A House Filled With Night
Tremor in the Walls

“Move!”

“Casimir!”

“Where are the weapons? Where are the weapons?”

“Do we have any weapons?”

“Get Runa inside! Now!”

“Niko!”

“We need to stay calm!”

“This is not a time to be calm!”

Inside the House walls, everything had exploded into chaos. The Sons of Midnight were scrambling about: searching for things, making haphazard plans, and in general screaming at each other about everything that needed to happen immediately. Their casual attitude toward the invasion had entirely melted away, replaced by sheer panic. Apparently, nothing like this had happened before.

Runa found herself wishing with all her might that she had learned anything about tactical defense, how to fire a musket, or what to do in the event of a siege. Admittedly, such skills would be about as useful to a shopgirl as ballroom dancing (which is to say, completely useless). Regardless, none of the Sons of Midnight were about to let her into a battlefield. Torin and Casimir were already dragging her toward the House.

“It’s okay, Runa,” Torin was saying as they ran. His voice shook. “It’s okay.”

The sounds had grown louder, coming not just from outside the walls but inside as well. When they reached the living room, they sat her down on the couch.

“We’ll take care of this,” Casimir said firmly. “So don’t worry about it. Don’t move from this room unless they come inside. Then hide wherever you can. But they won’t come inside, okay? We won’t let them.”

“What can I do?”

“Don’t do anything. Just wait here.”

“I can’t do nothing!”

Torin squeezed her shoulder. “Please. We don’t want to risk your life.”

“But…”

Casimir sighed. “I’m going to go looking for some old muskets. They probably need to be cleaned and loaded. When I come return, I’ll leave some of them with you and come back for them later. Do you think you can figure it out?”

“Yes. Just show me how. I can do it.”

Two gunshots shook in their eardrums. He glanced back at the door. “We need to move—” He was already leaving.

Torin glanced in his direction and then back at Runa. He came over to kneel in front of her, putting his hands on top of hers.

“We meant what we said. We’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you.”

He squeezed her hands and pulled away, but Runa held on.

“Torin.”

“Yes?”

“Come back afterward. Okay?”

He smiled a little, willing himself not to falter.

“Don’t worry about me, Runa. You can’t get rid of me.”

—

Along the expanse of the House’s wall, the Sons of Midnight crouched low, peering out at the army they would have to face. Soldiers dotted the slope of the wooded dell, in which the House had once found secret refuge.

“My, my,” sighed Fiske. “They brought so many.”

Sylvain flinched at the next bang of the battering ram against the gate. “Where’s Casimir?” he asked Torin.

“He went to try and find Father’s old muskets.”

“Do we really need them?” Fiske asked. “We should be fine. We’ve delt with this sort of thing before.”

“Not like this,” Niko said. “The House has never been like this before.”

Torin gritted his teeth. “This has Celemine written all over it. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but this is her doing.”

No one wanted to affirm this, but no one could deny it either.

“Well, guess it’s time then,” Fiske announced, breaking the weighty silence. He shook out his wings and gave them a couple of experimental flaps. “I’ll fly well today, brothers.”

He had a dark gleam in his eyes. He was prepared for battle.

“I’ll get going then!”

“Wait, Fiske—”

Sylvain’s protest came too late. Fiske had already jumped and flown over the wall. His brothers watched as he dove at one of the soldiers, knocked the musket out of his hands, and proceeded to fly around and shoot from the air.

“That fool,” hissed Sylvain. “Niko, let’s get down there now.”

“Right.”

Sylvain and Niko disappeared into a cloud of smoke, reappearing a few minutes later amid the thick fog that had taken over the dell. Torin gripped the edge of the wall. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Sylvain had only called for Niko and not him.

Someone elbowed him. Casimir threw him a musket, another tucked beneath his arm.

“Hey. What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

Torin cocked his head to the left, indicating the chaos down below. Sylvain was a ghost in the mist, appearing and reappearing at random places to spook the horses, steal a gun, or take a stab with a bayonet. He was causing so much confusion by the gate that the battering ram had been abandoned, those who manned it slowly retreating. Niko, on the other hand, was a battering ram in his own right. He seemed to be plowing down half the army on his own, stopping masses of soldiers in time before proceeding to knock them down the slope with his bare arms, where they fell into a mangled pile of confused, incapacitated bodies.

On the wall of the gate, Casimir turned to Torin. The younger didn’t notice; he was watching the battle too intently. Casimir knew Torin couldn’t go down and join the fight, but he had a hard time saying it out loud. If Torin couldn’t control himself at a time like this, the effects would be detrimental.

This kid is going to get himself killed someday, thought Casimir, patting him on the back. Torin turned to look at him. And I’m not sure if I can do anything about it.

