Entering Inkheart

It was only when Prosper was back in the safehouse, sitting on Rex Austin's safe bed did he really consider the consequences of his actions.

He had gone out into Rex Austin's house. To fetch a book. All because he was bored.

Needless to say, Prosper immediately regretted his decision. He couldn't believe that he had given in to his weakness. He should have had the strength and self-discipline to stay put. He was doing this for his own survival after all, and survival came before all other things, even his own mental well-being.

Right?

Furthermore, there was the matter of the book. Another moment of weakness that was on full display as it sat on the bed right next to him. While Prosper could easily delete any security footage of his escape around the house, there would be no hiding the spot where the copy of Inkheart had been. Dust was all over the library. Even if he hid long enough for dust to accumulate in that spot again it would stand out as being thinner and younger than the dust around it.

In other words, he had given any potential police evidence that he was here.

Prosper groaned into his hands. These truly were the worst days of his life and even he couldn't deny he was losing his touch. He couldn't even return the book, not if he didn't want his fingerprints to be discovered.

Prosper moaned. He cast a glance at the worn green volume. It seemed to be taunting him, making fun of his incompetence. But it was also taunting him with something else. The promise of a world where he didn't have to think about his hopeless situation, where he could find heroes and villains to identify with and relate to.

Well, there was no point in taking a book out of the library if he wasn't going to read it. And his despair was already so great, it wouldn't hurt to cram a shred of joy into his life. So, with a sigh, Prosper picked up his copy of Inkheart, cleared his throat, and began to read.

Now, if you asked Prosper English that day or any day after that up until the day he died why he read the book aloud he wouldn't have been able to tell you. Perhaps it was the dead silence of the safehouse that sparked a desire in him to hear another human voice, even if that voice was his own. Maybe he thought that by reading aloud it would help his scattered mind to better understand the story. Or, possibly, he read aloud just because he could, as there was no one around to tell him to just shut up and read it in his head. It doesn't really matter why.

All we know for sure is that Prosper's, at first, half-hearted reading of Inkheart evolved into something more sincere as he became increasingly more enthralled with the story. Maybe it all was just a symptom of him losing his mind but Prosper found Inkheart to be incredibly well written for a childrens' book. It was no wonder that every child in Britain had read and loved this story.

Gradually, memories of reading the book as a child returned to Prosper and he began to anticipate events in the story. Bit by bit, Prosper's voice became fuller and louder as he ventured deep into the world of Inkheart, until he barely registered that he was reading aloud anymore. More and more his voice shifted to fit the characters until it felt that they were there, speaking to him in that godforsaken safe room. He began to pace the room. He read until his throat went dry and then he read some more. He read for hours and hours, until his miserable world melted away into nothingness.

Literally.

It was only when the sound of the wind rustling the deep green leaves filled his ears and the sight of the twisty old trees of the Wayless Woods entered his vision did Prosper English stop reading.

Not that he could have continued, for the book was no longer in his hands. But that was beside the point.

Prosper spun around confused. What on Earth? How was it that one moment he was trapped in Rex Austin's sterile bland safehouse, and the next he was in the middle of this lush green forest?

That's when a bright blue flash of light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Prosper looked on incredulously as a small blue fairy fluttered in the air carrying a bundle of weeds. He watched in astonishment as it deposited the weeds in a nest on the branches of a particularly twisty tree.

Of course, thought Prosper, I must be in a dream.

Now, another symptom of Prosper's old age was the fact that he wasn't quite familiar with things such as the isekai genre of anime or the concept of a silvertongue. Therefore, he considered the concept of being transported to and from a fantasy world as pure fiction and an event that only happened to particularly whimsical children such as the Pevensie children in The Chronicles of Narnia or Alice from Alice in Wonderland.

So, while it seems rather obvious to us that Prosper's voice had read him into the Inkworld, it would be very hard to blame Prosper for coming to the conclusion that he came to.

For him there could be no other explanation for the fairies and his sudden appearance in The Wayless Wood. After all, it was a very common occurrence in dreams to be in one place and then suddenly show up in another, with no transition or explanation.

