The Storybook

The Storybook was acquired by Silco from The Library when he asked about Carrion, then partially shared on the network around the time of The Van breakout and subsequent messages from the house and The Watcher. There may be a second book not widely disclosed.

Full text

The pages of this book are not publically available information unless explicitly specified as having been shared by the character, as indicated by (public) in the header.

Untitled Introduction (public)

At first, there is only a quiet, mournful groan — what might resemble sympathetic comfort, from a more human mouth. Should he stay, the Library eventually produces the soft, inked colors of a children’s book. In gold leaf foiling, stretched across its cover, is an almost girlish print of its title: THE LITTLE BOOK OF GUARDIANS by none other than A. Carrion. A blurry rendition of Saltburnt looms beneath, the lights in the windows shifting from darkness into brilliant bulbs, with every angle Silco examines it from.

When Silco opens it, the pictures seem to spring and pop from the page — handpainted in watercolors, splashing whimsically across the page. On the first page, the House peers back at him with shining windows like brilliant eyes; the prickling sensation of being watched creeps over Silco’s neck. Across the page, it says:

Once upon a hush,
In a house made of drawers,
The House felt a hurting
Beneath all its floors.

So it whispered into the wind
And the wind brought people.

They didn’t come by accident.
The House called them, one by one.

PAGE 1 — THE SHIELD OF THE BLUE FLAME (public)

Silco turns the page to find an illustration of himself, a blue flame cupped reverently in one hand. The Silco that exists on the page appears blind to the loom of teeth in the shadows, a faint sketch that haunts the background.

"He learned from the fire,
He learned from the night,
He learned how to guard
Long before he learned ‘right.’

He knew doors that shut hard,
He knew love that felt small,
So the House softly whispered,
“I need him most of all.”

For he’s touched the dark places
Where the wolf-games once came,
And he still held his candle
With its brave little flame.

He can stand in the shadows,
He can shoulder the blame —
For a guardian is strongest
When the dark knows his name.”

PAGE 2 — THE BLUE FLAME (public)

A girl who seems made of electricity, hair sparking into blue flames. The tattoos across her body dance, as if to the beating of a wild pulse.

"She crackled like thunder,
She sparked like the sun,
A girl made of wildfire
Who never could run.

The wolves tried to bite her
(They don’t like bright things),
But she burned like a lantern
And frightened their kings.

The House whispered gently,
“Come here, little light.
I need someone brave
Who can scare back the night.”

For a storm in two shoes
Is a rare, precious sight —
And she guards with a grin
And a flame burning bright.”

PAGE 3 — THE TWIN STARS (public)

Two girls stand back-to-back — one eclipsed in shadow, the other glinting in sunlight. Clutched in their hands: twin stakes. Tiny ears have been drawn onto the shadow sister.

"Two sisters of sunlight
And midnight combined,
One fierce with her fury,
One bright enough to blind.

They battled the monsters,
They battled themselves,
They battled in stories
That sat on high shelves.

One once wore the wolf-fur,
One once fought the beast,
But together they guard
Both the strongest and least.

The House called them softly,
For courage comes in pairs —
And some foes are too heavy
For one heart to bear.”

PAGE 4 — THE MAN OF TWO WORLDS

A man in a suit reaching toward the distant figure of a fleeting lover — one hand tied behind his back. Behind him, wolfish shadows slip between the shadows, baring sharp canines.

“He walked between shadows,
And walked between lies,
With a cage in his chest
And a mask in his eyes.

He followed the wolf-song,
He played in the game,
But he never forgot
The man in his name.

The House whispered, “You see things
Most others look past.
You can spot hidden danger
And the snake in the grass.”

For guardians need watchers
Who know every face —
Even ones that wear smiles
That don’t match this place.”

PAGE 5 — THE LITTLE QUEEN OF CUT GLASS

A diamond crown, gemstones cracked down the middle, rests ahead the head of a dark-haired girl. Her chin tips upward, defiant. Tiny wolves heel beneath her gaze, tails wagged and obedient.

“Once there was a Little Queen,
Not of castles, nor of crown,
But of every quiet corner
Where the world put forgotten things down.

She did not need an army,
Nor a banner, nor a throne —
For she ruled with grit and clever,
And she ruled her heart alone.

My halls need a ruler
Who sees through the dark.
My heart needs a keeper
With a cut-glass spark.

So I chose her to be my bones, my spine —
Ani, Anora, both divine,
For a House that aches for guidance
Needs a cut-glass queen like mine.”

PAGE 6 — THE KIND SOLDIER WHO FLED THE SEA

A sailor boy stares out into a sea of shadows, clutching a compass in his tight grip. From the treeline, a wolf with bright, orange eyes like burnished lanterns watches on. A grave stone is rendered lovingly in the corner.

“A sailor-boy steady,
With courage held tight,
Who followed his orders
Through fear and through fright.

