Eliza shrieked and Mallory turned to look back at her friend, whose foot had gone through one of the stairs. She turned back to help and suddenly the world fell out from underneath her.

It was chaos and cacophony. The flashlight beam flipped through the air, briefly highlighting falling wood and dust and Mallory shut her eyes tight and clamped her jaw shut as she heard Eliza screaming. The thought crossed her mind, ‘I’m dead.’ She felt a slight shock at how ambivalent she was about the fact – accepting even. It took seconds, though it felt longer. She felt strong arms envelope her, felt her stomach give a confused lurch as gravity righted itself, felt her feet placed firmly on the ground. Coughing in the falling grit and sawdust, a moment of panic overtook her as she wondered who was touching her, and she remembered the dark shadow at the top of the stairs. She reached for her knife, grabbed it, flipped the blade out, and slashed – all in a practiced, smooth motion, as she had been taught.

Further confusion – the arms pushed away and she felt like the nerve endings of her fingers all fired at once, the pins and needle feeling of a sleeping limb coming back to life, only a hundred times worse. Mallory cried out as her knife flung out of her hand of its own volition. “Is that any way to thank the person that saved you?” a strangely accented voice admonished.

Mallory looked up, but her eyes were drawn first to what was caught in the light. The flashlight had fallen just right to perfectly illuminate the scene, and with the dust twirling in the air and catching the light it gave everything a more ethereal feel. Standing directly in the beam of the light was Isaac (or so Mallory assumed), his arms tightly around Eliza. He must have caught her, Mallory realized. He was staring straight into her eyes with an expression that communicated surprise and wonder. He did not appear to be bothered by her weight, and was holding her effortlessly, pressed tightly against him. The two stared at each other wordlessly.

Mallory breathed in deeply, which turned out to be a mistake – with all the dust in the air, she burst into a sudden and uncontrollable coughing fit, breaking their reverie. She opened and closed the hand that had seared with pain moments ago, and then started rubbing her palm with the thumb of her other hand – it felt fine now. As Eliza and Isaac sheepishly separated, Mallory looked to her own rescuer, a thin youth of moderate height, with long black hair.

There was something about his features that reminded Mallory of a trickster spirit like Puck – maybe the arch of his eyebrows, or the sharp point of his slightly upturned nose. Mallory was still coughing horribly in the dust, much to her annoyance. Is no one else affected by this shit? she thought to herself. “We should get out of here,” Isaac said, and led Eliza by the hand off toward the stairs to the kitchen.