Taní cracked the door open, inviting a blade of light into his room. He’d been expecting a bright, blinding flash, but the faux incandescence that lined the ceiling flickered with the dim strength of a candle. Nighttime. How it could do this, he still wasn’t certain. No one could explain it. Not even the instructors!


    He strained his ears, hoping to catch the slightest hints of boots clicking against the too clean floor, or even the legendary whispers of a likeness, but there was nothing. Just that unsteady substitute for silence. Not true noise, but a mimicry of the rustling Coros countryside that imbued the atmosphere. When he failed to make out footsteps, he peeked over the door’s edge. No one around… Perfect.


    He thrust his Brand into its sheath, sloppily buttoned his already crooked shirt, and then stepped into the hall. The air shifted behind him, aligning the door’s presence to the slot. It materialized like a sheet of torrential rain. Pouring in every direction until it formed a solid white fa?ade. Thankfully, the zip-click of its close only betrayed the murmur of a whisper.


    Taní slinked in the shadows, traveling up the north-western edge of the hall. Everyone should''ve been resting now, or at least they had to be. Half before midnight wasn’t exactly a normal time to be out and about. Getting a good night’s rest should’ve been Taní’s number one priority. Presenting his project (he had somehow cobbled together during the last five minutes of grace) half-asleep wouldn’t do him any favors, but he really wanted to see if the rumors were true. The likeness might be his only chance of igniting his Awakening. That or dying of a heart attack after it spontaneously manifested.


    The ghostly zip-click of a faux door caused Taní to stiffen, and, abandoning any prospect of comfort, jumped into a knee-shuddering crouch. He scooted down the hall with all the haste of an assassin, stopping only when he stood a respectable distance from the source: Someone’s room. And as was expected of the nobility, a plate displaying their house''s heraldry adorned the rightmost wall to their door. Nothing physical, for the most part, could be attached to the thing. This emblem depicted a partially submerged blade in a pond, a stark thick of dark trees encompassing it. Just why was it so...familiar?


    A Cycle-thinning moment later, the door’s fa?ade dissipated like sparks in the air, revealing a familiar set of blonde hair and tired crimson-green eyes.


    ?zar.


    A second figure emerged from the shadows, their dark, slender arms wrapping around his midsection.


    “Where’re you going?” said the shadow, her voice thick with the drowsy weight of sleep.


    “I’m just getting some fresh air, Caní.”


    The girl grumbled as she drew him back into the shadows, but to no avail. “It’s past curfew, Cizí.”


    “I know,” he murmured, his hand drifting to hers.


    “Then go back to bed, please…”


    “I will in a bit. I just need some fresh air.”


    “Are you nervous?”


    “No, good sleep is just hard to come by.”


    Taní sidled away, hesitated, then—against his better judgment—returned to his box seat. His quaking legs might hate him for the impromptu wall sit, but wouldn’t hurt to verify those rumors now, would it?


    “Am—” Canela tightened her embrace. “Am I doing a poor job? I’m doing what I can, really, but maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I’m just too young. I know the council’s been quiet, but another two years—”


    ?zar turned with a too-tight step. “You’re doing fine. Better than fine, in fact.”


    “You say that, but I know it''s not true. Everyone’s upset, and it’s all my fault. If I’d stayed quiet and hadn’t convinced them you’d save us, then maybe they wouldn’t…” Her words became muffled, almost as if she’d buried her face in a pillow. “I’m sorry, Cizí. I shouldn''t have plied it on you."


    “You keep apologizing, and I keep telling you there’s nothing to apologize for.”


    “You’re lying. I know you are…”


    He brushed a hand into the dark. “Come, Caní. Would I ever lie to you?”


    “You do,” her voice wavered like an icy Redtide shower. “You always do whenever you’re upset. Just like mother.”


    Taní sidled towards their sanctuary, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness. He caught the third-year tenderly wiping the glistening moisture from her cheeks. “You saying I’m upset is giving me a reason to be upset, Caní. No point in mulling about it, is there?” ?zar paused. “Do you know what that means?”


