A House Filled With Night

Niko had frozen the ballroom again.

Torin was hunched over on his knees, his brothers forcing his head to the ground as best as they could. Every now and then he would buck, almost like a bull, against their hold on him. There was no telling how much longer they could hold him down.

“What do we do?” cried Fiske.

“Casimir, do you have the eye covering?” asked Sylvain.

“Why the hell would I? This has never happened outside the House before!”

“Torin…please…” Niko’s voice strained with the force he had to exert to hold down his older brother.

“We need to stay calm,” said Sylvain.

“Calm? You mean right now, while Torin’s about to go full demon-eyes in the middle of a ballroom?”

“We can’t have Fiske fly him back like this, and in any case, you’d have to go with them too, Casimir.”

“I could try—” started Fiske.

Torin jerked up for a moment while everyone was distracted, and Fiske had to force his face into the ground once again.

“No,” said Sylvain. “We’ll go back the way we came. But it’ll be nearly impossible to reach the House like this before things get out of hand. Niko, could you keep Torin still for long enough?”

Niko looked uncomfortable with the idea, but nodded anyway. He put his hand on Torin until his struggling form went still. Then, he hauled his brother up and slung him over the shoulder as easily as if he did it every day.

“Alright,” Sylvain said. “Niko rides beside Torin. Runa, ride with me. Let’s get out of here.”

Runa followed them wordlessly. I just need to stay out of the way. We just need to get Torin home. Everything will be okay.

They said nothing as the left Lady Katrien’s manor. They said nothing as they rushed to their horses and mounted in an instant. They said nothing as they road through town, out into the countryside, over field, through forest, and up to the great gate of the House.

It struck Runa that they had forgotten to blindfold her on the way back. It hardly mattered; the night was too dark, and her mind was too frantic, to notice much of anything besides the pounding hooves and Torin’s limp body hanging across his horse’s back.

None of the brothers paid much attention to Runa as they entered the House. They didn’t pay much attention to anything at all. As they burst through the front doors, Lala growled and barked, shocked by the sudden, noisy intrusion. They swept past her without a glance in her direction, even as she whined and nipped at their heels.

They ran through hallways and down flights of stairs in a silent flurry. A voice in Runa’s head suggested they probably wouldn’t want her to follow. A much louder voice insisted that she needed to know what would happen to Torin; that she needed to know if he would be okay.

They arrived at an empty, dim room, the only light flowing from a small window cut into the ceiling. Runa backed herself into the farthest corner, too scared to get close but too scared to leave. Niko set Torin down near the center of the room. Casimir retrieved a dark ribbon from the floor. It looked like the night sky itself had been embroidered into the fabric.

“Someone get his hands,” he said.

“Hurry,” Niko grunted. “I can’t keep him like this much longer.”

Fiske pulled Torin’s arms behind him and snapped a shackle around his wrists.

“Hold his head up,” Casimir said. “I can’t get it on.”

“I’m losing him—”

With a gasp of from Niko, Torin’s head shot up, and his eyes snapped open.

Runa felt her heart stop. They weren’t Torin’s eyes anymore. They were filled with fifty colors she didn’t even know existed, swirling at an unbearable, maddening speed.

“Restrain him!”

Even with all the brothers holding him down, he jerked violently. His skin was changing, cracking like dust, whispers of black seeping through, trying to burst out.

“Keep him still!” shouted Casimir, struggling to get the silk ribbon over his face.

The glowing eyes were locked on Runa now. She realized, suddenly, that she was crying. Somehow, instead of screaming, instead of running, instead covering her head and hiding, she was just crying. This, she thought, was the darkness he tried to hide behind that bright smile of his. This was what he was so afraid of. Had he always lived this way? All this time, all his life? How did he survive this long?

After a fierce struggle, Casimir finally succeeded in securing the ribbon over Torin’s eyes. The black seeping through his skin receded into the cracks, and his brothers backed away. Torin’s movements slowed but did not stop. He still moved forward, but like one who was half-dead, struggling against the strain of the taught chain behind him.

The brothers collapsed on the ground, panting with relief in their breath.

“That was close,” said Sylvain.

“That was too close,” said Casimir.

“What is he going to say when he wakes up?” asked Niko.

“I don’t know…” Sylvain’s voice trailed off, and he paused. His head whipped over to Runa, suddenly aware of her presence in the room. “What are you doing here?”

They all turned to look at her, likewise surprised.

“She’s still here?” said Niko.

“Dang it…” muttered Casimir.

Fiske stood up and approached her. “Come on, Runa, let’s go—”

“No.”

“You shouldn’t have seen any of this in the first place—”

“I have to know if he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Casimir. “Torin wouldn’t want you here.”

“I’m not going,” Runa said, settling deeper into the wall. “Not until I see that he’s okay.”

Sylvain walked over to Runa and crouched down beside her.

“If you insist upon it, I won’t force you to leave. None of us have enough energy to kick you out, anyway. But Casimir’s right, Torin wouldn’t want you to see him. He might be upset when he wakes up. Are you sure you want to stay?”

