3. When Night Comes
1505 Words
The rest of the evening passed exactly as every evening should.
Quiet.
Comfortable.
Safe.
The stew simmered until the venison was so tender it nearly fell apart beneath the spoon. Fresh herbs from the garden filled the broth with their familiar fragrance, while thick slices of warm bread rested between us on the little wooden table.
Grandmother bowed her head.
I followed suit, reaching across the table to take her hand.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For another day together."
"...For another day together," I echoed.
Only then did we eat.
Conversation came as easily as breathing.
She told me about Mrs. Linden's cat somehow finding its way into the pantry again.
I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my stew.
Apparently the poor woman had spent half an hour accusing invisible spirits of stealing dried fish before discovering the culprit asleep inside a flour sack.
"And what happened?" I asked between laughs.
"The cat looked offended that she'd interrupted his nap."
I dissolved into another fit of laughter.
"Oh, Mama..."
"I'm serious."
"I know!"
She couldn't help laughing with me.
By the time supper ended, the candle between us had burned almost halfway down.
I gathered our bowls before my grandmother could stand.
"I'll wash."
"You cooked."
"And you peeled exactly three potatoes."
"I peeled four."
"You attempted four."
"I finished three."
She smiled triumphantly.
"I'll take that as a victory."
Rolling my eyes affectionately, I carried everything to the sink.
Warm water steamed around my hands as I scrubbed the bowls one by one.
Behind me, Grandmother wiped down the table, humming softly beneath her breath.
The same lullaby.
Always the same lullaby.
I had never asked where she'd learned it.
It had simply always existed, woven into my childhood as naturally as the sunrise.
When the last dish was dried and returned to its place, she stretched with a contented sigh.
"I think these old bones are ready for bed."
"You say that every evening."
"And every evening, I'm right."
I smiled.
"I'll lock up."
She reached over, squeezing my hand.
"Don't stay awake reading until midnight."
"I never do."
She gave me a look.
"...Often."
"Better."
With one final kiss pressed to my forehead, she disappeared down the hallway toward her room.
The cottage grew wonderfully still.
I checked each window, securing the little wooden latches before stepping outside for a moment.
Night had settled over the Sunlands.
Unlike the Eternal Night beyond the eastern mountains, ours was gentle.
The moon bathed the gardens in silver light, and the stars glittered like scattered diamonds across an endless velvet sky.
Crickets sang somewhere beyond the lavender bushes.
A cool breeze danced through my hair.
I breathed it in deeply.
There was something magical about this hour.
Not magic in the way the stories spoke of.
Just...
Peace.
After another quiet moment beneath the stars, I slipped back inside and climbed the narrow staircase to my room.
It wasn't large.
Just enough.
A neatly made bed sat beneath the window overlooking the gardens. Shelves lined one wall, overflowing with books, dried flowers,
pressed leaves, and little keepsakes gathered over the years.
A painted bird feather.
A carved wooden fox.
Smooth river stones collected after spring floods.
Tiny reminders of happy days.
I lit the single candle beside my mirror before disappearing behind the folding screen to bathe.
The warm water eased the day's aches from my shoulders.
When I finished, I slipped into a soft cream-colored nightdress, drying my long black hair with a linen towel before slowly brushing
it until it fell like silk nearly to my knees.
The cottage had grown completely silent.
Grandmother was already asleep.
Moving quietly, I unpacked the last few things from my market basket.
The honey went into the pantry downstairs.
The herbs beside the drying rack.
The little velvet pouch remained in my hands.
"Oh..."
I'd nearly forgotten about it.
Curious, I loosened the drawstring and tipped the crystal into my palm once more.
Even beneath the candlelight, the black stone was beautiful.
The silver wisps trapped inside drifted lazily, almost like smoke suspended in water.
"...You're certainly strange."
A small smile tugged at my lips.
"I suppose every traveler deserves a story."
Carefully, I set the crystal on my bedside table beside a tiny vase holding fresh white daisies I'd picked that morning.
For a heartbeat...
The flowers seemed to lean ever so slightly toward it.
I blinked.
"...That's odd."
Perhaps I was simply tired.
Chuckling softly to myself, I pinched out the candle.
Darkness settled over the room.
Moonlight spilled through the open curtains, washing everything in pale silver.
