A Fallen HomeKin

PART LI

He was back. He was in SecondHome. Fralith's lungs filled to the brim with fresh, night air filled with the wild scents of faint humidity, foliage, and an ever-present earthy undertone. He held it in for as long as he could, leaning on the wall with his good arm, a shining flow of sunlight rushing through his limbs even as the air weighed heavily on them.

He could breathe! He could inhale all the way! The air was enough! He'd almost forgotten how wonderful it was to have no restraints on his lungs. Letting out his breath in a whoosh, he pushed off the wall, regaining his feet. His limbs were a little shaky and felt as if he had rocks tied to them, but he still could move alright.

Clutching his clothes closer to his chest, he lifted his gaze to his surroundings. He stood at the edge of a round room that curved around and into the trunk of the ginormous tree the house was set into. To his right, near an open window hedged by hanging plants, stood a group of chairs made from wooden frames and vines woven in between.

A small basket hung from a hook in the ceiling over the seating arrangements, blue flashes of fluorescent wings winking in and out through the holes in its body, lighting the room with dim light. Past the seating arrangements, the room faded into a hall leading into the dining room and water closet. To his left, trinkets and tapestries hung on the curved walls, leading to the kitchen and Father's old study. Directly ahead of him, carved into the center pillar of the home, were the stairs leading up to the second floor.

All of it, from the carvings to the tapestries to the ornate trinkets lining the shelves, were as familiar as breathing. And yet, it was foreign— changed in an inexplicable way, as if time had whisked through it, taking the shine from the decorations and seeping the light that used to hover even in the cover of darkness.

This was home and...it was not. Familiar, yet strange. Comforting, yet unsettling. Shadows welled up, threatening to get under his skin and chill him with their slithering bodies. He shivered and darted up the stairs and their walls of paintings, to the landing above.

Like the room below, it was built in a circular way; a little open space and hall curving around on each side, rooms set into the walls. Immediately in front of him were the doors to the balcony set over the front door. Windows arched on either side of them, their shutters closed.

Above him hung ropes of bioluminescent moss, GlowFlowers, and ShadowEater fronds. A net made from shredded Hinchilla fur criss-crossed above him, keeping the plants and the FlyingStar moths enclosed. Their combined glow lit the landing in a soft, shifting light, chasing away the darkness just enough for him to spot the biggest change of the house.

On his left, in the foot of the hall, where the entryway for his room had been, stood an arching statue of waves, leaves, and petals that brushed the ceiling and continued a little ways into the hall. In the center, Father's face gazed out, stern with a slight, protective frown set on his lips.

A shiver froze at the top of his spine. Why— why was his room blocked? When had...when had this appeared? Why? It was— his room! And why...why with this? Edging closer, peered at the statue, poking back the shadows rising in his belly with a thought-stick.

Whoever had carved this statue perfectly caught Father's hardened, wrinkled face and the pockmarked scars near the base of his jaw nearly completely hidden by his short beard. It was— it looked so much like him he almost instinctively straightened his shoulders and set his face in the same grim expression like Father had always told him to.

With effort, he suppressed the instinct, breaking eye contact with the carving. It wasn't Father. It was just a statue. Just— a statue blocking the entrance to his room.

Little footsteps padded across the wood floor. "Fralith...? Is that you?"

He turned, a gasp escaping him followed by ice-melt cascading down his back. He hadn't— someone was up?