Prologue
Death is not always the end of the road; death is not always the absence of life. Leaves. They spring forth from the branches of the trees they are born from and decorate the forest. When they die they fall to the ground, discarded by the thing that once gave them life. Shrivelled and wrinkled, coarse and breakable. And yet, there is life in them still; there is joy. All it takes is a gust of wind, a slight breeze or a forceful gale to lift them from the cold earth and carry them away, up into the air where they will dance. Oh, how they dance. Spinning and twirling with such grace, such freedom. Only when they have left life behind and been cut off from their roots, only once they have lost their connection to what gave them life, can they be free. Only then can they truly dance.
Have you ever watched the leaves dance through the forest? Katherine Knight has. Somewhere in the past she has her face pressed against a window pane, eyes darting around as she watches the leaves prance past. Somewhere deep in history, a little girl with a whole life ahead of her is standing on a creaky chair, little fingers gripping at the window ledge as she peers into the forest. Eyes that shine bright with curiosity and awe dim as terror fills them as the piercing voice of her mother rings through the air and bursts the bubble of tranquillity.
“Katherine! Get down from there at once!”
Ah, Madame Knight. Madame, not Mrs, not if you value your life. You might be tempted to assume that’s parental concern in Madame Knight’s tone, a worried mother scared of seeing her baby fall down. Don’t be fooled by her. Madame Knight is not a kind and loving woman; not half as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. If you can get past the statuesque figure, the flawless alabaster skin and the tumbling waves of soft golden hair, then you might start to notice the signs of the evil within. You only have to glance at her emerald eyes to see the cruelty in them, and sooner rather than later you’ll realise that rosebud mouth is perpetually twisted into a judgmental sneer. A sneer that is more often than not directed at her daughter for not behaving how little girls ought to behave. Quiet and meek, darling and sweet. It was the mantra Katherine was ordered to live by.
Katherine, like all children, didn’t want to live by rules or be stuffed into a box. She still had her sense of wonder and desire for adventure, no matter how hard her mother tried to scold it out of her. But all children grow up, and the young woman that Katherine Knight grows into is a far cry from the curious little girl who peers through windows to watch the leaves dance.
I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I? You’ll have to forgive me, it’s an unfortunate habit of mine. For all my knowledge, the concept of time and the way it moves is still confusing to me. It’s painful to tell a story from the beginning when you know how it plays out. I didn’t always know; if I had then there is so much I would have done differently. I guess we can all say that though, can’t we?
This is the story of Katherine Knight, of a town called Strangewood. This is a tale of magic and fate, of heroes and villains. This is the story of something wicked. I may know how the story unfolds, but not how it ends. That is something we shall have to discover together.
Sit up a little straighter, make sure your pillows are fluffed and the lights are bright enough. People have such bad habits when they read, and I would know. After all, I am The Librarian.
