A House Filled With Night

Runa did her best to look sleepy as Torin led her to her bedroom. She had asked for his help finding it, partially because she didn’t want to risk wandering around in the House again, and partially so he could see her go into her room and “go to bed.”

“Here it is,” he said, stopping in front of her door.

“Thank you,” she yawned the word out. “Oh, excuse me.”

Torin laughed and reached out to pat her head. “Looks like you need an early bedtime tonight. Don’t worry while we’re gone. We should be back before you wake up.”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

Why did she feel a little guilty?

The uncomfortable feeling lingered in her chest after Torin left, but she knew she had no time to waste. She would wait with her ear to the door until the sound of his steps disappeared. Then it was time to get to work.

Silence came at last. Runa ran to the window. At last, carefully, she pulled the knife out of her bodice. She almost wondered if it would still be there, or if it was just another illusion created by the House. It gleamed in the moonlight as she turned it around in her hands. It was real enough.

She set to work on the window. She quickly found that it could not simply be pried open, but might be sawed open eventually. It was tedious work, running the knife back and forth along the seam at the bottom. As she sawed, Runa did her best to ignore the growing suspicion that the House was responding to her actions. It was probably her imagination when she thought she felt the window frame tremble at her touch. And it was definitely just the creak of old wood she had heard a moment before.

Almost an hour had passed by the time she saw her knife poke through the window to the other side. She held in a squeal of delight. After running the knife back and forth along the bottom, she tucked the knife into her pocket, grabbed the handle at the bottom, and pulled up with all her might.

A dreadful, reverberating groan echoed through the walls, making Runa pull back in horror. She watched as shimmering threads of liquid slithered through the woodgrains of the open window frame and dripped down to the ground below. She tried to shake the feeling that the House was bleeding.

The cold air had started to float in through the opening, making her feel even more jittery. She looked around the room for something to use as a rope. Bedsheets might not be the best, but they seemed to be the only option. It took a while of rifling through drawers to find enough sheets for a rope, then about five layers of knots around the leg of a wardrobe to make her confident it wouldn’t come loose while she climbed down.

Runa stood finally, looking toward the rope leading down the window, to freedom. Was there anything to take with her? No, she had come with nothing, and that was how she would leave. Anything she might steal would probably end up cursing her someday.

It was time to go. Time to go and never, ever come back. She peeked outside the window one last time. The House seemed so empty, but somehow she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. This was the best chance she would ever have. She had to take the risk.

With a heavy release of breath, she grasped the knotted bedsheets as tightly as she could and began to make her way down. Her fingers burned and trembled with the strain of holding on. More than once, she felt the sheets give just a little. By the time she reached the ground, she had found a renewed appreciation for it.

Now the courtyard spread out ahead of her. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder repeatedly. No one was following her.

Through winding pathway and tangled garden, Runa made her way toward the wall of the house. On her right and her left, strange shapes shifted in the shadows. But she refused to look at them. She set her eyes upon the wall and ran toward it with all her might. She could see it growing taller and taller as she neared. She felt the rising elation of freedom bubbling up in her chest.

Soon, the doors of a large gate became visible. Their size might make them difficult to get open, but she would find a way. Turning back now was not an option.

She rushed forward—and suddenly tripped, falling backwards.

A squeak of shock escaped her lips. She quickly covered her mouth, looking around to see if someone heard. No one was there.

She scratched the back of her head. What had she just bumped into? Dusting herself off, she stood and walked forward again.

She fell back down again.

Frightened now, she edged forward with caution. She reached out and pushed against the air in front of her, only to find her palm could not penetrate it. Was it an invisible wall? What sort of trick was it this time? This dreadful House was bound to make her go insane.

She walked along the wall, trailing her hand in the air at every point. Even after walking around the entire wall of the House, she found she could not get close enough to touch the wall.

Time was quickly slipping away. She had to do something.

Just as Runa was about to try ramming into the wall, a subtle movement out of the corner of her eye made her heart jump. She turned. A puddle on the ground, once smooth and still in the moonlight, had been disturbed. It bubbled, mist rising from its surface. She watched in terror as the mist grew, until a head, chest, then entire body rose from it.

“Ah-ha. Look what we have here.”

