A House Filled With Night

Torin’s first thought when he awoke was that he couldn’t remember how he ended up in his bed. As much as he strained to recall what had happened, he couldn’t remember walking to his bedroom that night. He couldn’t even remember falling asleep at all.

His second thought was that something about his room had changed. But what? From where he lay, everything appeared to be just fine. Still, his instincts told him that something in the room had definitely changed.

Torin sat up, running a hand through his hair. Why did his head feel so heavy? It was almost as if Casimir had put him to sleep. It didn’t make any sense. He looked around. It was still dark, but the light purple hue seeping through the window told him dawn was approaching. He got up, walked to his window, and looked out. His eyes fell to the window seat.

That’s what it was. That’s what was different.

There, curled up in the cushion of his window seat, lay a small girl. She seems familiar. Torin crouched down to see her face. He gasped quietly. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her chin was tucked into her chest, but he knew that face immediately.

“Ru...na?” he whispered.

It couldn’t be her. He was never going to see her again. It must be another dream. Why did sleep have to be so deceptive?

He sat down along the edge of the window seat. Slowly, afraid to prove himself right, he reached out. When his hands felt the softness of her hair, he breathed in sharply. He wasn’t asleep. It wasn’t a dream. His fingertips brushed over the edge of her cheek. He retracted them quickly.

“Runa? What—what are you doing here? I don’t understand...”

She didn’t stir. Torin grew anxious. He patted her cheek gently. Still no response. Was she sick? Dead? He stood up, one knee on the seat, one foot on the floor, and bent over Runa to get a better look at her face.

“Runa!”

He took hold of her shoulders, giving her a firm shake.

“Runa, wake up! Please wake up!”

Her eyebrows scrunched together in sleepy confusion, but she finally began to rouse. Torin sighed in relief.

“I was afraid you were—I was so afraid that—”

Runa shot up from the pillows and looked around her wildly.

“Where...am I?”

She clutched her aching head, taking in the surroundings as best she could. A bed, a wardrobe, open dresser, messy desk, a man—

Runa’s eyes snapped back to Torin. A man. Not a man. That man. She looked down at her hands, which had unconsciously gripped onto both of his forearms. She stared back up at his face for a full minute before yanking her hands away and shouting, “What on earth is happening?!” She then promptly pushed him to the ground, bolted up from the window seat, and ran for dear life in the direction of the door. Torin struggled to his feet as he reached out for her.

“Wait, Runa—you really shouldn’t—”

She pulled away and pushed him to the ground again, more forcibly this time. Then she was out of his room, running down the hallway screaming out a strange, warbling sound which could be described as the cry of a troubled parakeet.

None of the hallways looked familiar. She had no idea where she was. There was so much, her mind could not possibly take it in. All around, gold, silver, satin, patterns, paintings, and countless colors flew past her eyes. Every room she ran into was so strange, so beautiful, so inexplicably unnerving. It was fascinating and terrifying at once. She ran from room to room, through door after door, desperately hoping to find one that led to open air. The air beating against her cheeks felt chilly where tears had streaked down.

“Motherrrrrrr—” she sobbed as she went. “Oh Mother, where in God’s name am I?”

At the end of a dark hall, something made Runa pause. Music. There was music coming from one of the doors to her right. Following the sound, she found herself in a vast, deep blue room. As far as she could see in any direction, there were no walls, as if she were walking within a twilight sky. It was completely empty except at the very center. There, a large piano stood, its polished, black paneling gleaming in the dim glow of the room. A man sat at the bench, making the keys sing a dark and beautiful melody. His eyes closed serenely; his body swayed with the melody.

Against her better judgement, Runa approached him. He looked familiar. He was one of the Sons of Midnight, she was sure, but he seemed even more familiar somehow. As if she had seen him just moments before.

He looked up at her, and Runa remembered the face that had stalked toward her in the dark of her bedroom as she lied on her cot. Her senses set off alarm bells, dulled by the growing heaviness in her mind. He was humming that tune again. Covering her ears, Runa ran from the room, shouting to drown out the sound.

What is wrong with this place? What’s wrong with them?

Runa’s head cleared a little as she distanced herself from the blue room. But where could she even begin to look for an exit? Each doorway could lead anywhere. What traps awaited her behind those beautiful, deceptive doors? Runa flung another one open and ran inside.

Immediately, she was enveloped in a mist as white and fresh as an early dawn. She spun around. The door she had just walked through had already disappeared into the fog. She fumbled for it but found nothing except air and cool mist. There were footsteps.

“Who are you?” she asked. The sound of her own voice trembling that much terrified her.

Worse, there was no response. Just more footsteps. Quieter footsteps.

“I...I don’t know who you are but...”

A long, pale hand reached out from the depths of the swirling mist and grasped for her shoulder.

She screamed, pulled away, and ran—straight into a wall.

Recovering, Runa pulled herself to her feet, crouching and looking all around to check for any more hands shooting out of nowhere. She had to run along the wall in search of an exit. She blessed every sweet doorknob in the world when her hands finally found one. Pulling the door open, she slipped inside.

But the next room she entered was not empty either. This time, she knew it from the moment she walked in. At the very center of the room, suspended in midair as if held by an invisible thread of spider’s silk, a boy floated above the ground. His eyes were closed; long, soft eyelashes brushing the top of his cheek. His deep bronze hair shimmered gold in the early morning light. The dusty particles sparkling in the air moved about him slowly, tantalizingly—just as he did. Upon closer inspection, Runa realized he was gradually floating downward. It was as if a moment in which he had jumped up to flip backwards had been slowed down so he could enjoy it to the fullest.

Then his eyes snapped open, locking with hers. His feet flew over his head and hit the ground as quickly as if he had just jumped. Now that he was standing, Runa found the gentleness of his features strange on such a figure. He was tall, but not just tall—broad. His shoulders seemed to block out the window behind him.

Runa turned to escape again but found she could no longer move. She watched helplessly as he approached, a dark silhouette against the brightness of the sun.

“Sorry, Miss Runa. I think you should stop running around the house now.”

How does this weirdo know my name?!

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~ A/N ~

Seems like a friendly enough house, right? Frankly, Runa is probably just being a big drama queen, as usual. How would you react if you woke up in that house? You would look for the kitchen, wouldn’t you? I knew you were smart!

Sorry I forgot to post this last night!!

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