A darkened sunset had almost completely covered the skies now, though you couldn't see it well from the barely written world. Only the ground was firm under the frustrated writer's feet. A small silhouette of the glass man, Ironstone, was running towards the silhouette of his master. "Master?" he seemed to pant. The color of the glass man was now a very dull one. Ironstone himself did not like being this color. "What do you want, Ironstone?!" Orpheus snapped. "I thought you were supposed to be stealing writing material for me!?"

Ironstone curtly bowed his head. "Most certainly." He sighed. "I just had an ide-"

"And just because you have an idea, you should stop working!?" Orpheus grabbed the glass man tightly. "You'll be lucky if your idea is any good, I could throw you out the window right now!" Ironstone nodded. He wondered if this was what his brother, Jasper, felt like in the presence of Orpheus. "You are mad at the Bluejay… for killing the Adderhead and driving you out…"

"You are only telling me things that I already know!" Orpheus dropped the glass man onto the rotting wood table he was working at. Ironstone brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder and continued. "They are quite peaceful now; it has been about a year after all." Orpheus tried hard not to get angry at Ironstone. At least, not yet. "You could easily plan a surprise attack and gain your position back." Orpheus liked how Ironstone thought sometimes. The only problem was that Ironstone never thought things through. "And how are we supposed to do that, when we barely have a world to stand upon?" Ironstone nodded. "I could easily steal some of Fenoglio's writing to… support you, if you wish."

Orpheus chuckled darkly. "And you think that will help?" Ironstone shrugged and slowly backed up. If his master was going to be in wrath, he didn't want to go near him. Ironstone slowly nodded. "You have been having a little trouble, writing up this new world." Ironstone shook warily about his words. Orpheus glared silently at the glass man, but kept his temper down. "You could use his words to make a world even better than his. Then, you can stealthily build an army…"

Orpheus still grimaced, but an evil smile was subduing him on the inside. Orpheus grabbed Ironstone once more. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?!" Orpheus had to admit, it was fun to see Ironstone tremble at his grasp sometimes. "I-I thought it would be better when the people of the Inkworld," (Dare he say that name in his master's presence.) "Seem peaceful enough to not expect the attack, master." Now a dark grin spread across Orpheus' wide face. "You're lucky that it is a good plan, Ironstone," Ironstone gulped. "If I didn't have a better instinct, I'd throw you at a lion." Orpheus gently set Ironstone down and then turned. "This is brilliant! I could rule this world and Fenoglio's!" The wood clunked beneath Orpheus as he started to pace in thought around the pathetic, tiny room.

"The Bluejay could be the 'hero' to Fenoglio's world, but he will be destroyed under my palms!"

"Um… master?" Orpheus turned abruptly and frowned. "Can't you see I'm busy in plot?" Ironstone nodded. "Yes, but as I do steal away in the… in Fenoglio's world, I hear rumors. The Bluejay is retired."

An explosion of anger spread through Orpheus. "He can't be retired! Who can he be?" Ironstone rose from his position and leaped onto another countertop. "He wishes to be called the name he was born with, master, Mortimer. He wishes to stay a simple bookbinder."

Orpheus stomped his foot heavily. "I must make him fight!" But will he really be threatened by someone who can't think up an effortless sky? "Out of suggestion, again, maybe you could make another soul the hero, one who the Bluejay cannot turn down to fight with." A short moment passed as Orpheus thought. Now, who am I mad at AND who the Bluejay will fight for? Orpheus, now more lightly, paced around the room again. Ironstone watched him, as still as a statue, with wide eyes.

"Ah-hah!" Orpheus shouted. Ironstone leaped in surprise. "The Bluejay may be retired as it is, but I know one name that this soul can never retire from…"

"Who sir?" Orpheus smirked. "Now, whom do we hate? Who turned his back on me when I did something for him that he is grateful for?"

Ironstone's glance lowered, in shame that he had no clue who his master was talking about.

"Fire-Dancer, you moron!" Ironstone smiled darkly. "He is quite unaware." Orpheus rushed to his desk once more. "Fetch me some parchment, I must begin immediately!" In a matter of moments, Ironstone ran into a cupboard and ran back to his master with his arms full of new parchment. Orpheus grabbed a piece from Ironstone's grasp and flattened it out in front of him.

The darkened soul of Orpheus dipped the pen into the inkwell and placed it onto the parchment. The new sky was filled of a blurred dusk that was now taking over both of the neighboring worlds. A pile of gleaming armor shone brightly in the moonlight. The armor was for an army that was only to be soon built. As the souls of the new, strong warriors were conjuring, the heart of the Inkworld's hero was beating in fear…

Ironstone's eyes widened in building excitement.

Though Orpheus' words were becoming true around him and the small glass man, they knew not that their chosen hero was prepared. Their chosen 'hero' did not know this yet, but his soul was truly ready for fulfilling a prophecy yet to be bestowed upon him.