A House Filled With Night

Staircase after staircase, Fiske and Runa descended deeper down into the belly of the House. Runa didn’t even know there could be this many floors. They must be miles underground by now. Each step plunged them farther into darkness. She almost forgot where she was, what she was doing, or why she had come. When Fiske stopped walking, she looked up from her feet in surprise.

“We’re here.”

The light of Fiske’s candle flickered against the polished wood of massive, oaken double-doors. Carved at its base was the image of a curled dragon, its tail flicking up the dust of the universe. Above it, at the center of the door, was a great eye, shining down onto the surface of the earth. When her eyes locked with that one, horrid eye, she felt every muscle go rigid. Would it be a bad time to tell Fiske she was having second thoughts? She shook her head.

“The library is right through those doors?”

“Yes, but, it’s more of a catacomb of libraries. There are six sections: the main hall, history, science, archives, a laboratory, and his personal study. He keeps—kept Celemine’s books in a trunk beside his desk in the study. I’m not going to question your bravery, but if I were you, I would just grab those and run.”

“Where’s the study?”

Fiske scratched the back of his neck and offered something like a smile, although it was really more of a grimace. “At the very back. But you won’t have to go through anything except the main hall. Just ignore all the doors to the right and to the left. Go straight for the back room.”

She nodded. “And…how will I know if I’ve encountered this thing you and your brothers spoke of?”

“It’s difficult to describe. You might not realize it at first. There’s nothing alive down there…but there is something. The best advice I can give you is to keep your mind clear and focused. Don’t let the fear get to you. Go in there, get the books, and come back.”

“And you’re sure that you can’t come with me?”

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.” He offered no explanation, just pressed the candleholder and a box of matches into her hand, lingering a moment to give her a reassuring pat. “You’re different. You’re stronger than me. You’ll make it out—I know it. I’ll be waiting right outside.”

Was he comforting her, or himself? This was one of many other questions she could ask. But eventually, she would run out of questions. Anything else she said at this point would just be stalling. It was time to go on.

She pried the doors open, fingers straining against their weight. One last look back at Fiske, and Runa slipped inside.

Something like a dry, hollow sigh echoed throughout the chamber as the wooden doors thudded closed. The darkness inside was so oppressive, she feared it would suffocate the tiny light of her candle in an instant. All she could see lay within a halo of yellow light, too feeble to even approach each corner of the room. A pathway of checkered tiles stretched out before her, receding into black. On the right and left were towering bookshelves, tapering up into an obscured ceiling. The floor was dusty, strewn with discarded books, shattered glass, crumpled paper, and wood splinters.

Every one of Runa’s steps fell carefully as she made her way through the large room. Shelf after shelf, the faded colors of leather-bound tomes floated past her eyes, their shimmering titles lingering in her mind. She kept a wary watch on both the right and the left; each time she turned one way or another, she dreaded what she might find once she looked, as well as what she might miss behind her.

The library was deep underground. All the Sons of Midnight slept, except for Fiske. The House was miles away from any people. But Runa already knew—that tightness in the pit of her gut assured her—that she was not alone.

Her steps echoed upon the floor, mingling with scuffles and reverberations until she doubted whether it was just echoes. On multiple occasions, she turned to the side, certain that she would find a rat or a beetle scampering across the floor. There was nothing.

She was beginning to believe the hall might go on forever. But gradually, the horizon revealed the beginnings of a wall, and finally, a door. This door, like the entrance, had an image carved into it: a pair of snakes wrapped around a tree, their fangs almost seeming to pop out of the woodgrains.

The hall had settled into relentless silence once again. Her hands rested upon the crack of the double doors, loathe to pry them open. She could still go back. Surely, she could make it back to the exit within moments if she ran. No one would blame her for abandoning this foolish mission.

Come and see.

It was not a voice, not even a whisper. It was a thought—a quiet, fragile thought, which slithered into her mind with all the smoothness of velvety water.

Runa opened the door.

If at all possible, it was even dustier inside, as if it hadn’t been disturbed in decades. It held bookshelves, boxes, trunks, trinkets, and a single desk. Every corner was packed tightly with books. These looked even more elaborate than those in the main hall; their titles embellished with gold filigree, their bindings sewn with jewels, their lettering in beautiful script of many languages, some unrecognizable and otherworldly.

What secrets are hidden here?

Her brow furrowed. Fiske had said Celemine’s books were in a trunk. There was no reason to look into the other books, but she couldn’t help wondering what was inside them. They were so beautiful.

She shook herself. There was no use for such things. Nothing would make any sense to her, anyway, even if she picked one in her own language. She had to find what she had come for.

But which trunk were Celemine’s books in? There were so many. She looked from one to the other, about to try for the one nearest to her, when she remembered: it was a trunk behind his desk. She hesitated. Something about the idea of going back there bothered her. But it was the reason she had come. She would grab it quickly and leave.

The chair of the desk squealed against the floor as it was pushed to the side. Cobwebs billowed in the air beneath the hollow of the desk. Runa coughed. Something square and black sat at the very back. She rested her candle upon the top of the desk and crouched down to crawl beneath. She did her best to assure herself that none of those itchy, crawly feelings against her skin were spiders, or cockroaches, or…something worse.

With a heave and a thump, the trunk landed on top of the desk. A thick, black cloth covered the surface of the trunk. It was heavy. Would she be able to carry it all the way back? Perhaps she should select a few important-looking books to take back, and leave the rest behind.

Look inside.

Runa whisked off the trunk’s covering.

Another cloud of dust flew into the air.

The light of the little candle flickered out, and it was black.

She panicked. Her hands fumbled through pockets, fingers curling around the tiny matchbox Fiske had given her. Her hands shook. It took several attempts to successfully get a match to light, then a minute longer to find the wick of the candle. She exhaled slowly as the glow of candlelight grew. In those few seconds, she heard a hundred unidentifiable whispers and felt a thousand unknown creatures wriggling at her feet. Every inch of her skin crawled. Every vein in her body swelled. Those few seconds in the darkness had terrified her like darkness had never terrified her before.

What a thrill!

The new flame revealed a redwood chest, inscribed with intricate patterns of fruit trees and serpents up and down the sides of its paneling. There was no lock at the latch. The lid creaked open, revealing a pile of old, fantastically decorated tomes. She stood staring at them for a moment, too chilled to reach out and grab one.

Wonders at your fingertips.

Finally, tremblingly, Runa pulled a book out. It was ancient, but solid; bound by a master, meant to last for ages. On its front cover was a large, twisted medallion of many colors. She opened it. The image of a dark figure writhed at the bottom of the page, throwing his head back, jaw opened wide. Out of the cavern of his mouth came swirling wisps of gold. The words at the top were written in deep red:

Worlds between worlds, darkness within darkness.

Here is the sap of life: here is the greatest power of the soul.

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~ A/N ~

Let’s hope Runa makes it out alive....

And I’m back! I don’t really feel like I did a great job of editing anything but at least I feel refreshed after a little break hahahaha.

Hope everyone is having a lovely summer :)

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