I slipped beneath the quilts with a contented sigh, listening to the familiar sounds of home—the wind rustling through the roses
outside, the distant hoot of an owl, and the steady creak of the old cottage settling for the night.
Within moments, my eyes grew heavy.
Sleep came easily.
Peacefully.
Completely unaware...
That on the bedside table...
The crystal's silver wisps had stopped drifting.
They had all turned...
Toward the bed.
My dream had begun as they always did.
Peacefully.
The meadows stretched endlessly beneath a cloudless sapphire sky, the tall grass brushing against my bare legs as I wandered between patches of wildflowers swaying lazily in the breeze.
The air smelled of sweet citrus blossoms and warm earth.
Butterflies drifted from bloom to bloom.
Birdsong echoed somewhere overhead.
I smiled to myself, kneeling to gather a handful of white daisies.
The petals were still cool with morning dew.
"...Perfect."
I reached for another.
Instead...
My fingers brushed something smooth.
Cold.
Black.
I frowned.
Nestled amongst the flowers lay the crystal.
The same polished obsidian stone Azure had given me only hours before.
"...How did you get here?"
Dreams rarely made sense.
Still, curiosity won.
I picked it up.
The instant it settled into my palm...
Thump.
I froze.
A heartbeat.
Soft.
Steady.
Not my own.
I slowly lifted the crystal toward my ear.
"...Is that...?"
Another beat.
Thump.
The sound was unmistakable.
It echoed from somewhere deep within the stone.
I held my breath.
"...Hello?"
Silence.
Then...
A voice.
"So..."
It was barely above a whisper.
Deep.
Ancient.
Each syllable rolled through the air like distant thunder softened by velvet, carrying a quiet authority that seemed older than the world itself.
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Every part of me heard it.
"...Little Heart."
The words brushed against me so gently they should have been comforting.
Instead...
A shiver raced the length of my spine.
Not from cold.
Not entirely from fear.
It was...
Recognition.
As though some forgotten part of me had spent an eternity waiting to hear that voice.
My knees weakened.
My fingers tightened instinctively around the crystal.
"W-Who's there?"
No answer.
Only silence.
The meadow changed.
Without warning, the warm breeze vanished.
The birds stopped singing.
Every butterfly disappeared.
The flowers around my feet began to bow.
One after another.
Hundreds.
Then thousands.
As though something unseen had entered the meadow.
The sunlight dimmed.
Clouds swallowed the sky.
I turned in slow circles.
"Who's there?" I called again, louder this time.
Nothing.
Yet...
I could feel it.
Someone was watching me.
Not with cruelty.
Not with kindness.
Simply...
Watching.
The feeling settled over my skin so completely that I struggled to breathe.
Then the voice returned.
Closer this time.
Close enough that it almost sounded as though someone stood directly behind me.
"...I've finally found you."
My breath caught.
I spun around.
No one.
Only endless fields of flowers dancing beneath a wind I could no longer feel.
Then...
The heartbeat stopped.
The crystal cracked.
A single fracture splintered across its smooth surface.
The world around me shattered with it.
Flowers dissolved into black ash.
The sky fractured like glass.
The ground beneath my feet crumbled away into darkness.
I screamed—
—and bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding violently against my ribs
I woke with a gasp, fingers digging into my chest like I could pry the sound out from under my ribs.
*Thump.*
It wasn’t mine.
I pressed a trembling hand against my chest, trying to steady my racing heartbeat.
Then...
Thump.
Again.
Not from within me.
For six terrible seconds, the heartbeat stayed—thick as war drums, deep as a mineshaft, shaking the air between my teeth. Then silence. Just my own pulse, my sweat-damp sheets, and the moon poking through the curtains like it hadn’t just witnessed a crime.
“Probably a nightmare,” I said to the empty room.
The roses on my nightstand trembled in agreement. *(They knew better.)*
The room was dark.
Moonlight spilled through the window.
My breathing came in short, uneven gasps.
Slowly...
Almost against my own will...
My eyes drifted toward the bedside table.
The crystal sat exactly where I'd left it.
Perfectly whole.
Silent.
Yet for just the briefest moment...
The silver wisps trapped inside seemed to swirl in a slow, deliberate circle...
As if they had heard me awaken.
- Writer
