Inkblood
Disclaimer: Inkheart belongs to Cornelia Funke. Not me.
And yes, the title is from the second book (The original title was Inkblood. I don´t know why it was changed to Inkspell)
I
He eyed the little bottle. It sat on Silvertongue´s desk. It contained ink.
He had done it again, he had visited Silvertongue. Begged to bring him back. To no use.
He believed Silvertongue when the man said that he couldn´t read him back.
There was no lie on Silvertongue´s face. The man couldn´t lie, you see it immediately.
On Silvertongue´s face there was regret. Sorrow. Pain. And the pity.
He couldn´t stand the pity. Anything, but the pity. He was real. He was there. He was alive.
I am not a novel figure you brought to live. I am real. I am me.
I am more than words, more than paper and ink. I live, I breathe, I am here. Stop pitying me!
I lost a whole world, everything. But I am still here. I am willing to fight for a place in this world. And if there is none, I will make one. I won´t back down. I will fight!
He looked at the bottle of ink on the desk. I am more than this.