Prologue

~Death~

It has been many heartbeats since the day I greeted Liesel Meminger. I cannot give you a time frame, for the very concept of what humans refer to as 'time' holds no meaning for me. Days, weeks, months... All terms which serve purpose solely to those unburdened by immortality. The curse of everlasting life; my circular heart; eyes that have seen the world at its best and at its worst... Oh, if only you humans knew the true nature of what you pine after.

Every so often, I happen upon something that awakens me from the numbing sleep of existence. It gives me new purpose, strength. I suppose you humans would call it joy. Liesel's legacy, the worn black book, was one such antidote. The words flow through my charcoal veins, consuming me; sentences inked, unfading, across my inner eye. The book itself has lived a long life. You can see it in the crumbling, autumn pages and the faded handwriting that is, in places, almost illegible. Eventually it no longer served me purpose, however, for the book thief's story is inscribed upon my memory.

With this in mind, I have set it free. It has been an inexpressable comfort to me but, as with everything, it had to move on to pastures new. That is life. I have passed it on to Liesel's grandson, in the hope that her tale will take root in new minds. At the very least her grandson, who I believe goes by the name of Markus, will be able to make a connection with the ancestor he never had the chance to meet.