The Fractured Light

CHAPTER 5

~THE HUM~

Saar slept through the afternoon while Arin worked quietly, doing her best not to intrude on whatever strange rhythm pulsed through the back room, but the air seemed to flex around him, bending in subtle ways she didn’t understand yet.

When the sun went down and the lanterns were lit, she finally stepped inside. Saar lay on his back, one arm placed over his forehead, and the silver marks on his chest glowed faintly. His breathing was deep but uneven, as if his dreams were pulling him in different directions.

Arin pulled the stool closer and sat down without waking him. She just watched his sleeping face, which appeared different, unguarded, and lacking peace while in sleep. It carried a cloudy aura like the kind people wear when they have no space left to conceal their pain.

“Who were you before the storm?” she whispered.

Saar’s lips moved, but no words came out.

Arin leaned forward slightly then Saar inhaled sharply, his eyes opened fast enough to catch hers before she could look away. He didn’t look confused, he looked like someone who had been waiting for her to speak.

She jolted in shock, thinking he was still asleep. “I… I thought you were still sleeping.” She stammered.

Then silence. Arin sat stiffly on the stool, her mind racing with a hundred questions and no answer.

Then his voice broke the quiet. “I think the storm knew me.”

Arin remained calm.

“And I think,” Saar continued, his gaze was steady and unsettling in the dim light, “It knows you, too.”

Arin was amused by that, she didn't attach too much reasoning to those words, coming from an unwell stranger still trying to piece his thoughts.

The hum surged, it got louder and clearer, as if the room was breathing too.

Arin stood up, wearing a distant look on her face, Saar watched her quietly, like he understood something she didn’t, like the storm had whispered a truth into him.

And outside, thunder rolled over Vaelora, It sounded so close and loud enough to trigger fear.

Arin swallowed hard.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll figure out what’s happening tomorrow.”

Saar nodded slowly.

Arin felt the truth settle in her being as she stepped out of the room: Tomorrow might already be too late.

***

The storm had ended two days ago, but Vaelora still trembled with its ghost. The puddles never seemed to dry and windows flickered even when no light touched them. The hum still hung in the air, and Arin had learned to pretend she didn’t hear it.

She rubbed her face and pushed back the covers, she had work to do, and work didn’t care about strange noises or unsettled mornings.

She made tea for the patients who had come back since the storm: broken bones, waterlogged lungs, the usual chaos of disaster. But every time she passed the backroom where Saar rested, the hum grew deeper, vibrating faintly in her chest.

It was easier when she didn’t look at him, and harder when she did. She lit the lanterns, checked the jars, and measured out the day’s herbs in a careful line on the counter. Work usually helped to settle her nerves, but today, the hum stayed with her, it was a soft vibration beneath every breath.

From the back room, she heard movement; Saar was awake. Arin paused, she set down the empty jar, and went to the door.

It stood slightly open. Saar sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, and he stared hard at the floor. His colour had returned, and the marks across his collarbone had faded to a faint silver, pulsing in and out with every breath.

He was quiet and watchful, but there was a weight behind his stillness, like he was listening to something far away.

Arin told herself she was only keeping him until he could walk without swaying, that was all. Yet, when she saw him sitting there that morning, bare feet on the cold floor, and light crawling over his skin, she paused, lost for words.

“How are you feeling?,” Arin asked finally, as she pushed the door open the rest of the way.

Saar lifted his head. “I feel much better.”

“You should be resting, sitting up too long will tear your stitches.”

“They feel fine.” Saar turned, “I don’t sleep much.” “They’re not fine, at least not completely.”

“Everything hurts anyway.” He said with a frown.

“That’s not a reason to make it worse.”

She crossed her arms. Saar shifted as if he were about to stand, then she stepped forward quickly.

“Where are you going?”

He blinked at her, and for a second, he seemed surprised that someone would tell him no. “You worry too easily.”

“I heal people, it’s my job. And you can’t go out now, I have patients in the hall, your presence will trigger questions and worry.”

He sat down again, slowly, “You are worried, I understand.” There was a sarcastic meaning to that and Arin caught it quickly.

She pointed at the bed, “Lie down, you’re not ready to…”

The building shook, just enough to throw one’s balance. Arin steadied herself with a hand on the wall.

Saar sat up. “Did you feel that?”

“You mean the hum?” Arin asked.

His eyes flicked up. “You hear it too.”

“I’ve been hearing it occasionally since I brought you here.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, still trying to figure her out.

Arin ignored his question. She was not ready to discuss it yet.

“Stay put,” she said instead. “I need to check something.”

She left the room before he could say another. Saar could hear gasps and murmurs of the patients in the hall. They asked Arin as she stepped out if it was another storm. She did her best to calm them and ease their fear.

“You are really good with people,” Saar said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

Three sharp knocks came at the apothecary door. When she opened it, Sera from the candle stall stood there, breathless. Her uncle Marrow waited behind her, looking like he had been running too.

“Arin,” Sera said. “You need to come now.”