    Canela sniffled. “No.”


    “It means we’ve much catching up to do, and you know who’ll bring us there?” He tapped her head. “This smart little girl right here. So whip up a scheme! I want to see those Houses burn.”


    Canela’s trembling fingers sank into the back of ?zar’s nightshirt. “Fine, but you owe me,” she rasped.


    “Owe you for what?”


    “For shouldering your work. I swear, you wouldn’t survive one second without me.”


    ?zar ruffled her hair, scattering the thick locks into a frazzled heap. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just tell me what you want.”


    “…I want you to wear it.”


    A sigh heavier than an anchor escaped ?zar’s lips. “Wear what?”


    “It. Y’know, the thing you stole for me. The thing you claimed had gone missing from mother’s jewelry box. And I don’t want you wearing it for a few hours. I want you to wear it for the entire semester, and I mean it!” Canela demanded, each addition hammering the air.


    ?zar’s response? A begrudging groan. “God…don’t tell me you’re gonna wear it, too.”


    “You’re the one who made the vow, so man up, you spineless dumbass.”


    “Alright, fine, but if anyone asks, I’m not gonna explain.”


    “Fine by me. Only I need to know the truth.”


    There was a brief, fleeting silence as ?zar gently pressed her into the depths of the room’s darkness. Taní craned his neck to capture a better glimpse, but when all he caught was ?zar’s back and Canela’s arms, he grew restless. He wasn’t shameless; he was just…deathly curious to see what was happening.


    That’s when he heard it: The unmistakable gasp of a delicate exchange. Marked by the gentle mingling of breath.


    Taní’s heart raced. He knew it wasn’t a smart idea to spy on a person’s private life, but then again…


    His daring drew him into the greater hall. He could almost see it: Where their heads met. It was almost like—


    “Promise me you won’t be long,” Canela murmured.


    ?zar drew back into the hall. “I won’t.”


    Panicked, Taní bolted. He wasn’t even aware his sidle could outpace his sprint.


    Finally, Taní arrived at his destination: Fadénix hall. The burning dancer emblazoned upon the gates, its size twice that of an average man. He had never seen the place closed off before, but in the dimness, the proud orange bird glowed.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    There weren’t many unique qualities regarding the burning dancer. It was a tall bird from Kastel with an odd penchant for stomping out fires. The arid wilderness near Ranestadé—the Coros fort city that sealed off access from the rest of the Westerlans—had little vegetation considering its proximity to the mountains. He had, however, seen a great number of burning dancers wander near the settlement, their fearless dark eyes scanning the horizon for the next life-destroying fire.


    The memory left Taní feeling a little more…appreciative that his House’s emblem was such a fearless animal.


    Drawing his Brand, he swiped at the gate. Instead of harmlessly phasing through the barrier, the blunt dagger skipped across the solid surface. Frowning, Taní repeated the process, channeling more power into his swipe.


    The Brand skated across the surface like an awkward pebble before slipping from his grasp and landing with a soft clatter. Miffed, Taní retrieved his dagger, checked it, then unleashed a flurry of thrusts at the gate. Summoning his inner Nimmian and stabbing the gate until his arm went slack.


    That’s a right bloody tough door.


    Taní leaned against the gate, hoping to recover his strength before he resumed his efforts, but the moment he did, the doors parted.


    Wait.


    He pushed against one half, which resulted in it winding open without resistance.


    Of course, it’s the only normal door in this bloody building.


    Taní entered the dim hall with an exasperated stomp. The air hummed with the sting of a harpsichord, though who or what was playing it, he didn’t know. Half-filled mugs littered the tables, furniture inside the partitioned rooms pushed into one corner to appear “organized,” and the dueling ring that occupied the very center of the grand hall could not decide whether it wanted to be a storage closet or a trash bin.


    Apparently, people didn’t fight in the ring. They played a Juneac?o-based card game. Weird.


    Despite the scattered nature of his two-tiered hall, a prickling disquiet settled in his gut. It was darker. Less inviting. As if a mire lurker skulked around the corner, ready to snatch him.