Well, if I'm dreaming and aware of it, thought Prosper, then I must be lucid dreaming, then. Yes, lucid dreaming. The state of being aware you were asleep while you were dreaming. This possibility excited Prosper. You see, the wonderous thing about lucid dreaming was that, once you figured out how to do it, you could have full control of your dreams. Your conscious mind could manipulate your unconscious mind to create any possibility.

Now, Prosper just like many of us had become aware that he was in a dream several times throughout the years, but he had never had the chance to manipulate them to his liking, for the moment he became even somewhat conscious the dream would break apart like a piece of tissue paper.

This time, however, his dream was holding steady. He could take himself anywhere, summon anything, perform any action. He could fly hundreds of feet in the air, or visit Hogwarts, or have tea with Galileo. He could even wake himself up if he wanted.

But why would he do that when he had nothing to look forward to in his waking life? Back in the real world only Rex Austin's safe house, months spent in hiding and the act of drinking away his sorrows awaited him. He had been silently praying for escape, and didn't this particular dream provide just that?

Prosper wasn't sure how time worked in dreams, but he was pretty sure that by the time he woke up no more than eight hours would have passed in the waking world. Hopefully by the time he woke up in Rex Austin's house he'd be better equipped to handle another day of protecting his assets and evading the authorities.

Prosper looked about himself. He was still wearing the same corduroys and knitted jumper he had been wearing when he fell asleep. His gold rimmed spectacles were still perched firmly on his nose. All around him little blue fairies fluttered, and old trees twisted and turned. The woods around him were filled with the sounds of unfamiliar life.

Well, it's not as if the waking world has anything particularly good for me to wait for, Prosper thought as his dark eyes surveyed his surroundings. I suppose I could stay in this dream.

And with that, Prosper English set off into the Wayless Woods, examining with interest all the things he had convinced himself had been conjured by his subconscious.

Not once did the story he had just been reading, the story he had been utterly absorbed in just moments ago occur to him. He had no idea that he was within the world of Inkheart, fully conscious as he traversed through it, and it would be ages before the possibility would even cross his mind.

As Prosper's "dream" continued on, his enchantment gradually withered away into frustration. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried he just could not get his dream to bend to his will.

By now, night was falling over the Wayless Woods and Prosper had spent the whole day failing at various attempts to control the giants and fairies surrounding him or to straight up magic himself someplace else.

Prosper had even made an attempt to fly. He had naïvely thought it would be easy enough. After all, wasn't flying the first thing people thought to do when they discovered they were in a dream?

But Prosper's attempts at flight never did work out. After determining that simply jumping up in the air and flapping his arms wouldn't work (He knew it would make him look like a fool but there was no one else to see and it was his dream so there!) Prosper made like the young birds and tried to fly like jumping off a tree. This, like all his other experiments had failed and Propser had been left with a limp in his left leg and a feeling of bitterness.

How was he supposed to summon Galileo for an afternoon tea if he couldn't even figure out how to fly.

The simple answer was that he couldn't.

Lucid dreaming wasn't nearly as fun as he thought it would be.

With the way his luck was going, Prosper worried he wouldn't be able to light a fire that night. Once again, he was proven wrong. The only difference was that this time that turned out to be a positive thing.

Prosper pondered his situation as he huddled by his little fire. He wanted to wake up now. Sure, he didn't have anything to live for in the waking world but at least he had access to clean water and food, not to mention electricity. Prosper hated Rex Austin's house with a passion but even he knew it was better to have a roof over your head than to wander the wilderness alone at night, surrounded by poisonous berries.

And there was certainly no point remaining in a lucid dream you couldn't control.

Surely, if there was one thing he'd be able to do in this dream, it would be to wake up from it. Right? Prosper shut his eyes and covered his ears so he wouldn't see a single sight or hear a single sound.

I want to wake up, he thought. I want to wake up.

Prosper repeated the words over and over again until it became a prayer. Until the words began to sound strange and alien in his mind. He curled his toes and fingers, held his breath, whispered the words aloud. He even started adding a please at the end which was a word he didn't use very often. But it was no use. When Prosper opened his eyes and uncovered his ears he remained huddled in the Wayless Woods, sitting in the dark, his little fire crackling in front of him.

