Hineni stands in the library, flipping through pages in a book.

It is the middle of the night once more and he couldn’t sleep, his pestering thoughts nagging at the back of his mind.

He flips a page, looking at the grotesque illustrations of some distorted monster. Then, he flips over to the next one. Then the next one.

Each image shown in the book is some horrible, gangrenous monster. They are creatures, said to roam in the deep forests of the southern region of the world. Forests aren’t just quaint, cute places where nature can thrive in quiet peace. Thriving populations attract predators.

The more predators there are in a location, the deadlier they must become, in order to not fall behind the other species in their hunts and fights of survival.

The next page shows a strange, long-armed creature with two, hooked claws. It’s shown as being taller than several men stacked together, its body rising out of what appears to be a simple pond, not larger than the bath in his own home.

He tilts his head, reading the description. This monster apparently uses its two long, curved claws to pull people into the water with its very long arms. Given the shallow basins that it lives in and the length of its body, it seems to be a successful hunter.

‘The thing that gurgles’

It is sourced from an elven book, so many of the translations aren’t possible in clean, simple words. Many of the words of their language can only be translated into full phrases and half-sentences in the human tongue to achieve a similar meaning.

He turns the page, looking at a new creature. This one is different. The paper is entirely blacked out, crusted and crunchy with ink. Only the silhouette of a man, holding a torch, remains uncolored. Its light does nothing to pierce the veil of darkness around him.

‘The thing that whispers’

When one is alone in the deepest, darkest places of the world, there is often a voice in one’s head. It is a voice that speaks of terrible dangers. It tells us to watch behind ourselves. It is in every snap of a broken twig to our sides. It is in every thud of a fallen branch, behind the tree-line. In every echo and every resonance that carries through the dull, muted air of the deep-forest, resides the thing that whispers.

Some say that it is not real. It is simply fear and paranoia. These are things that one is rightful to have in such a place, especially alone.

Others however claim that the thing that whispers isn’t just a feeling of fear. It is a very real, tangible entity that stalks the forest canopies like a shadow, looming over the head of anyone it finds astray. It coats them in darkness and fills them with doubts, causing them to misstep, to be unsure of their direction, to turn around and return into a long-distance they have already cleared.

Its goal is to cause those who get lost in the forest to hunger, to fall and then, when they are weak and immobile — it comes.

And all the while, it whispers of doubts, of fears, of regrets.

“Things get pretty dark down there in the south, huh?” asks a quiet voice from the other side of the shelves.

Hineni lifts his gaze towards the shelf. “Sorry. Am I keeping you up?” he asks. He looks back down to the book. “At least now I know why the military wanted ballistas for down there.” Didn’t Rhine call them ‘ballistae’? Is that the right word? He doesn’t really know. Oh well.

“No, it’s okay,” replies Seltsam. “I was already in my pajamas and stuff, but I can’t sleep tonight. Moon’s too bright, you know?”

Hineni blinks, looking up towards the distant windows on the upper floor of the library. “…The moon?” he asks. “Looks like a normal full moon to me, Seltsam.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “It’s just, you know…”

“No,” replies Hineni, looking back down at his book of monsters.

“- Full moon is when people go hunting,” says Seltsam. “The light helps them see outside, without having to make fire,” she explains. “Sockel’s types like the new-moon, because it's dark. But hunters like the full-moon.”

Hineni turns the page, looking at the next monster, the next thing that hunts during a full-moon.

‘A thing that skitters’

“You’re safe, Seltsam,” he says, looking at the odd depiction of a monster that winds around the page. It has a thousand legs and then behind it are a thousand more. The inking is so fine and detailed, that it is close to being indistinguishable from the full blacking out of the last section. “Nobody is going to hunt you here.”

“I- I know,” she says. “Thank you. It’s just… you know.”

“Old habits?” asks Hineni.

“Old trauma,” replies Seltsam. “I never used to sleep on nights with a full-moon. It was too dangerous,” she explains. “Now that I can, I just… can’t.” He can hear her wandering around, pacing. But then she stops and slides down against the shelf, presumably sitting on the floor. “I get ready for bed and I’m super tired. I clean my face and my teeth. I put on my pajamas and I lay down and I just… can’t sleep.” There is a soft thudding. “It’s the worst.”

“I used to have nights like that,” says Hineni, flipping the page again. “For different reasons, but I did.”

