A House Filled With Night

They were like nothing anyone had ever seen. They were noble, tall, with shimmering hair and unnaturally smooth skin. They wore soft fabrics of deep, bright shades that couldn’t be found in even the nicest shops in town. But it was their eyes, their piercing, crystalline eyes, which were most striking of all. She didn’t know eyes like those existed. But they encompassed everything that they were: strange, surprising, and absolutely captivating.

The entire ballroom might have remained frozen in that moment for eternity if it had not been broken by a sudden shout from one of them, a young man with raven-black hair and a bright smile.

“Hello!” he cried cheerily. “We came to eat your children!”

Three women immediately fainted, and the entire crowd exploded. All the guards rushed toward the center as the ball’s guests simultaneously began shouting and backing away. Over the roar, the Sons of Midnight could be heard.

“No, we—” one began.

“It’s a misunderstanding—” a different one said simultaneously.

“Hey! Fiske!” shouted another. “Why can’t you ever shut up, you nutcase? You’re too crazy, you know?”

Somehow, none of the soldiers had successfully made it to the center of the room where the Sons of Midnight stood. They seemed incapable of taking one step into their presence. As the outraged roar melted into confused mutterings, the tallest one at the front of their group bowed deeply to apologize. “Forgive us, we never meant to cause alarm. We only came to dance with you. My brother is very playful, please understand.”

His brothers didn’t do much to reassure the crowd. One snorted, “Why bother? We could eat their children if we wanted to.” One brother in the back was trying to conceal his mirth with a hand. The black-haired one was doubled over laughing.

Finally, the tall one at the front gave up. With a flick of his hand, hazy smoke filled the room once again—this time, with countless different colors. “Well, get at it then, you little devils.”

Laughter flew from the brothers as they ran into the crowd, dancing about like happy sprites. There was music again—different this time. One of the brothers had taken over the musician’s ensemble led them into a new, more enthralling tune. The entire ballroom had been cast under an unspoken spell. Those who cried out in outrage only moments before felt inexplicably compelled to join the Sons of Midnight in their revelry. They returned to their dancing, but it had become a much different sort of ball. Unidentifiable lights seemed to fly through the air, the otherworldly music grew louder and more mesmerizing, and all around, a blurry under the haze of countless colors made the room spin. The Sons of Midnight shone through the crowd at moments like glinting jewels, their movements smooth as silk, their presence radiating around them almost tangibly.

Runa forgot why she was there and how she had gotten under the table. She stared at the scene in awe. It was only when she noticed someone headed toward her table that she snapped back to reality.

One of the Sons of Midnight had left the crowd to seek refreshment. By the time she realized what was happening, he was barely a few feet away. She looked up at him, eyes widening, and yanked the tablecloth down. The gasp which escaped from her mouth rang in her ears, making her tremble.

Had he seen her? It must have been her imagination, that moment she felt their eyes lock. It must have been. At first, Runa could discern nothing. The shadow of his legs silhouetted against the tablecloth concealing her. Only that thin piece of fabric hung between her and him, whatever he was. Runa brought the edge of her finger to her lips and bit down on the skin.

Don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t think.

The sound of munching reached her ears and Runa willed herself not to audibly sigh in relief. Safe—

Then in a flash, the table cloth had been wrenched up.

“Hello, there!”

Runa squeaked like a mouse, lifted up her hands defensively, fumbled, and finally fell backwards onto her bottom.

One of the Sons of Midnight crouched just in front of the table, balancing on the balls of his feet and grinning at her dramatic expression. Why was he smiling like that? Was he excited to find an easy prey? Was he looking forward to snatching her away? Killing her? Torturing her? Cutting her up into tiny pieces and making her into a stew?

After a long, expectant silence, the man finally spoke again.

“My name’s Torin. What’s your name? And what are you doing under a table?”

Runa swallowed. She knew she needed to answer him. But in that moment, she was just trying her best not to gawk at him: his clothes, which could probably pay for two years’ worth of bread; his hair, which looked exactly the silvery, iridescent color she imagined in fairy wings; or his eyes, more shimmering than any she’d ever gazed into. He was just an inch away from her and she wasn’t sure if he was real. She desperately prayed he wasn’t real, that maybe she had fallen asleep under the table and this was just some strange nightmare.