At first, Prosper could do nothing but stare at his surroundings incredulously. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. And now he knew that there was nothing he could do about it. He had no control over his own dream. No control over his own mind. He had trapped himself in a subconscious prison from which he had no escape.

Suddenly, Prosper burst into a fit of mirthless laughter. He couldn't help it. The very idea of what was happening to him. It was so unbelievable and crazy and insane and yet here he was experiencing it in surround sound and 4K with the added benefits of 3D and smell-o-vision. He had trapped himself in his own dream. He didn't even know one could do that.

Well, this was it, then. Prosper had officially gone mad. He had lost it. Gone off the deep end. And it had all happened within his own mind. Tears joined his fit of mad laughter. He was sure that he couldn't have looked more insane if he had been sprayed with a can of laughing gas. It got so bad and violent that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't-

Crack!

The sound of a twig snapping stopped Prosper's mad laughter. The entire forest seemed to have gone quiet. Not a cricket chirped. Not a wolf howled. Hadn't Prosper read somewhere that a quiet forest meant that a predator was on the hunt nearby? Could they see his fire? Maybe he should put it out?

"Hey! You!" Prosper jumped and spun around. There standing behind him was a short man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a narrow face. His thin lips formed a scowl. "You're not Firefox!"

"Firefox?" Prosper repeated, puzzled. For a split second he wondered if this mysterious stranger could see the tear streaks on his cheeks. He hoped not.

"Damn it." The stranger said. "I knew this wouldn't work. I told him there was bound to be at least one other person in the forest that night, lighting a fire. Oh, why did it have to be fire anyway?"

"Whose Firefox?" Prosper demanded, standing up. "And what's all this about lighting fires?"

The stranger turned around and stared at Prosper. It seemed that he was noticing him for the first time. "Who are you?" he finally spat.

"I ought to be asking you the same thing," Prosper said, putting his hands on his hips. For a moment the two stared each other down, suspicion laced in all of their features. It would be a third party that would eventually break the silence.

"Basta! Where have you been!?" Both men whipped their heads around to see a man with red hair and freckles emerge from the darkness. He wore an eccentric fur coat and a scowl much more ferocious than his associate's.

"Do you know how late it is!?" scolded the newcomer as he shouted at the dark-haired man. He towered over his opponent which made him very intimidating indeed. "Capricorn wanted us back at the fortress by sundown! It's almost midnight!" Firefox pointed at the moon to highlight his point.

"Well, I'm sorry if I got a little turned around." The shorter man said, crossing his arms. "It was you who insisted on going through the Wayless Woods when we could have just as easily gone via the coast."

"We could not have gone just as easily via the coast. Lombrica's got spies there. Especially at the Barn Owl's which is right by the ocean! You just didn't like my plan because you're afraid of the nightmares."

"Am not!" Basta shouted, but as he did so he clutched the rabbit's foot that hung around his neck.

As the two men argued, Prosper watched from the sidelines, slowly piecing the information together. Capricorn? Basta? Firefox? Lombrica? The Barn Owl? He had heard all those names before. But where?

I've got it, Prosper thought to himself. Capricorn, Basta, Firefox, and the Barn Owl were all characters in Inkheart. And Lombrica was one of the two kingdoms in the story. The other being Argenta where all the aforementioned characters lived.

So, Prosper hadn't just trapped himself in any dream. He had trapped himself in a dream about the book he was reading when he fell asleep.

This epiphany actually reassured Prosper. Suddenly all the giants and fairies made sense. He didn't know anything about survival in the woods, but he did know a lot about the world of Inkheart. Prosper was confident that he could navigate it, especially since he had just spent hours upon hours reading about it.

"Whatever. None of that matters now." Said Firefox. "Right now, we need to deal with him." Firefox pointed to Prosper.

"Me?" Prosper asked.

"Yes you." Basta said with a smug smile on his face. "We've just had a whole conversation about our plans to you. We can't let you escape after hearing that." As Basta said this, Firefox pulled out a set of chains. Uh oh, Prosper thought.