    Naturally, Taní’s first instinct was to leave. The hall was massive, after all. He was more likely to get lost than discover something worthwhile with all these twists and turns.


    Not that he listened to these right-minded warnings.


    Taní blindly reached for the gate, but before he could turn around, the echoing shuffle of footsteps prompted him to spin. A cold, dark hall devoid of activity stared back at him like a beast’s gaping maw. The sound shifted, flitting from east to west, then back up north. Taní expected to find the spectral likeness of his House’s founder, yet the inky darkness crept closer to him. Threatening to devour the looming light.


    It writhed with an unbridled glee; a gasp lighter than air betraying the atmosphere. It almost sounded like…a laugh? Someone so excited to be found that they partially debated lunging at their seeker. Eager to taunt them once again.


    And Taní could do naught but idle.


    No. His mind was just playing tricks on him. He just needed to think of something else. Something real.


    He nodded to no one in particular, his gaze drifting to the wavering light above. Did someone light those every morning? That must’ve been terrifying, or a hassle, considering they had little in the way of illuminating their path. Then again, an inextricable link to the academy’s systems could clarify why they appeared so. What with it being beyond their ken.


    Taní stuck towards the center path, hoping the slim lighting would aid in his return if he became lost. A worst-case scenario, of course. While clambering over these partitions and investigating the area from up on high did sound appealing, he lacked the balance and finesse of a Juneac?o.


    “Hello?” he called out in a quivering voice.


    The fluttering of a robe ripped through the silence. He traced its source, but as quickly as it came, it vanished.


    Taní drew his Brand and pointed it at the darkness. Taking after the example of his fearless predecessors, he warily crept down the passage. The light refracted off the dagger’s surface.


    Vents of dreary orange light pierced the darkness, revealing mahogany tomes, dirty brown shelves, rickety desks, and scattered chairs students had forgotten to replace. One time, he even stumbled into a slithering shape that coiled about his ankles. This led to a slight scuffle where Taní rolled around the floor, frantically wrestling with the beast serpent that threatened to sink its fangs into him. His screams, being the all-powerful squire he was were, of course, used simply to intimidate it.


    Yeah. That.


    When he rolled into the light, the deadly beast turned out to be none other than one of those peculiar plush dolls the nobility had taken a special liking to. Taní wasn’t certain if he was more embarrassed by his reaction, or angry at the stupid bright-blue Vlasalisk grinning back at him.


    Taní cast the toy aside and continued down his route. The footsteps weren’t there to guide him, so he picked a random direction and hoped it would lead him to the likeness.


    A mighty crash sounded in the distance. It came again, and again, like a thunderous storm hailing from the eastern Fadenician dispensers.


    Taní sped towards the aisle, but instead of catching the ethereal apparition of his founder, he saw a huddled figure with a basket full of cans.


    “You there!” Taní shouted. “Whaddya think you’re doing?”


    The figure whirled around, revealing none other than a startled Jaster. “Oh, gave me a right fright, Tan-Tan.” He stopped. “Kinda late to be wandering around. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”


    “Shouldn’t you be in a hall that isn’t Fadénix’s? And what’s with all the cans? Are you stealing from us?”


    “Stealing?” Jaster arched a brow. “What reason would I have to steal? You guys got the best flavors in the school.”


    “I hardly think it’s normal to buy a drink at this hour. Why’re you here?”


    “Good deeds go best unnoticed?”


    Taní frowned. “Being oblique isn’t helping.”


    “Oh!” Jaster’s eyes flashed with the slightest hint of amusement. “Big words for a commoner. Looks like you really were paying attention in class. Well, if you must know, you guys got the cheapest cans. And besides, it’s easier to buy them in bulk when no one’s looking. Especially when you know the secret.”


    “Secret?”


    Jaster brandished his dagger, selected one of the various glyphs projecting from the dispenser, and then swiped at the construct. The thing let out a distinctive rumble as it ejected a can from its interior, but before it could gracefully float upon its invisible river, Jaster bashed his shoulder against its face. This resulted in two cans being undone instead of one.


