Carved from cold and cunning craft, a sleek sliver that slices shadows, whispered by witches in the heart of night.

We're no punching bags, but you're expected to hit us. If we slide silently past, there will be consequences. Some things can provide the ultimate consequence, But to describe those, you'll need to tack on an 's'.

I have no voice and yet I speak to you, I tell of all things in the world that people do. I have leaves, but I am not a tree, I have pages, but I am not a bride or royalty. I have a spine and hinges, but I am not a man or a door, I have told you all, I cannot tell you more. What am I?

I steal your looks but leave your pockets full. I copy you perfectly, yet never learn a thing. I've solved more riddles than any hero ever has, and somehow I'm STILL the answer. You're already thinking of me - don't pretend you're not...

Many things am I, the foundation of many parts of life, in and outside the body, I make buildings steady, swords strong and when I decay red is all that's left.