Runa nodded, pulled her knees up to her nose, and wrapped her arms around them. Seeing her resolve, Sylvain gave up and sat down beside her. She said nothing, but subconsciously, scooted closer to him.

She just wanted this to be over. Torin’s trance-like state unnerved her. The way his body swayed forward, the way his arm stretched out, as if he were eternally trapped in some dark world. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it, and it made her feel trapped.

Fiske came over to sit with Runa and Sylvain, while the remaining two brothers settled down along the other side of the wall. They watched Torin silently, waiting for his restless night to end.

“What’s happening to him?” whispered Runa.

Sylvain sighed. “It cannot be explained.”

“It isn’t anything unusual for him,” said Casimir. “This has been happening to him ever since he was a kid. There’s nothing we can do but subdue it until it passes. I try to contain it by putting it to sleep, but it never completely stops. So he stays in this half-sleep until it passes.”

“What is it?”

“That’s the question.” He paused for a while, unsure if he should speak the words on the tip of his tongue. “All of us are messed up, but Torin…Torin was born out of a lot of pain.”

Runa wondered whether he would explain what he meant if she asked, but just then, Torin’s entire body slumped forward. He collapsed onto his knees, head hanging down. Fiske scrambled to his feet and removed the shackles. A few moments passed before Torin’s hands began to rise up to his face. He gripped the ribbon, tugged, and let it slip off. Two tears, black as a moonless night, streaked down his jaw. It had passed.

Before she could think better of it, Runa stood up and ran to him.

“Torin, are you okay? Do you—”

“Get her out of here,” he said quietly, not even looking up.

“I just wanted to—”

“I said, get her out of here.” His voice was icy. He turned away from her.

Despite his words, none of the brothers had even stood yet.

“Torin?”

He said nothing.

“…Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll go myself.”

She ran. She ran until she was out of the room, out of the hall, out of the House, and into the gardens. How she had finally, inexplicably found her way outside without even trying, she did not know. She laughed bitterly through her tears. So now you’ll let me go, will you?

She tore her way through brush and bramble, hardly caring which way she went. Her foot caught on a tree root, landing her face into the dirt. She groaned. It was tempting to just lie there, and never get up again. For a few minutes, that was exactly what she did.

Why did I follow them? Why did I stay? Why am I still here?

She pulled herself up. From where she sat, the wall of the House was visible through the trees. Perhaps it was finally time. They wouldn’t chase her if she left now. At least, Torin certainly wouldn’t.

Just as she was dragging herself up, a shadow of movement caught her eye. A rustle flitted across the trees and behind her. She whirled. A forest animal, perhaps? The branches above her head groaned, as if bearing weight upon themselves.

In the dimness, she gradually realized that something was winding around the trunk of a great tree, twisting it into a chokehold. Runa’s blood ran cold. It seemed to be a snake, or at least part of one—but a snake as wide as a human body, and as long as a river.

Runa knew she shouldn’t stay, but her entire body had gone rigid in terror. The leaves above were fluttering, shuddering, falling to the ground. The deep green tail end of the snake slid further up. Her eyes flew upward. Something was lowering itself out of the branches. It dipped, curved, and stood upright.

Suddenly, she found herself facing a beautiful, sinuous woman. Her face was dusty white in the moonlight, but her eyes glinted brightly. She smiled a ghastly smile, and slowly, provocatively, opened her mouth and licked the curve of her upper teeth. Slowly, horribly, Runa’s eyes travelled down the length of the woman’s body. Her stomach lurched. She had the body of a snake.

“These gardens are the same as they always were,” she mused, lowering her coils to get a better look around.

Runa shivered. Her voice didn’t sound like a woman’s at all. It was too smooth, like silk, and too sharp, like steel.

“Except—you’re new.” Her smile grew gleeful.

In that moment, Runa thought of hundreds of things to say: Who are you? What are you? Stay away. Get away. She said absolutely nothing.

The snake slipped to the ground, standing upright so that she towered over Runa. She stretched out her long neck and let out a sigh, as if she had only just woken up from a satisfying nap.

“His sons are here, aren’t they?” the woman asked, slithering closer. “Those fantastical little beasts. Where can I find them, hm? Tell me.”

Runa didn’t answer.

“You must be their new pet.” She chuckled. “They seem to be taking after their father after all.”

She neared enough to grasp Runa’s chin and lift it up. “What’s this? Are you shy?”

Runa wrenched away from her grasp and took a step backward. This is where you run. She glanced over her shoulder. There was a wall of trees. Had they been there before?

“Mm…it is good to see them growing up. How touching. Let’s get a better look at you, shall we?”

She was closing in on Runa, her hand outstretched, her beautiful, long fingers uncurling.

“Come now…”

Runa backed away. She saw a glimmer in the woman’s eye and heard the rustle of leaves. She fell backward.

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~ A/N ~

The only thing worse than snakes...women snakes.

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