The interior of the hut had become entirely pitch black with darkness, with no moonlight able to pierce through the various layers of the forest and into the windows. Frank had tossed around in the many layers of quilts he was lying under, the skin on his calf still searing together.

After a couple of sleepless hours, he thrust his leg out of the covers and into the air. He sat upright, breathing deep and gently feeling the smooth, hairless skin of his shin.

He hated having legs.

A creaking floorboard near the ladder drew his attention. He squinted through the shadows, trying to catch any glint of light that his scotopic vision could see. A slight sheen across dull metal was waddling near the ground.

“Gostor,” he whispered hoarsely. A barely-voiced grunt called back before the thick pads of the dwarf’s hands carried him down the ladder.

Frank stood, grimacing as his aching leg trembled beneath his weight. He hobbled over to the ladder, feeling around with his hands so as not to fall through the opening. Finding the rungs, he lowered himself to the main floor of the hut.

He couldn’t see anything. There was no light for him to catch and Gostor was being particularly quiet. Morgana was somewhere down here, but there was no telling where. He whispered for Gostor to come back, his voice so soft that only the consonants of his words made any sound. When no one answered, he frustratedly summoned a small spark of light in his hands.

His tattoos shimmered as a tiny jellyfish made of pure light bobbed up and down in his palm. It wasn’t even as bright as a candle, but it provided enough of a glow to navigate the downstairs.

The furniture had been moved back to its original position and all the dishes had been placed in the sink. The curtains were all closed and the fire had been completely put out. By the window near the bookshelves was a large plush chair facing the shut window, Morgana’s white hair resting at the top. Frank sighed with relief - she hadn’t woken up.

In the same corner, Gostor was pulling books off the shelves. His head craned back as his eyes narrowed towards a specific tome on the top shelf. Frank sucked his teeth and limped over to him.

He batted his hands away from the shelves and whispered, “Stop it.”

Gostor shook his head and tried to climb the shelves, using the empty spaces as footholds. Frank glanced back at Morgana, who was still motionless in the chair. The back of her head was sunk deep into the cushion of the seat.

Frank grabbed the book before Gostor could snatch it, if not just to get him away from the shelf. Holding it up away from the scavenger, he saw it was nondescript but extremely well-read. Tabs and notes stuck out from the edges and the parchment was very worn. It almost seemed to vibrate in his grasp. Gostor must have sensed it, too.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He knelt down so the both of them could see it. He cracked it open and gave Gostor a sharp look as if to demand that they share. The dwarf snorted but agreed, standing uncomfortably close to Frank.

They flipped through the pages, finding long journal entries and drawings of otherworldly buildings and items. The words were in a language neither of them could understand, the characters flowing together with lines and dots that resembled no alphabet they had ever seen.

One page seemed to be a letter of sorts, accompanied by an elegant drawing of a pyramidic palace. Another featured only a smiling girl with long, braided hair that was adorned with ornate metal pieces. The page had many dark spots across the paper, as though someone had spilled water onto it.

Covering two pages in the middle of the book was a drawing of a dragon. Its scales were dark, with grey fur rolling out from its long neck like storm clouds across the night sky. Four horns reached out of its forehead, forming a star-like crown behind its spiked ears. The throat of the beast crackled with jagged lines depicting a golden lightning. Its wings were thick and muscular, serrated barbs piercing through the shoulders.

Most terrible of all were its eyes. The horrid dark eyes were set deep into the dragon’s brow. Dripping from the sockets was a gold liquid that spilled onto its wicked teeth. Below the drawing were the only words they had seen that either of them could read.

“I will kill you.”

A voice spoke clearly behind them, “Doing some reading, are we?”

Morgana stood over them, looking down at the book with her cat-like eyes. Frank slammed it shut and stood, wincing as he did.

“I-I…” he stammered. Gostor was trying to grab back the book. Morgana grabbed it out of Frank’s hands, pushing him back as she did.

He stumbled backward into the shelves, his calf burning. As he steadied himself, Morgana’s hand grabbed his jaw. Her eyes began to glow a deep purple and her hands grew very cold. The light he had summoned disappeared and the room was plunged into total darkness once more.

Ice climbed over his mouth, stinging his skin with the frigid blast. Gostor growled and began to charge at her leg, but a wave of force knocked him backward.

“I let you into my home. I bind your wounds. I shelter you. And you invade my privacy?”

With every word, the ice grew colder and spread across more of his face. His eyes were wide. He grabbed at her arm, trying desperately to conjure a spell to melt the ice, but his magic wouldn’t work and his tattoos remained dark.

She brought her face close to his, “Get upstairs. Now.”

As she pushed him away, the ice shattered and his jaw was freed. The skin around his mouth quickly grew red and his lips darkened. He slid past her, grabbing Gostor on his way. She followed them to the ladder, watching them scramble up. When they made it to the top, she pulled the ladder from the hole.

Gostor stomped grumpily to a pile of blankets and threw himself down. Breathing heavily, Frank held his hands to his face, warming back up. He sat against the wall, heart still racing. When he had calmed down, he laid his head back.

We gotta start leaving books alone, he thought.