Prosper tried to make a break for it but his fitness and intelligence could hardly make up for his limp, poor mental state, age, and general exhaustion and within a minute he had been captured by the comparatively less competent Basta and Firefox.

"And don't bother running away." Basta said as he held a knife to Prosper's throat. "Because if you do, I won't hesitate to slit your throat."

"Alright. That's enough with the threats, Basta." Firefox said. "Let's get to Capricorn's before he hangs us."

In Inkheart, Capricorn's fortress was described as follows:

A dark and foreboding structure rose from the ground, a shadow looming over the Wayless Woods. All around it was an aura of fear and hatred, stifling out any thoughts of happiness or hope one might have felt before. This area of the Wayless Woods seemed to be darker and quieter than any other, the shadows filled with wolves or night-mares ready to devour you whole. The stone towers looked strong and impenetrable as they seemed to reach up to the stars. Especially the tower that held Capricorn's chambers. The tallest of them all.

While reading, Prosper had found this description to be absolutely exceptional. He couldn't deny that the author of Inkheart had a way with words and he had felt as if he was right there at Capricorn's fortress with the characters. But even the phenomenal voice of Inkheart's author hadn't been able to do it justice.

He had left out how the fortress dwarfed the old and wise trees of the Wayless Woods. He had forgotten the part about how the fortress was just as black as the night so when you looked up at it, it was as if there was a piece of the sky where the stars were missing. He had neglected to mention that when light did fall on the red banners of the fortress it looked as if rivers of blood were pouring down from its towers.

The entire structure was an awesome, bone chilling spectacle that sent an almost primal shiver of fear down Prosper's spine. But with that sense of fear also came a faint sense of excitement and curiosity.

Capricorn had been a vicious villain in the book. Even more so than The Adderhead, the evil tyrant he worked for. A part of him couldn't help but look forward to meeting the legendary character.

Firefox, Basta and the rest of the Fire-Raisers led Prosper and a horde of other prisoners through the front gates and into the courtyard. Even inside the fortress all was dark and quiet, the only light coming from the torches of the Fire-Raisers and the silver moon. Only one person was still up and about at this hour, standing on the balcony of the tallest tower, gazing down at his followers and prisoners like a king.

Once in front of Capricorn, everyone bowed down. Prosper followed their example with one key difference. Where everyone, including Basta and Firefox kept their eyes to the ground, Prosper peeked up at Capricorn through the top of his eyes. What he saw took his breathe away.

Once again, the words of the book could only do so much when you compared it to seeing someone in person. Capricorn's skin was as pale as snow as was his short hair and silver eyes. He wore a long red robe, the same red that hung on the walls of his fortress and made Prosper think of fresh blood. He walked with an air of superiority, as if he knew he was the scariest and most formidable thing in the world.

"Firefox." Capricorn spoke. His voice was soft and silky like a fresh sheet, tight enough around your neck to suffocate you and it sent shivers of fear and excitement through Prosper's spine. "Are you aware of what time it is?"

"Yes, sir." Firefox said, his head still bent down low.

"Then hopefully you can tell me what kept you all out past dinner, past curfew and past midnight?"

"Um…" Firefox began but it was clear that he didn't have a good answer. For ten seconds silence reigned until Capricorn spoke up again.

"When I give out orders, Firefox, I expect them to be carried out exactly as I say. That means carrying them out in an orderly manner. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Firefox mumbled.

"I said, do I make myself clear?" Capricorn repeated more forcefully.

"Yes, sir." Firefox said, loud and clear.

"Very well. Firefox, you will report to my chambers at sunrise tomorrow morning. The rest of you will be told your punishment after breakfast. Now off to bed."

"But what about the prisoners?" Basta protested.

"Basta," Capricorn said as he turned his piercing white gaze to his inferior. "Do you think I need your help to handle a horde of peasants?"

Basta bowed his head. "No sir." He said.

"Know your place, Basta. Now off to bed, all of you or I'll throw you all in the dungeons as your punishment." With that, the Fire-Raisers scrambled off to their private chambers, leaving the prisoners to fend for themselves.

