InkDrinkers are spindly, mosquito-like creatures that swarm out from the Void in long, whining clouds. Drawn to anything written or printed, they alight on open pages and sink their needled mouths into the ink, draining sentences from the inside out. A library of theirs is a library of blank pages — unsigned letters, hollow songbooks, ledgers full of polite silences. Where the InkDrinkers feed, the Spirit of a place withers, and the brave folk who fight them learn quickly to carry sealed bottles, fresh quills, and stories worth shouting aloud.