Imprint

By Madeline J. Rose

Can she survive the deadly chase?

Like so many bookworms, Paige Turner loves escaping into the world of stories. However, unlike other bookworms, she can literally escape into the world of stories through the ink on the pages.

When two strange men set out to kidnap Paige and her frien

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inklings LLC
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986530819

Madeline J. Rose

Madeline is a YA author who loves writing a lot of fantasy. She lives in the rural Midwest with her family and works at her local paper as a proofreader. For over ten years, she has worked on improving her craft and writing many, many stories. Along with writing, she enjoys reading, music, and cooking. She has an AAS in Multimedia Design Technology and is currently freelancing as a graphic designer.

Book preview

Prologue

"Why?"

Drilidric’s words echoed across the empty room, making him shiver. His head swam with dark thoughts.

He’s mad. He’s insane.

He winced. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I understand it seems brutal now, but it’s all right, everything is as it should be. Zedidiah’s face looked pale. It’s the path the Author has for me.

Drilidric shuddered. He stood with his back to the cold stone wall of the throne room. His hands felt coated in ice. He couldn’t stop them from shaking. The floor was frigid beneath his bare feet. You’ve lost your mind, he whispered.

Zedidiah rose from his spot on the tall throne and strode up to Drilidric. His boots tapped a quiet, menacing rhythm.

I would never, he snapped. "I’m not crazy. My plan is brilliant. Don’t get mad at me because you threw away a perfectly good life because ‘you thought you were doing the right thing’."

Drilidric glared. It’s not my fault.

"Not your fault? The entire room shook with the sound of Zedidiah’s furious voice. It was absolutely your fault! Don’t play the victim. He shuddered. Makes me sick."

The words made Drilidric nauseous. He glowered. "This is not okay, and you know it. Do you regret nothing? You just killed your brother." A quiet pain seeped into his temple. He ignored it.

Dril, honestly, why can’t you see this was destined to be? Zedidiah lifted a hand. It was in the outline before pages began. It may be a tragedy right now. I understand that. But I can’t face my destiny with fear and uncertainty. It wouldn’t be right.

Drilidric said nothing, shifting his feet. Light from the towering stained-glass windows poured into the room, hitting his face.

Think of all the things I can accomplish now! Zedidiah went on, starting to pace. I can help the people! I can give them work, order, routines! All of those missing when my brother was in control. He turned to Drilidric. I’ll be a better ruler than he could have ever been. He tried his best. I’ll give him that. But I will be the one to save this world from chaos.

You’re not saving this world from chaos. You’re creating it, Drilidric said, gritting his teeth, the sun on his face unbearably annoying. "Don’t you see?"

There’s where you’re wrong. Zedidiah sat down on the throne and stroked the armrest. His hands were transparent. Drilidric could see the blackness of his veins. You insist on staying in the past, Dril. I look forward to a brighter future.

But don’t you care? Drilidric’s voice wobbled. He was your brother. Do you feel anything? Anything at all?

I stopped feeling when my parents were killed, Zedidiah hissed.

A heavy silence hung in the room, leaving a sticky unpleasantness in the air. It made Drilidric’s throat tighten. His eyes burned with tears. What do you think you’re fixing? he croaked. What do you hope to gain by doing this?

Zedidiah’s whole body shook. "I’ll fix this mess, he said, gesturing toward the window. His voice sounded determined, but Drilidric heard it tremble. And the only way I can do that is by being in control."

Drilidric swallowed. You’re insane. He shook his head. His heart thumped in his chest.

I’m not insane, Zedidiah seethed. He clenched and unclenched his hands, the room miserably hot.

I can’t let you do this, Drilidric said, panic rising. I can’t let you take over.

Zedidiah sneered. Take over? Is that what you think it is? I’m going to rebuild Fanastasia into something the world has never known since the ages of prosperity.

"Shut up! Drilidric snarled. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You need help. It can’t come to this."

