hat that hung low off her head – who made it her personal mission to involve every kid in the thrill of Halloween. With her assistants in tow on her broom, she went by each quiet home around the world, leaving sugary sweets in the desolate corners of the rooms occupied by kids who weren’t quite so lucky to procure their own. 

She knew how to have her own fun though, with each random drop, a toy spider may find its way among the buckets of candy she would leave behind – after all, what’s the spooky season without a little adrenaline inducing fun? 

After all was said and done, Duskmire would celebrate the return of their witch and the lucky few assistants chosen to help. The streets erupted with pumpkin carving contests, candy vendors being set up on the cobblestone streets, parties being arranged in misshapen manors and houses, and many other various spooky activities that the residents could creatively think of. The witch watched on with a smile, archiving another successful year.

This was troublesome. Shiori tipped her head to the side, ears perched atop her head twitching slightly. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at her and tilted its head to the side as well. A kitten, black as midnight, sat on the grass in front of Shiori. Tracen Academy was a pet-free campus, but strays wandering in from the city weren’t an uncommon sight. It being a pet free campus made this difficult; she wanted to keep it. So badly. She pouted slightly. So cute, so uniformly black, so calm and so sweet. It just sat there and stared at her. This kitten reminded her of her cat from back home, Yorick, who she had to leave in the possession of a family friend while she was running nationals. 

Would Yorick like a new sibling? She bent down and picked up the kitten and held it out in front of her. It barely moved. Healthy, good weight, glossy coat, probably just needed to be dewormed… No one would notice her fawning over him, right? Tracen Tokyo’s own black phantom, the most intimidating horse on campus and one that spawned whispers and glances when she walked through. A horse girl that inspired fear in this around her… 

But he was so cute. But she couldn’t keep a cat on campus. She tilted her head to the side once more and the cat mirrored her. The ears atop her head twitched, and so did the kittens. Her heart soared. He was perfect. She almost let out a squeal and held him close to her chest. Screw the rules, she was going to keep Inkwell. The name came to her instantly. Such a cute black coat, so dark you could only make out the eyes on his head… Inkwell would be the perfect name for him.

 A cold sweat formed on her face. What about Advent? Bijou wouldn’t mind, and would honestly probably keep him a secret as her roommate. Nerissa was too obsessed with Gigi right now to think about anything else. But the twins. They would be the problem. They were loyal but they would run their mouths. She had a reputation to uphold, after all. Maybe she would keep it in her room for the time being and introduce him slowly to the twins. She held the cat out and stared into his eyes again before squealing and hugging him again. Forget the twins. She’ll figure it out later. She tucked Inkwell into her school bag and carefully pulled it over her shoulder and snuck away from the courtyard before anyone else could see her.