“Let’s back them up from here,” Casimir tried, hoping Torin wouldn’t argue. “Someone needs to hold down the fort.”

“Alright.”

Casimir blinked in surprise.

“I hope you’ve got some ammunition in that bag, because it looks like this thing isn’t loaded.” Torin indicated the musket in his hands, waiting expectantly.

“Right, yes,” Casimir reached into the bag and passed him a couple of powder cartridges and musket balls.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself a little. When had his little brother grown up so much? He wore such an expression of solemn determination as he bit off the end of the paper cartridge and carefully poured it into the pan. Torin looked up at Casimir curiously, spitting out the paper.

“What’s wrong?”

Casimir cleared his throat and stopped smiling. “Nothing, nothing.”

It was no time to get distracted. He began loading his weapon as well.

The battle waged on. In no time, the Sons of Midnight had caused such havoc to the little army that the soldiers were beginning to wonder if there were really only five brothers. From their point of view, it seemed like there was a new creature popping out of the mist every few seconds.

Some had gotten so spooked that they had run off into the woods, and the entire army seemed to be gradually receding farther and farther back into the forest. It was just beginning to look like the Sons of Midnight would get through the entire thing without a scratch, too, until a musket ball found its way into Fiske’s shoulder.

Torin was aiming his gun when he the sound of his brother’s cry. He knew it too well. He looked up, eyes widening as they followed Fiske’s falling form, black hair and wings trailing behind him as he plummeted down from the sky. In that moment, all the noise was swallowed by silence, and all surroundings darkened into a blur. There was only Fiske’s body, pale and crumpled in the dirt. Torin thought he yelled Fiske’s name, but this sound, too, was drowned out by the roaring of his mind.

Before Casimir could stop him, he had jumped off of the wall and landed below, like a panther out of a tree. He pushed through the bodies that were in his way, useless matter between him and Fiske. They fell to the right and to the left, their cries deaf upon his ears. He collapsed onto his knees before Fiske, brushing away the grime from his skin, too scared to touch the bloated chunk of flesh on his shoulder where blood tricked down.

“Fiske…” whispered Torin. He didn’t open his eyes.

A group of soldiers approached them, and Torin came upon them like a thunderstorm, grabbing a musket from one and whipping it across their heads, flooring twenty men with one blow. He grabbed another that advanced by the throat and threw him to the ground, leaving him gasping in the dirt. He threw the gun to the ground, breathing heavily, eyes darting from face to face to see if anyone else dared approach him. Tendrils of inky blackness swirled between his fingers. Somewhere in the back of his raging mind, Torin thought he might need to calm down. That thought quickly slipped away when he saw Fiske again.

“Stay awake,” Torin growled, hauling him onto his shoulders. “Stay alive!” He heard a faint groan come from his brother’s mouth.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead.

He plowed back through the battlefield as quickly as he could, making his way toward the House with all the resolve of a charging bull. Soldiers fell left and right. He ignored the horror in their eyes as they collapsed, motionless, or their cries as he trampled over their bodies. He almost rammed straight through Sylvain too, but recognized him at the last moment.

Sylvain grabbed Torin by the arm before he run by.

“Fiske…Fiske was shot…Fiske…”

“Torin, listen to me. You need to go to Casimir right now. You’re losing yourself.”

“But Fiske!”

Torin yanked his arm away from Sylvain and kept on going. Niko couldn’t stop him, either. The younger brother called for Casimir, and the two managed to catch Torin just after he ripped the gate of the House open with his bare hands.

Casimir took hold of both Torin’s arms while Niko pulled Fiske off of his back. Sylvain was desperately closing the gates again before any soldiers could make it inside. Thankfully, most were still too terrified of Torin to charge forward, at least for the time being.

“Torin, look at me.”

He jerked away, eyes popping, head craning to see behind Casimir.

“Where’s Fiske? Where is he?”

“Niko has him. Look.”

Torin saw Fiske on Niko’s back, but didn’t calm down.

“Fiske!”

“We’re going inside now, Torin. Now. Niko, I’ll take Fiske. You need to stay with Sylvain and guard the wall.”

Casimir’s mind was swirling. Somehow, he was going to have to take care of a wounded Fiske and a raging Torin. Niko and Sylvain would stay back and protect the House. The only person left inside to help him was Runa. He cursed. He just hoped she was ready for whatever came next.

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~ A/N ~

Wow I wonder what will happen next O WAIT I know because I write this story HAHAHAHAHA.

Thank you sooooooooooooooooo much to all the new readers, commenters, likers, and reviewers who joined this week! I am so happy to have all of you along for the journey :)

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