It already has, Zedidiah replied with a fiery glare. Red fog streamed from his fists. "Whether you like it or not, I will be ruler. I will control Fanastasia. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!"

I give up. Drilidric sighed, a shaggy strand of hair falling into his eyes. I have to try, he said.

I dare you! Zedidiah shouted. Hands shaking with anger, red magic burst from his palms.

Drilidric saw the shot coming and froze. The blast missed his chest but struck his shoulder. Growling, he collapsed to the ground, clutching his arm. He looked up with blurry vision and saw Zedidiah hovering over him.

As he gripped his arm, dark black ink seeped through his fingers, spilling onto the stone floor. Willing himself to look Zedidiah in the eye, he weakly sat up. He sucked in a hot breath, gasping.

I wish this friendship didn’t have to end like this.

He lunged forward and grabbed Zedidiah’s collar. Zedidiah stumbled forward.

Trying to catch his breath enough to speak, Drilidric brought Zedidiah’s face close to his. The smell of ink penetrated his senses. You are never…leaving this fortress…again, he gasped between breaths. Sweat dripped from his brow.

Zedidiah winced and tried to shove Drilidric away. But Drilidric held firm, watching intently for the command to seep into Zedidiah’s mind.

After a moment of Zedidiah flinching and gritting his teeth, Drilidric dropped his collar and slumped down.

Zedidiah shot to his feet, backing away from his friend. Ink stained his shirt and cloak, his eyes red with angry magic.

You’ll regret this! he roared. You will pay for this! He spun around, eyes wildly darting around. Saymeth! he barked. Send him to the mirror room immediately!

A tall, lanky man entered, clutching the hilt of his sword. His eyes widened when he saw the inky man on the floor.

He hurried to obey, hefting Drilidric to his feet.

Drilidric gasped, as he felt his legs quiver. Saymeth gripped his arm, dragging him from the throne room and into the hallways.

It passed in a blur, shock and bitterness swirling in him. He tried rubbing healing magic into his arm, but the wound was deep, the magic too strong to overcome. He limped miserably down the hall, leaning on Saymeth. Tears stung his eyes, but he ignored them. Every inch of him ached with sadness.

Saymeth looked at Drilidric with deep regret, and then shoved him through a door.

Drilidric stumbled into a poorly lit room with a giant mirror in its center, forcing himself not to collapse again.

The floor felt cool against his feet. He gazed at his stunned, ink-shot eyes and wounded reflection. He tried to think, but his mind was foggy.

It’s from loss of ink, he lied to himself. He gripped his arm.

Another silhouette appeared in the mirror. Drilidric spun to face Zedidiah. He held a staff, glowering.

Because of your foolish decision to trap me in my own home, I’m going to return the favor. Zedidiah’s grip tightened on the staff.

Drilidric stumbled back. His head spun and his eyes continued to water. The throbbing of his arm matched the throbbing of his heart.

Zedidiah’s mouth twisted into a scowl. You’re going to have a nice long stay in Rorrim. He thrust the staff at the gargantuan mirror. Glass spilled into the room, and Drilidric shielded his face from the destruction.

Almost beautiful. All the shards glittering with the two reflections.

This time, Zedidiah grabbed Drilidric’s collar. I’m so disappointed in you, he snapped.

The air thickened around him. Drilidric felt ink dripping onto the floor beside him. Why? he asked breathlessly.

"Why do you think? You’re a liar. A thief. And a murderer. Though his voice gave nothing away, Zedidiah’s eyes brimmed with tears. I’m all too glad to rid the world of you."

Drilidric didn’t reply, but instead wrenched against Zedidiah’s grip and bolted toward the door.

I can still make it. I can still escape.

Every step Drilidric took felt like a step backwards, the air suffocating. Heavy red fog hung in the air and its fumes seeped into his head, dragging him closer to darkness. He wavered, pausing in his tracks. Swallowed. His legs swayed.

