Some claim Inklace is nothing more than a story the lanterns tell each other.
A tiny creature said to appear only after someone has followed them far enough.
Far enough from the paths.
Far enough from the maps.
Far enough that the Conservatory begins revealing secrets it was never meant to share.
Few descriptions of Inklace agree.
Some speak of silver freckles.
Others describe plum-colored markings hidden among the shadows.
Many insist her eyes seem far too large, as though she is studying something just beyond sight.
One detail, however, appears in nearly every account.
A question.
Those who encounter Inklace often report the same strange feeling:
The certainty that she is waiting for an answer.
Not an answer she intends to give.
An answer she wishes to hear.
What she asks changes from one account to the next.
Yet the question always feels oddly familiar.
As though it belonged to the visitor long before it belonged to her.
Some believe this is why the lanterns continue drawing travelers deeper into the Conservatory.
Others believe the lanterns are simply curious what answer Inklace will receive next.
No verified sightings have been recorded.
Yet new accounts continue to appear.
And in nearly every report, one final detail remains unchanged.
Those who claim to have met Inklace rarely remember the question.
Only the feeling that they should have known the answer.
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Field Note Addendum: A recent sighting has been reported near the shelves of forgotten botanical records. The witness declined to share the question they were asked.