    “That.” Jaster cast his thumb at the machine.


    “Jaster, that’s stealing! Fadénix is already the sticks. Do you really have to steal from us?”


    “That’s why I’m tripling up.”


    Taní tilted his head. “Say again?”


    “Our Brands allow us to grant a set bonus to the provider. We call them tips. No one likes giving tips, though…” Jaster picked at an icon and swiped again. This time, he didn’t shoulder bash the construct. “Rumor says Fadénix’ll be low on SG until the semester ends, so I thought I’d be a noble Juneac?o and do them a favor. Just this once.”


    Taní drew the Nimmian into a suffocating embrace. He might''ve suffered a kick or two, but he didn''t care; he just squeezed the thrashing first year with all the appreciation he could physically muster.


    Jaster then asked him what he was doing wandering the halls so late at night, and so Taní explained his quest. Mentioning the rumor of the likeness that wandered the halls. The Nimmian laughed it off as superstition, though to make up for his mockery, he offered Taní a can. They drank as they explored the halls, enjoying a hushed back and forth.


    Taní learned of vague, age-old techniques (after some subtle probing) squires abused during the Three Nations’ War. Most involved some direct manner of consumption. Whether that be a Juneac?o’s flat blood or their stirred Sedd. He didn’t completely understand it himself, but Jaster expounded upon their archaic reasoning. Claiming the process similar to that of Tygenna’s initial blessing to man.


    Taní took another sip of his drink and grimaced. He didn’t particularly enjoy the bubbling-pop sensation, but who could turn down a good time? Their feet led them to Vlasalisk hall, and strangely enough, it was still open. Populated by chatty fourth- and fifth-year students.


    Jaster explained that, aside from the SG one could earn in a tourney, the winner’s House received an extended curfew.


    Thankfully, no one wore their cape, so Taní and Jaster went unnoticed. A small part of Taní had been hoping to find Lavisa reposing in the reading corner, but alas, it was empty.


    Taní excused himself from Jaster’s side as he finished his can. On his way to dump the container, he caught a hushed exchange. And it came from a voice he’d heard not long ago.


    He crept around the corner until he glimpsed a wooden alcove. One ?zar and Innes currently occupied.


    “…You’re that desperate, aren’t you?” Innes smirked.


    ?zar’s eyes, drawn to the side, displayed only reluctance. “You’d be, too, if you were in my situation.”


    “If I were you, I wouldn’t reduce myself to some duplicitous beggar. I’d only hone my skills until I was more than capable of restoring my House. Perhaps you Fadenicians just lack proper work ethic.”


    “Yeah. Maybe.”


    Innes laughed. “Oh, I like you. You know your place better than the rest of your ilk. That means there’s still hope for you.”


    “I—” ?zar’s head fell. “I''m honored."


    “You know, you strike me as a fine candidate for transfer. We’ve a useless fry in our ranks. They’ve neither the courage nor strength of our proud founder, but you?” Innes folded his arms. “I’ve seen the way you fight. You’re good. Too good for that washed out hut of thin-blooded rejects. I’d say you’re better than their champion, so what gives? Why’d you turn down the title? And don’t tell me it was because of your injury. You’ve long since recovered.”


    ?zar remained silent, his grief-stricken crimson-green eyes aimed at his boots. God, what was happening? Did he really think House Fadénix that pathetic? What about his sister? Taní thought she was important to him, but maybe that had only been a front. A diverting guise.


    “I…had no say in the matter,” ?zar muttered.


    “It was her, wasn’t it?” Innes asked.


    “…It doesn''t matter.”


    “Loath as I am to admit it, she is rather beautiful. I’d be distracted, too, if I were in your stead.” Innes leaned in. “You wouldn’t mind if I…entertained her, would you?”


    ?zar stiffened, his fists trembling at his sides. “Just keep to your word.”


    “So long as you keep to yours. And remember: Do make the incident gruesome. I do so love a good tragedy.”


    ?zar stepped out of the alcove, prompting Taní into hiding. Great. Now he knew two things he had to keep secret.