A House Filled With Night
A Voice In the Deep

Words and images flew past Runa’s eyes in one swelling blur of inky hues. Although she understood little of their meaning, she felt something stir in the deepest part of her mind. Pages upon pages revealed the connections of earth and time, the realities outside their world, and the means to reach past that familiar fabric she called life and grasp something greater.

Brilliant and horrific.

She scratched the back of her head, uneasy. She couldn’t lift the whole chest on her own, so she had to choose some books and leave others. But how would she know which were most valuable to their search? She looked back at the other books along the bookshelf. What if she missed something?

Yearnings.

A book caught her eye: deep green, beautiful, and most of all, in her own language. It didn’t seem to belong in that study. It looked delicate and innocent, embellished with nothing more than its title and a tiny wildflower. She pulled it off its shelf. In the Womb of the Earth. Suddenly, she was struck by the overwhelming feeling that she knew this book was for her. She opened it and began to read.

“Beneath the streets of wicked unrest, beyond the sighs of clamor and regret. There is a place where none can reach. There is no sun, there is no moon. There is peace in the womb of the earth.”

Without realizing it, a tear had fallen down her cheek. She read silently, desperately, until time escaped her notice.

They will not let you stay.

The thought wrenched her from the reverie of her book.

They will take you away.

She had only just begun to read.

Don’t let them take you.

She couldn’t go just yet.

Keep them out.

Fiske would be worried about her soon. Of course he would misunderstand. It would seem odd to him, since he hadn’t seen what she had. She would just have to give herself a little more time. Just enough to finish what she had begun.

There is a key in the door.

Runa clutched the book to her breast and crept toward the door. She closed it. A large brass key sat in the keyhole. She gripped it, twisted it, and locked it.

All of her surroundings disappeared between the pages of her book. Forgotten was the chest, the study, the library, the House—the Sons of Midnight. They had all blurred into the edges of periphery, fuzzy and insignificant. She was at ease now; warm, quiet, calm—almost like one floating in a world entirely made of water. But she didn’t have to worry about breathing. She didn’t have to worry about anything. She just floated, undisturbed, in miles of clear, blissful nothingness.

How much time passed while she read that book, there was no way of knowing. She might have ended her days there, careless of food, water, or sleep, if not for that pestering banging sound in the distance.

Bang, bang, bang.

There it was again. Runa just kept turning pages.

Bang-bang-bang-bang!

They were louder now, faster, in greater number.

And then, the very faint voice:

“Runa—”

It had been a shout, but it was so faint, it might as well have been a whisper. It might as well have just been her imagination. She ignored it.

“Runa!”

She frowned, irritated now. Who was disturbing her?

No one.

“Runa! Runa!” What was that last part? “Come…please…”

She couldn’t make it all out, but it was enough to make her look up from her book for a moment. That was when she realized how dark it had become.

“Please come back!”

She closed the book slowly. Why was she here again?

“Don’t make me…”

What was he saying? And why was she listening, anyway? She reached for her book again.

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound. Rapid footsteps pounded outside, growing closer and closer. Then the banging started again, but this time, it was just outside her door.

“Runa! I know you’re in there! You have to come out. You have to come out right now!”

That voice was familiar. Her hand paused, just as it brushed the edge of the book.

No one.

“Don’t make me stay out here a moment longer. I’ll go crazy, you know it! You’d better get out here and do something about this. You’d better get out here and stop me!”

She knew that voice. And inexplicably, she wanted to listen to him. She wanted to help him.

“Please, you’ve got to get out of there. What will I do without you? You’re the only one who can help me. Please, come out. Come out, and we’ll go together.”

Torin.

In a moment, all the water flooding her mind cleared. She shook herself, hauled up an armful of books, unlocked the door, and flung it open.

Torin’s wide, clear eyes stared back at her in the dimmest of light, through wild, shaggy hair. He shook himself and grabbed her open hand. They ran.

They ran the whole way back, following the pale-yellow crack of light in the far door. Runa’s hand slid deeper into the warmth of his palm, feeling a wave of life return through that connection, rushing up her arm and reverberating throughout her body. She flinched as the books began to slip in the feeble grip of her right arm. She clenched them tighter, until their sharp edges bit into her skin. They kept slipping, slipping, further and further. Surely, they would all just tumble out of her arms before they made it. But she clenched down on them until her muscles screamed and her joints cracked. She couldn’t let go.