Like a string was wrapped around his chest, Drilidric stumbled backward, toward the broken glass.

I need to do something. I need to move. But the fog continued to draw him in, and he had no choice but to simply let it. He shut his eyes and slumped back, letting the magic tug him into the shattered mirror.

How does it feel being weak? Zedidiah hissed.

Drilidric sluggishly opened his eyes, his gaze searching for Zedidiah’s blurry form.

Familiar… he whispered. Prickling needles stung his skin, limbs shattering, splitting into thousands of pieces. The glass shards clinked like wind chimes as they sucked him in. Almost a comforting sound.

A moment of weightlessness, and his stomach rose in anticipation for the fall. The world dipped and a cold chill brushed against his skin. He breathed in and opened his eyes. Darkness encroached, soaking his soul.

He turned and saw a blurry block of light. He took a few steps toward it. The ground stung, cold and unforgiving against his feet. A fuzzy figure bubbled in the light. It hurt to move his eyes, but Drilidric squinted and saw Zedidiah.

He reached out to him, but his hand hit a glass wall.

Enjoy your stay, Zedidiah snarled, turning away.

The light began to fade and Drilidric closed his eyes.

You, too.

Chapter 1

10 YEARS LATER

The fight began with a gasp.

Paige stood in a circle of onlookers, sandwiched next to a mother with her eight overexcited children and a man with a thick cloak and golden hair.

I bet you ten coins that Sir Daniels will win, one of the boys standing next to her whispered loudly. He hasn’t once lost a fight. Probably, anyway. I think. What do you say?

Paige had no idea what was going on. Two angry men slashed at each other with swords, and she was sure one of them had the upper hand, but she couldn’t figure out who.

I have no coins to bet, she said softly. She clenched her hands.

The market square bustled with activity. Tables crammed with squash, pumpkins, zucchinis, apples, and grapes sat in neat little rows, vendors shouting and barking about their goods.

The smell of fruits and vegetables mixed with the scent of dirt and too many people standing next to each other for too long. The golden-haired man beside her had been playing his lute under a nearby awning, but the sounds of metal hitting metal had drowned out the stringy music and prompted him to take a closer look at the action.

Think about your honor, Darien, said the man who Paige presumed to be Sir Daniels. This is nothing to fight about.

But Darien didn’t seem to think the same. He launched toward Sir Daniels with his sword, harder than before, fury smeared across his face. Their swords met and stayed tightly caught together, neither willing to back down.

Paige’s heart raced, and nervous sweat coated her whole body. She gripped her skirt, unable to peel her eyes from the men.

Screams, shuffling, and chaos hit the crowd. The commotion whirled around Paige, and she flailed like a fish in a net.

Her eyes fluttered to Sir Daniels, brutally wounded, evident by the dark liquid flowing from his chest, splattering the ground. Her eyes widened, and a shaky hand rose to her lips.

The crowd shifted, giving the men a wide berth. Young children cried into their mothers’ skirts, while the mothers shoved their little ones farther into the crowd, away from the violence.

Sir Daniels stumbled forward once and fell over.

The neighing of a horse and the clopping of its hooves broke through the tumultuous noise. An important-looking man dressed in a dark violet uniform rode forward on horseback.

What in the king’s name is going on?

The people scattered like mice at his voice, scuttling away. Paige took a few deep breaths, willing herself to enter the escaping throng.

She ran.

Dashing through the fray of people, she kept her head low, hefting her skirt away from the dirty ground.

Her sides burned. I need to stop for a second. Her eyes darting around, she found a quiet street and dipped toward it. Leaning against the brick building beside her, she caught her breath.

After a moment, she stood up a little straighter, brushing her skirt off. The street held a few people, but cats seemed to enjoy this area more than anyone else. Paige swallowed, gazing at a small, hairless kitten, cleaning itself on an old crate.

She took a few steps down the cobbled path. The road opened into an airy grass-covered landscape, where several tents sat, flags waving hello in the breeze.