“Did it go away?” she asks.

Hineni stares at the horrific depiction of a man being held up into the air by invisible claws, his eyes being sucked out of his screaming face.

‘The thing that reaches’.

“Guess not,” he says. “I’m here, right?”

“Oh, haha!” she replies, laughing awkwardly. “I guess so.”

Hineni looks around the library. “Why don’t you ask Eilig to sleep over?” he asks. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled.”

“Uh… well… the truth is,” starts Seltsam. She’s quiet for a time. “- I get cold easily, you know?”

“Ah. I can see how that would be a problem,” replies Hineni. “Do you need more blankets?” he asks. “I’ll tell Sockel to order you some more.”

He flips to the next page and winces. This just keeps getting worse.

“Thank you for always being so nice to me,” she replies. “I’m really grateful. I’ve never had a job and a place to live before.”

“At all, or at the same time?” asks Hineni, looking at a depiction of a mass of people, pierced through the very top of their heads by what looks like spider’s silk. They’re held aloft, like puppets. Their eyes shine with a light signifying a presence remaining in their bodies, but at the same time, there is a dullness to their looks.

“I don’t get many interviews, you know?” she replies. “I spent months walking from the north-east until I found just… anything,” says Seltsam. “It was really hard for me to get into the city. Don’t ask me about that, okay?”

Hineni shrugs.

“Anyways. I always liked books. I didn’t know how to read, but I figured it out eventually.”

“Where did you get your books?” he asks, flipping the page.

“- People brought them to me,” she replies.

Hineni lifts an eyebrow, looking towards the shelf and then up again towards the windows, behind which shines the full-moon. “People, or hunters?”

“I uh… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine. Don’t sweat it,” replies Hineni. “I’ve killed loads of people,” he says. “It all started when I was a boy…”

She laughs, but then stops herself. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed about that, right?”

“It was a joke,” says Hineni. “It would have been worse if you didn’t.” He blinks, looking around the dark library. “Weird. Have we had this conversation before? It feels familiar.” He shakes his head. “Anyways, we do what we have to do, Seltsam,” says Hineni, closing the book back shut. “If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be where we are now.” He slides it back into the shelf. “For what it's worth, I’m glad you made it. I doubt I would have found a better worker anywhere else in this place.”

He looks around the library, listening to her shuffling around on the other side, not saying much.

In the dark, it’s a very overpowering place. The tall shelves. The inner balcony hanging over the edge above. The obscuring maze. The long shadows that drape over the furniture like a musty blanket.

— This is what he gets for reading spooky stories at night, but he can’t help but think of the whispering monster he just read about.

Having to sleep here alone during a bad night must be rough.

“Seltsam. You can go to bed,” says Hineni, wandering over to a shelf. “I still need to do some work. So I’ll be over here for a while.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry,” replies Hineni, walking to the side and letting his finger hover above his second book for the night. He stops and then slides over one more, to his third, grabbing it. “I’ll stay on this side, down here. I promise.”

“Well… okay,” she says, getting up. She doesn’t actually sound too reactant, which is understandable. He imagines that she’s probably tired. Her steps wander to the corner of a section which she has set herself up in and then he can hear the sound of her nesting into bed.

Hineni looks down at the book in his hands, hoping it’s something less intense. He’s going to stay here for an hour or two, until she falls asleep. So some light material would be a welcome change of pace.

- [Book] - "An assassin’s guide on avoiding assassination"

- Quality -

Normal

- Composition - 115 pages 19 Illustrations

- Quality Effects -

None

A survival guide written by assassins, for assassins. 'Written and published by the nobody that you need to know about' Weight: 1.06kg Value: 255 Obols

Hineni sighs.

“Good night!” calls a voice from behind the shelves. Hineni turns his head, noticing that it seems closer than a moment ago. She must have moved her bed.

“Good night,” replies Hineni, turning back to look at the book in his hands. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

He flips it open to the first page, wondering what sage advice it has to give him.

1. Run.

“Ah, hell…” mutters Hineni quietly under his breath. Do they even have any nice books in this place? Or is it all like this? He supposes he’s stuck here now. He sighs, sitting down on a chair and looking into the book, listening to the sound of blankets on the other side of the shelf.

Oh well. It’s nice to be able to do something for people now and then.