In my book Johnny Rikkens’ Fantastic Worlds, there’s a character called Jack Slade, and he has a unique tattoo. It’s not one made with dead ink, but with pure love and life.

Jack lost his fiancee, Margaret, during one of the last great battles of the Old World. When she was about to die, he cast a spell at her to transfer her life to his body, and in the form of a tattoo—an alive one!

This way, Margaret would be forever with him, inked in his skin, and still able to talk, express herself, and be close to her lover as long as he lived.

So, if I had to tattoo something in my body, I’d like to do it like Jack. And I’d tattoo the people I love minutes before their deaths. My dad would certainly be one of these tattoos, and I’d gladly have him forever living with me.

Here was how Margaret became an alive tattoo, a tattoo of pure love:

The battle was finally over, but not without leaving terrible consequences for many witchers and witches. One of them was Margaret. During the battle, she had suffered a mortal assault from the Zorkians while confronting them, and now her struggle hung in the balance, pitting her against the relentless grasp of death.

Jack Slade, her fiancé, cradled her in his arms as he looked for a secure place for them. Upon finding it, he gently laid her partially on the ground, his knees sinking into the earth as he encircled Margaret’s frail form with his arms. In the backdrop, the lingering wisps of battle smoke painted a somber tableau. “Margaret, Margaret! Hold on!” he implored, consumed by despair, his mind racing to unearth a way of reversing the lethal injury she had suffered.

Margaret gradually opened her eyes, a fragile glimmer of consciousness returning. “It’s the end, Jack,” she whispered softly, her finger tracing a path from his nose to his quivering lips. “I am dying. I can feel it.”

Jack vehemently shook his head, his eyes fighting back tears that had matured with the weight of sorrow. “No, you’re not,” he said. “There must be a way!”

Margaret’s demeanor assumed a fleeting, futile hope as she sought within her mind for a solution. She scoured her memories and tapped into her reservoir of wisdom, but found nothing that could make her escape her impending fate. Deep within her tormented soul, a fleeting illusion danced, briefly suggesting that everything would be fine, only to evaporate into the abyss. “My love,” she murmured, her hand brushing his cheek, “you know there is nothing we can do.”

Jack refused to conform to her cruel fate. “It cannot be!” He bit down on his lip, tears salting his mouth. “You promised me we’d grow old together!”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I know, my dear heart.” She gently pinched his ear. “But the end has arrived sooner than we expected.”

He wiped away his tears against his arm, resolute in his denial of the harsh reality. “No, it hasn’t,” he said, the lack of hope palpable in his words. “Do you remember…” He swallowed hard, attempting to bring a cherished memory that could dissipate the encroaching darkness from their souls. “Do you remember the day I proposed to you?”

Margaret let out a sigh, her eyes reflecting a sweet memory. “Of course! It was beautiful,” she said, a tender smile affirming her words.

Jack nodded slowly, his fingers intertwining with the dark tresses of her hair. “Do you remember the poem I composed for you?”

Margaret’s expression displayed a hint of surprise. “How could I ever forget it?” Her face briefly radiated with fondness. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

With tearful eyes, Jack began to recite the poem he had written to propose to her during their teenage years, both of them in their first and only love:

“I ever wanted to hold someone in my arms,

who would not break my heart.

Someone who I could love with no fear,

having not to pretend or keeping my feelings in secret.

A girl in whose eyes I could see my future,

making her my world at each of my gestures.

Never losing her from my life, even for an instant;

one second without you would be too much.

A woman to whom I could say, ‘I love you’

just a thousand times a day for countless years.

So the present could become a beautiful past,

and in the future, I could remember you by my side.

I want somebody to play the game of love

and bet my heart with no fear of making it burn.

But this game I don’t intend to win but to tie,

and so have you forever with me till I die.”

A sweet smile graced Margaret’s lips, momentarily overcoming the pain etched across her face. She gently caressed his cheek. “Didn’t I say this was the most beautiful poem in the world?”

He swallowed hard, his grasp delicate as he held her chin. “It’s just not as beautiful as the love I feel for you, honey.”

“Why is it so cold, Jack?” she said, her gaze drifting away, perhaps looking for the glorious face of the Manah Guardian.

Jack felt as though the very ground beneath him was crumbling away. “Darling, hold on!”

His plea was futile. She succumbed to unconsciousness, her body empty of will, her head lolling beneath his trembling hand. In desperation, he attempted to rouse her, shaking her gently and crying out her name, but all in vain; her life was slipping away with each fleeting moment.

With a heavy heart, Jack gently laid her head on the ground and, with no other recourse, invoked his book, “Names of Manah,” from his damaged left bracelet, and his staff from his right one. He was fully aware that what he was about to do might not be the best solution, but there was no other means to save Margaret’s life and keep her forever by his side. His book opened to page 568. With a degree of hesitation, he recited the enchantment inscribed there.  “Vertar ut shinnin vai inne pilel lo parter virthar.”

A spell emanated from his staff, enveloping Margaret’s form, and she gradually began to disintegrate into fragments of light. These fragments flowed directly into Jack’s skin, where she materialized as a living tattoo, inked by love and magic.

As the transfer of her life was completed, Jack gazed at his left arm, where she now rested, peacefully recovering from the pain she had endured. Now, she was safe and would live forever, near as never to Jack Slade, her eternal love.

Margaret had one last chance to continue living, a chance unlike that of many witchers and witches who were destined for a somber, cold, and silent end. These were loyal apprentices of Bhravegarv, forever to be remembered for their bravery and their sacrifice in protecting the Old and New worlds from Maliccia’s cruelty—a sacrifice they also made for the sake of their children’s future.

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It has been really hard to keep writing while going through this phase of my life. So please, hit the like button to let me know my efforts are not in vain and also for me to notice you stopped by.

Thank you very much, and happy reading!