The boy cradled his hand carefully. It was cold, as if he'd just dipped it into a bucket of icy water. It responded when he tried to move his fingers but he couldn't feel them - like they really were frozen, but only the circle was dead white on the back of his hand, and the skin around it looked healthy and alive. He didn't remember how it had gotten there, only that it hadn't been there before he'd fallen.

He rubbed his hand and glanced aside. The icy walls of his sanctuary were the same, still seamless, still no visible exit; only the hole in the ceiling through which he'd fallen. Like a temple, the walls vaulted up to that tiny point, high above him, the arching ceiling supported by smooth, unmarked pillars. It was similar to other ruins he'd seen in Aronia when he and his cell had been moved around to work in different regions.

Even though the chamber was clearly empty aside from the altar, he had the distinct sense that someone was there with him, watching. Searching with his eyes was futile, returning only his own warped reflection on the glassy walls. "Who's there?" He coughed. A slave always knew when he was being watched. The ones that didn't never lasted long.

Nothing answered him, naturally, but he couldn't shake the feeling. He clung to a pillar and hauled himself to his feet. How was he supposed to get out of here?

The circle on his hand tingled, and his fingers twitched. He rubbed it absently and leaned against the pillar, staring again at the opening in the ceiling. There was no sign of glass or any other covering, yet he knew he'd not seen a hole when he was walking. Something must have camoflauged it... which meant something might still be camoflauging it, and preventing him from being found. It wouldn't help at all if someone else fell through...

Freezing, stabbing pain flashed in his hand, making him cry out. It was gone in an instant, and left him gasping and staring at the circle. The lines shimmered, the way water shimmers when touched by the sun.

Use me.

The boy stared. Then he glanced around again quickly, up, down, to the side. "Who's there?" His voice took on a slightly nervous edge as he pressed his back to the pillar. Enemies were one thing - he'd had to fight monsters before in the fields, in the mines, but he'd always been able to see them.

Do not be afraid. I will help you.

He snorted. Help him - the way the overseer helped him, and anyone else unfortunate enough to draw attention to themselves?

Do not be afraid, it repeated. He realized whatever it was had not spoken aloud, and he was chilled further, the cold emanating from his hand not one bit of help.

Runes didn't talk, did they? He thought it must be one, even though he'd never seen one quite like it, and he'd surely be in trouble for possessing it when he returned. Slaves weren't allowed to bear runes, and he had no idea how this one had come to be on his hand. He wanted it off! They'd take it away from him anyway. Being accused of stealing was not how he wanted to start the solstice season.

The feeling of being watched intensified. They will not take me away from you. If he'd thought runes could talk and feel, he'd have said there was something smug in the way it spoke. Let me help you. The chill softened, and he found he could move his fingers again.

"Why?" He felt ridiculous, talking to his hand. "Why should I listen to you? Who are you? What are you?"

I am harmony.

Harmony? There was no rune that - well, at least he didn't think there was--

Allow me to take care of you. I will not lead you astray.


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So, yeah, I have reasons for this.

In fact, I talked about them at length in a journal entry, if you care to read them. Hikusaak fascinates me, and I'm always eager to hear other opinions about him.