She crept toward them.

She chose a dark green tent to hide in, the flap blowing gently, welcoming her inside. She hurried over and took a cautious peek inside. An old, tired-looking dog napped on the grass, snoring peacefully. She sighed and ducked under the flap.

Pulling the book from the folds of her apron pocket, she opened to a random page. She carefully brushed her fingers over the words, a shiver traveling up her spine. The words on the page rose and swirled at her touch, and the ink melted onto her arms. It rolled across her skin, filling her arms, her neck, her torso, and began to sink in, disappearing underneath her pale skin, coloring her veins black.

It tugged at her, and she willed herself to go slack as the ink drew her into existence. She didn’t like this part of traveling. Being filled with life, only to be hollowed out as she returned. Her eyes drooped and she watched as everything faded into a dark blur.

* * *

Paige awoke in a messy pile on her pale green bedspread. A headache tickled her temple, and her fingers trembled.

The book, Diamonds in the Ash, lay face down on the floor. She sat up, taking a few deep breaths. Always an experience, returning from a story. Everything looked watery, blurry around the edges, and the world became quiet and extremely loud at the same time.

It was a roller coaster. She wanted to experience it despite her heart racing the whole ride. And when it ended, she only wanted to do it again.

She got up, snatched the book, and set it on her desk. Her muscles screamed as she crept downstairs.

The sizzle of bacon and the smell of dark roasted coffee awakened her senses, solidifying her existence in the real world.

Paige’s mother whipped a bowl of bright orange yolks. Her father sat at the table, taking tiny sips of his steaming mug of coffee, morning paper in hand. He glanced up as she approached.

Hi, Paige, he said, looking up with a grin. How did you sleep?

I didn’t sleep. I was in a story for most of the night. Fine, she said, hugging herself.

You weren’t in a story all night, were you? her mother said, giving Paige a look. Her travels weren’t something they discussed often.

Uh…where’s Paisley? Can’t we talk about this later?

In the shower, her mother replied with a sigh. She poured the mixture into a hot pan. It sizzled as it hit the surface. "I was waiting for you to get back." She raised an eyebrow.

Paige bit her lip and nodded.

I want you to take Paisley to the bookstore. She has to get a gift for Hailey for her birthday.

Paige deflated. More people today, really?

You really think they should go by themselves? her father piped from behind his newspaper.

Why not? Besides, they’ll have each other, her mother replied. They need to get out, dear.

All right, if you say so.

Paisley came bouncing into the kitchen, her curls freshly blow-dried, springy, and sickeningly shiny. Are we going anywhere today? I’m up for an adventure.

Paige brushed past her, heading back upstairs. Mom wants us to go to the bookstore.

Paisley gasped. Right now? I wanna come!

I have to shower first, Paige replied, and started up the stairs. As she ran her hand along the well-worn banister, her eyes skimmed along the pictures on the wall. A family photo for every year, ever since Paige’s oldest sister Parker had been born. Memories are important, her mother always said. They’re what keep this family together.

Paige paused at their most recent photo from the Turner Christmas reunion. Aaron, Erica, Parker, Paige, and Paisley. All girls, all with the letter P. Her father’s idea, or so Paige was told. The lighting hadn’t been the best, made evident by the red-eye in Paige’s photo, marring her hazel eyes. Parker had insisted on making a goofy face, and somehow Paisley was always blurry, in any photo they took.

She smiled.

Her bed stood in disarray, blanket rolled into a slug-like lump and pillows on the floor. She quickly flattened it out and smoothed the wrinkles, tossing the pillows on. There. Now Mom won’t bug me. She grabbed her clothes and hurried to the bathroom.

Her eyes drooped as she stood beneath the hot water, letting it soak her bones. Sir Daniels’ wounded figure flashed in her head. Her heart thumped, quiet and sad. She reached outside the shower and dabbed her eyes with her towel, sniffling.

At a