He tried to stop monsters
No matter how grim,
And the House still remembers
The heart found in him.

He fell to the wolf-game,
He sank in the fray,
But bravery is bravery
Even halfway.

The House kissed his memory,
And whispered his name —
For guardians are chosen
By heart, not by fame.”

PAGE 7 — THE SMILING STORM

The next page is purely chaotic — doodles of little explosions, bombs, guns. A smiley face on the page bears too many teeth in a wide, manic grin. He leaps across the page like a vibration of thunder, toward a toothed, prehistoric tiger and its twitching tail.

"He fought with a giggle,
He guarded with glee,
A cyclone in sneakers
Who loved recklessly.

He leapt at the monsters
With laughter and roar,
And scared even wolves
Who’d seen chaos before.

The House sometimes snickered
(Though Houses don’t laugh!)
For his joy was a weapon
More sharp than a staff.

It chose him for loving
Too loudly to hide —
For guardians need hearts
That explode from inside.”

PAGE 8 — THE PILOT WHO FLEW WITHOUT SKY

A paper airplane spirals across the page. It leads to a boy in a flight jacket, boots planted, chin held high — smiling in the face of danger, facing off against a wolf with needle-fangs.

“Once there was a pilot,
Who carried sky inside,
For home to him was courage,
And the place where clouds collide.

They called him Hangman, laughing,
For he’d leave you hanging too;
Not out of spite or malice —
It was just the way he flew.

But loyalty is quiet,
It hides beneath the roar —
And though he left some waiting,
He stayed where it mattered more.

The House watched how he anchored
To the few he let draw near —
How he’d guard them without falter,
Without flinching, without fear.

And the House said,
“Loyal hearts are rare,
Braver still than skies above.
Reckless boys make strongest shields
When they choose the ones they love.”

PAGE 9 — THE SCARLET MOTHER (public)

A woman robed in red, tiny threads of crimson in her outstretched hands. Tears leak from her eyes.

“She carried whole worlds
In the red of her hands,
And sorrow that stretched
Over far-away lands.

Her love was a mountain,
Her grief was a sea,
And she held every memory
Carefully.

The House bowed before her—
For Houses know well
How mothers turn ashes
To something that swells.”

PAGE 10 — THE HUNTER WHO KEPT THE NIGHT AWAKE (public)

A tired boy wielding a Colt revolver; monsters of all shapes, not solely wolves, blink over his shoulder.

“He followed the footprints
Of monsters and men,
He hunted, and hunted,
And hunted again.

The wolves tried to trick him
With teeth and with lies,
But he kept on walking
With fire in his eyes.

The House chose him quiet,
No trumpet, no break —
For some guardians keep watch
So others may not wake.”

PAGE 11 — THE PRAYER THAT KICKED BACK

A cigarette rises between the knuckles of a boy, blond and buoyant, spinning through the air mid-kick. A wolf’s eyes go cartoonishly wide as it’s vaulted back to the treeline.

“He fought like a blessing,
He loved like a bruise,
With feet that spun lightning
And kindness he’d choose.

He fed all the hungry,
He shielded the small,
And he kicked every danger
That threatened them all.

The House tapped his shoulder,
"Come, boy, take your place —
For guardians with kindness
Are rare in this space.’”

PAGE 12 — THE SORCERER WHO STOOD WATCH TOO LONG & THE WOMAN OF HALF-LIGHT (public)

A cloak floats toward a boy, spinning wheels of light within his hands. The shadows seem to retreat, as if burned by the watchful, violently bright eye he produces. By his side, a woman with blunt bangs and a palm that glows; she winces, struck by pain.

“He guarded the doorways,
He stitched up the seam,
He stood spinestrong and silent
When rest was his dream.

The House watched him closely
And whispered, “You see —
A weary-eyed sentinel
Is perfect for me.”

Beside him a woman
Half-shadow, half-glow,
Who walked with a burden
Only she seemed to know.

She doubted, decided,
Then doubted again —
But choosing is bravery
Greater than men.

The House called her softly,
“Come stand in my light —
For guardians are forged
From the courage to fight.’”

PAGE 13 — THE THREE WHO SERVE THE STAR MAKER.

The remaining pages taper off into sketches Silco may or may not recognize, silhouettes belonging to the Hex Club and its members — a fox bounding playfully, a boy defending another beneath a starry paper shield, a tree sprouting from the earth, a girl wielding a knife as a ghostly mask lurks by the window, but perhaps it’s the final page that heralds the biggest clue.

“They came because I called them,
Each one, small or tall.
They guard because they’re needed —
I needed them all.

For a House with a heartbeat,
A House made of fears,
Chooses friends like a child
Who has waited for years.

They guard me from breaking,
I guard them from harm
And the ones who guard hardest
I keep in my arm.”

References

Silco's Library request
Silco's network post