When I was young, I loved more than anything the rare visits made to my grandmother's house. Visiting her was like living a children's fairytale come to life. Not only did we cross over a river, and pass through a wood, but she lived in a cottage surrounded by herbs and flowers, and I was often warned of dangerous creatures lurking beyond the gated gardens. 
When she died, her fairytale cottage in the woods, and everything there in, was left to me, her only granddaughter. Despite my parents urging me to think it over, I packed up the few things I owned and moved.
Aside from the keys, the lawyer gave me a simple note written in gran's scrawling calligraphy. It read: "The ink of our souls binds us beyond the pages of time."
As someone who had dedicated their studies to becoming a scribe in the towers, I assumed she was referring to the importance of accurate records for future historians..... Timeless records, right?
No. Apparently she was quite literal, as I was informed by the soul of the warlock bound to the deed of gran’s house...

The Ink of Our Souls

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