Torin flung the door open, and they collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air as if they had been drowning only moments ago. The books in Runa’s arms flew onto the ground skidded across the floor every which way. One bumped into the feet of a wide-eyed, speechless Fiske.

“You did it,” he whispered.

Torin’s head flew up, his eyes burning. “What do you mean, she did it?”

“She brought back the books. I knew she would.”

“Yeah? And she almost stayed locked away in that tomb for a thousand years, too! What on earth were you thinking?”

Runa finally found her voice. “No one else came up with a better idea, did they?”

Torin’s furious eyes turned their attention back to her. He got up on one knee, stood, and slowly stalked toward her. “No one had a better idea?”

“Yes,” she replied, confidently, getting up herself and reaching for the books. “You might be fine with waiting here to die, but I—”

He snatched her by the wrist before her fingers could reach even one book. Her head jerked back up to look him in the eyes.

“Are you insane?” he seethed. “Do you even know what you’ve done? Do you know what could have happened? Do you understand? Do you? Those books made my father the demon he was! Those books made me the demon I am! Why are you being so reckless? Why do you do these—”

Runa winced in pain, making Torin stop abruptly. He let go, stepping away as if he himself had been hurt. In an instant, all his anger melted into remorse.

“Forgive me for…forgetting myself,” he said. He shook his head. “I’m hurting you again.”

Fiske fidgeted with his fingers just behind them, looking around the walls, the floor, the ceiling—anywhere but at the two of them.

“Torin, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

Fiske edged away, one foot playing at the edge of the first stairstep. No one seemed to notice.

“It’s not fine. I have to learn how to live so you are never hurt.”

He took her hand to inspect the wrist.

Fiske turned and fled up the stairs on tiptoe.

“I’ll learn. It will take time, but I’m going to learn how to take care of you. I will protect you.”

“Torin…”

“I’ll learn to be close enough to watch over you…” He let go of her hand, eyes following it as it fell to her side. “Just…not too close.”

He turned away before she could say anything else. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll bandage your wrist up. Then you’re going to bed. And you’ll stay in bed. Don’t ever come back here.”

She didn’t bother protesting. Coming back to this place was the last thing she wanted.

“Hey, where did Fiske go?” Torin was looking around, puzzled.

Runa frowned. “Oh. Where did he go?”

—

Runa sat on a rickety little stool on the floor of the kitchen pantry, trying not to creak too much as she rocked from side to side. Torin’s back was to her as he dug through a cabinet on the wall, searching for medical supplies. She chewed her lip.

“You know…it doesn’t hurt at all. You’re overreacting.”

He turned back with a raised eyebrow. “It doesn’t hurt at all? Really?”

“That much. It doesn’t hurt that much. What will you do, anyway? Feed me tonic?”

“I know a sprained wrist when I see one. I was probably pulling too hard while we were running out of the library, too. I never notice how rough I am until it’s too late.”

“You just haven’t had a chance to practice. Not with the sorts of brothers you have. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to sprain Niko’s wrist, no matter how hard you try.”

Torin chuckled, and Runa couldn’t help but smile in the satisfaction that she’d made that solemn, sorrowful expression disappear from his face for a moment. He came out of the cabinets with a roll of gauze and squatted down before her. She looked up to catch his eye, but they were trained intently on her wrist, which he cradled in the palm of his hand.

“I’ll just wrap it quickly. So it doesn’t swell too much.”

He had said quickly, but it felt agonizingly slow to her, and painfully gentle—how his fingertips barely held her arm up, while the other hand carefully wound round and round with the bandage.

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t slow enough. As quickly as they came, his hands pulled away, wrapped up the loose end of the bandage, and put everything back into the cupboard. He led her upstairs quietly, one hand gently holding her elbow as if simultaneously afraid she might stumble and hurt herself or that he might hurt her if he held on too much.

He bid her goodnight at the pale-yellow door of her bedroom, leaving Runa with nothing but the lingering feeling of his touch and the even longer lingering question, how could someone so kind ever be a monster?

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~ A/N ~

Ah, young love. I was young once.... I had... polly pockets... an easy bake oven... and an insatiable desire for ice cream. Oh wait, I still have all those things. Silly me!

What do you think it was living in the underground library?

And omg...the fan theories just keep getting better and better. Y’all are gonna put me out of business!!

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