Sylvain’s expression looked slightly smug.

“And what are you up to? Leaving before you’ve had a chance to get the full tour?”

Runa placed a hand on her chest. She must be hyperventilating by now.

He sighed as he approached her. “Calm down, now. I’m sorry I scared you like that.” Patting her back, he moved in the direction of a garden bench and helped her plop down on the seat safely. “Take a seat.”

“What on earth...is wrong with that wall?”

“Hm? Wrong with it? Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s an excellent wall, actually.”

“No...no, I mean, is there another wall there? Why can’t I reach it?”

Sylvain restrained another smirk. “That’s not the wall.”

He grasped her wrist and held it up so she could see the thick bronze ring adorning her middle finger. She blinked, startled. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed it until Sylvain pointed it out.

“This is my ring. While you wear it, you can never leave the House.”

She pulled her hand away.

“Don’t try taking it off. You can’t.”

“How is that—”

The sound of others approaching made the two turn around. It was three of the Sons of Midnight. But something was wrong. Even from far away, Runa could tell that there seemed to be some sort of commotion between them. It took her a while to realize what exactly was happening. As they drew near, she saw that Niko and Fiske were shouting and holding the third brother back: Torin.

He didn’t seem anything like the Torin she knew. He was almost wild, pushing and pulling against his younger brothers, furious that they were trying to restrain him. Eventually, he managed to break free and run toward Runa. His hands landed on her arms, grasping them tightly. He stared down at her with eyes bugging out of their sockets. She felt her lungs empty.

“What happened,” he rasped out, his voice almost a growl. “Tell me what happened! Are you okay? Runa! Tell me what happened!”

She could only stare at him. Her entire attention had been captivated by something in the very depths of his eyes—a peculiar and terrifying glow. It wasn’t the normal shine she saw in his smiling eyes. It was deep, deep inside them, barely perceptible, swirling with dark colors of green, black, violet, and scarlet red.

“Runa, tell me!”

He had started to shake her, and she almost cried out in surprise. What was happening? Why was he acting this way?

Casimir finally arrived, his arm shooting out to pull his brother back. In reaction to the sudden movement, Torin jerked away. Casimir gripped him firmly by the shoulders.

“Torin, look at me,” he said sternly.

“Casimir—I—I need to—I—” Torin was twisting away from his grasp, eyes glued to Runa.

"Torin. Look at me.”

He finally dragged his eyes over to Casimir; but slowly, agonizingly, as if it were pure pain to pull them away from Runa’s face. His jaw was tense and trembling.

“You need to get ahold of yourself, Torin. I think it’s happening early this time.”

At this, Sylvain stepped forward. “Wait, what do you mean it’s happening? This very moment? So suddenly? Are you certain?”

Niko’s eyes worriedly searched Torin’s.

“We need to get to the black room,” said Casimir. “And quickly. Niko, Fiske—help me out here.”

Runa stood up. Sylvain immediately grabbed her arm to hold her back.

“What’s happening to Torin? Where are you taking him?”

Casimir looked over at her, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. He glanced at Sylvain, walked over, and covered her eyes with his hand. The world faded to nothingness.

—

The room was dark, except for a hazy stream of greenish light falling from the small window above their heads. Torin knelt on the floor before Casimir, just below the feeble beam of light. He gripped his kneecaps so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. Behind him, a long, silver chain trailed into the shadows. Casimir held a long, midnight-blue ribbon, splattered with an array of brilliant starlight. He crouched down and squeezed Torin’s shoulder gently.

“Come on, Torin,” he prodded. “It’s time.”

Torin’s grip on his knees tightened. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” he whispered angrily.

“I know. Me neither.”

“I don’t want her to see this.”

Casimir’s composed exterior was crumbling. It was too much to watch his younger brother falling apart before his own eyes.

“I know, Torin. I know.” Casimir comforted him as best as he could. “Everything will be alright. And don’t worry about Runa. She’s fast asleep right now.”

“I don’t...I don’t want...”

“You know we have to do this.”

Torin’s grip loosened as he lifted hishands to cover his face. His shoulders shook. “God help me,” he whispered.

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~ A/N ~

Ooooooooo what’s going ooooon???? Thoughts??

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