"Now, let's see what we have here." Capricorn said to no one in particular. He descended the stairs to his chamber with the utmost grace as if he was royalty himself. Within moments, Capricorn was standing directly in front of the prisoners. A suffocating silence and chill descended upon the horde as he inspected each prisoner one by one.

The first person to take his fancy was a girl with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a tear-streaked face. Capricorn grabbed her by the chin and tilted her face up at his, so she was forced to make eye contact.

"Well, you're a pretty one." He murmured. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"I-I-Irum." The girl said, so softly it was almost a whisper. Her voice was husky, no doubt because of the tears she had been crying.

"Irum." Capricorn repeated, the ghost of a smirk forming on his lips. "You have a lovely name, Ms. Irum."

"I think you would fit in with the rest of the maids, very well, don't you?" Capricorn asked this question with a taunting voice because he knew Irum could give no real answer. Sure enough, the girl only stammered in response. Tears formed in her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

"Don't worry, my precious." Capricorn purred. "You may have to spend tonight in the dungeons, but rest assured you will soon get your own bed in the servants' quarters." With that, Capricorn dropped the girl's face and pondered the rest of his prisoners.

The second person to catch Capricorn's eye was a boy who couldn't have been any older than seven years old. His brown hair was matted, and tears flowed freely from his bright green eyes. "What are you so blue about?" Capricorn asked him in a horrible mockery of paternal concern. Just like the girl, the boy was too scared to answer. Capricorn leered at him and said, "Don't worry. In just a few days you'll be able to burn off all that fear and anger you feel." With that, Capricorn continued on.

With each step Capricorn made he came closer and closer to Prosper. Prosper's intention had been to simply let Capricorn pass. After all he didn't want to stay a prisoner in Capricorn's fortress for the foreseeable future. The best way to achieve that would be to avoid drawing attention to himself. But when Capricorn passed over him, Prosper made a fatal mistake. He looked up at Capricorn just as he had been examining him. And the two made eye contact.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Capricorn asked as he knelt down to look Prosper in the eye. "Looks like another brave soul who thinks he can intimidate me? Let's see…" Capricorn took Prosper's face in his hands. "You look to be about forty-five. Fifty. Are you a father? Or even a grandfather perhaps?" Capricorn rose, a smirk on your lips. "You mustn't be too overconfident, sir. Or mark, my words your children will suffer for it."

Capricorn's comment knocked the breath out of Prosper. It turned his cheeks hot and colored his face red.

Back in the waking world, where Prosper was in charge, everyone within his empire had known there were certain subjects that were simply out of bounds. Subjects that weren't to be used for ammunition in insults, as an argument in debate or as a topic of conversation in small talk. Such subjects weren't even to be alluded to. Prosper had forbidden himself to even think of such things.

But Capricorn, in his quest to intimidate and humiliate had brought this subject up and out into the light for god and everyone to hear. And he would not tolerate it. Just because he wasn't in the waking world, and just because he wasn't in charge didn't mean he wouldn't demand basic respect.

So, he fired back with a similarly forbidden subject.

"Oh please. Of all the people to lecture me about parenting I hardly think you'd be the most qualified." Prosper spat. "Your father was nothing was nothing but a dirty, cheating cobbler who beat his son black and blue. Unless your goal is to follow in his footsteps you can hardly call him a good example."

The prisoners fell dead silent. All the quiet weeping and praying screeched to a halt. In the silence it seemed as if the Wayless Woods had fallen silent, as if the wolves and bears themselves couldn't believe that someone had spoken to Capricorn in such a way.

Speaking of Capricorn, for just a moment his defenses came down as a look of shock and rage passed over his snow-white face. But within a few seconds it faded away, and the leader of the Fire-Raisers assumed his impassive expression once again. He turned to the guards who were standing watch on the nearest tower.

"Cockerell. Slasher. Take these prisoners down to the dungeons. Then wake up Flat Nose and Humpback so they can assume your positions." Then Capricorn pointed to Prosper English. "And make sure you put this one in the darkest, smallest cell you have."

"I'm going to have a word with him tomorrow."

Author's Note: Ta-Da! The first two chapters! If you feel so inclined, please like and review I would appreciate it immensely. Anyway, see you guys soon! Goodbye!