She opened her mouth and could have sworn it moved. No sound came out.

Torin chuckled. “You look pretty scared of me. Sorry if I frightened you. I promise I wasn’t trying to. I thought it would be funny. You didn’t think it was funny, did you?”

Slowly, Runa shook her head back and forth.

“I’m sorry. Really. Forgive me?”

Runa nodded dumbly. Was this a trick?

He smiled lopsidedly. “You know, you seem nice—for a girl hiding under a table, anyway. Why don’t you come out and dance?”

“I...I’m not supposed to be here.”

He stopped smiling and blinked. “Wow, your voice is so pretty. Like a melody. I like it. What’s your name?”

“Runa.”

“Runa. So why are you hiding under a table, Runa?”

“Well, someone said I attacked her—I didn’t, really, I didn’t—and the palace guards came after me and I didn’t know what to do. So I’m just hiding.” She paused before adding, “I suppose there’s no way for you to know if I’m telling the truth, though, is there?”

Torin shook his head, leaning forward and resting a hand on top of her head. He patted it twice, almost as if he were petting a good puppy. “If you say it, I believe you.”

“But you just met me.”

“Well, yes, that’s true. But you seem reliable enough.”

This seemed to be sufficient explanation for him. Taking his hand back, he folded his arms over his knees and rested his chin atop them.

“Runa, would you like me to help you get out of here?”

“You would do that?”

“Of course.”

“Well, it’s very kind of you to offer. But how?”

He laughed. “Oh, it’ll be easy. Give me a moment.”

Fishing through his pockets, he procured a small cigarette. Standing, he looked for a candle and lit it. He placed it into his mouth and crouched back down in front of Runa, breathing the smoke onto her face. It flowed out in heavy white billows, surrounding her and warming her. Instead of smelling like tobacco, it smelled like sweet vanilla bean.

“This is one of Sylvain’s cigarettes,” he explained. “They won’t be able to see you now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come out and see.”

Slowly, Runa ventured out from under the table. She glanced at Torin, trying to gage if he was really telling the truth. But even after she was out, nobody looked at her.

“Do something,” Torin said.

Runa hesitated before waving at the crowd.

“Come on, you can manage something more interesting than that.”

She edged closer to the crowd, threw her hands in the air, and wiggled about like a piece of grass in the wind. Nobody even blinked in her direction.

Torin laughed.

“They really can’t see me,” Runa gasped, still disbelieving. She turned to Torin. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so, so much. I...I can’t give you anything, I don’t have anything you’d want...”

He smiled and bowed. “I don’t need anything. It was fun enough for me to meet you, Runa.”

An idea suddenly flashed in Runa’s mind. She reached into her bag, pulling out her prized red apple and holding it out to him.

“Here, take this.”

He looked confused. Runa could feel herself blushing, but she had already done it, so she had to follow through. She felt a need to give him something in return for his kindness.

“It’s just an apple. It’s not a special apple, either. But it’s my dinner. And it’s the only decent apple I’ve had all year, so it’s worth a lot to me. I want you to have it.”

Runa couldn’t make herself look up into his eyes. If she had, she would see that they were glowing. He was staring at her as if she had just offered him the world. Reaching out almost reverently, his hands closed around hers, holding the apple. Her eyes snapped up to meet his and she tried to pull away. He didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he said quietly—so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Thank you so much.”

“I-it’s only an apple.”

“No, to you it’s much more than that. It’s worth a year of working and crying. No one has ever given me something like that before.” He let go of her hands and stepped back. “I should let you go now. Be safe. And don’t forget about me! I hope we’ll meet again someday.”

Runa found herself smiling sadly as she stepped back to leave. Meet again someday? Maybe tomorrow night, if I can return to this strange dream that I’m in.

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~ A/N ~

Wow, are you still here? Reading? Don’t make me cry...no, I’m okay T_T Please go on without me, I’ll be fine. The story must go on. (Psst—any thoughts?)

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