Lavisa sighed. “You can’t be serious.”


    Jaster lifted a tile from the floor, revealing a hole deep enough to fit a fully grown man. “Deathly.”


    “You realize what will happen if you go through with this, right?”


    “Yeah, but that’s only if someone finds out.” Jaster turned to Taní and gestured to the hollow. “Now then… Age before beauty.”


    A delightful giggle resonated from Lavisa.


    “What’s so funny?” The Nimmian frowned.


    “Oh, nothing. I was simply unaware you qualified as either.”


    The boy’s face reddened. As clever as that was, Taní hadn’t expected Lavisa to jump to his defense. Not that he was complaining.


    Without a second thought, Taní hopped down the hole. Instead of finding a filthy dwelling, he found an endless network of metallic wires encased in thick glass. Lights raced from one end of the tunnel to the next, coiling in a twisting, telltale pulse of timeless energy. He traced the streaming luminosities. First once, then thrice until he finally caught it: the beating of a heart. And its depth? Its echo. He could sense it within the very of his being.


    Ancient.


    True.


    It endowed him with memories of another life. When the wastelands of northern Déqom had hosted a bountiful expanse of lush fields greener than the coast. Until that infinite darkness had sundered the sky one fateful day, leaving them with gold-veined reminders of what could never be. How ironic then, that his very existence be inextricably linked to that which had sought his destruction.


    When the tunnel pulsed once more, he found Her shielding him from the blast. Not because he was important or some vital key, but because he was all she could reach. Because he just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.


    “Tan?o?”


    Taní blinked. Lavisa was frowning at him. How long had she been standing there?


    “Oh, sorry. Spaced off a little,” Taní admitted.


    “Can you space off somewhere else? I don’t like cramped spaces,” came Jaster’s voice from behind.


    “We can always go back.”


    “And what? Sit around doing nothing all day? You’ve no sense of adventure?”


    Lavisa raised a finger. “I believe his is a rightful fear of school regulations, Sir Fernbank."


    The Nimmian scoffed. “Regulations. Would we have gotten anywhere as a society if we never broke them?”


    “Normally, I’d agree, but because of the labyrinth’s unpredictable nature, these rules have a place for good reason.”


    “Easy… You’re acting like breaking them will hurt us.”


    “You’re right! They’ll just kill us instead,” Lavisa stated dryly.


    Jaster tapped his head. “Not if you know your way around.”


    “You’re a first-year. You’ve yet to be introduced to the antechamber.”


    “My father always said learning experiences are better than studied ones.”


    Lavisa sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps she realized that speaking to a brick wall would get her nowhere. Taní was just glad they stopped. It got a little stale listening to the same back and forth, especially since the clash found its roots on the second floor.


    Now that they were in the catacombs they called a basement, Taní could see why the academy didn’t want them poking around. These parts felt haunted. Not in the ghostly sense, but there was something else here: A presence.


    Heat.


    Thump thump came the ephemeral heart. Its lingering pulse delayed a fraction of a second until it whirred. A whining, sizzling hiss that scraped against his skull until something leaked through: A drawl. The half-forgotten wishes of a breathless voice urging him to reclaim it. What “it” was, he didn’t know.


    The idea embedded itself in a distant corner of his mind, growing quieter until its demands turned into an incomprehensible murmur. Even then, the warm floor held his attention. And…there. Yes, right there. Somewhere down but north. Or whatever way “up” was here.


    That speck… A light more bestial than a roaring flame. It made his blood boil. For hers was a powerful, crimson token. Easily worn, though not easily wielded.


    Lies. Fire.


    “Do you guys feel that?” Taní whispered though he couldn’t feel his lips moving.


    “Feel what?” whispered Jaster in return, his footsteps echoing with a hollow thud.


    Lavisa’s eyes darted around the place, and once she couldn’t locate the source, turned to Taní curiously. “What’re you referring to, Tan?o?”


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Taní’s gaze drifted to the singular point, and in a voice that didn’t belong to him, murmured, “The city I left for her; for us.”


    Once they reached the end of their path, Jaster planted his boot on a small protrusion jutting from the wall and pushed up. Dim light washed over them, but instead of seeing stone-gray walls, they found only the low glow of the sun.


    Taní climbed out of the tunnel, his fingers brushing against a dust-caked floor. The antechamber.


    It was enormous. Tools, stands, tents, and supply depots littered the sun-hewn landscape, but the single detail that caught Taní’s interest was the Gothic architecture.


    A gloomy, ribbed vault wound across the ceiling, creating a sharp juxtaposition to the roughly carved floor. Elaborate arches supported their mighty weight, their frames blessed with the ascending hue of nightfall, and though they appeared aged, their detail was no less immaculate.


    Ominous figures sat perched upon these intricate arches. Beings with eyes redder than blood. Twilight-speckled shrouds cloaked their bodies, rendering a pseudo nightscape scattered with yellow, blue, red, and green spheres. They appeared neither man nor bestial. A hybrid yet neither, and upon their heads was a most curious mark: A hung trident grasping two lights.


    Taní scanned the chamber, though no matter where he looked, they were there. An endless army of cloaked watchers.


    “Creepy…” Jaster muttered as he drew closer to Taní.


    “Right? They look real. A bit too real..."


    Were they things like Tygenna? Other Agents whose names escaped him even now.


    He wasn’t a loremaster. Truth be told, he knew very little about ancient traditions and histories, but if there was one tale that had stuck with him, it was from a traveling merchant he and Danza had helped escort to Histell.


    It dealt with a Cycle. Or rather, a group of ancient guardians that would descend from the Desolator’s twinkling hide every few thousand years. No one knew why, but some claimed it was to inspect them. They had a penchant for imparting gifts to the populace. What they were was lost to time, but maybe, just maybe, the things they had left were still around. Just under a different name.


    “…So only the first floor?” Jaster’s voice broke through Taní’s wall of thoughts.


    “Yes. Though the first three have been sufficiently excavated, the initial floor remains the only level first- and second-years are permitted to enter,” Lavisa explained.


    “So they got rid of all the fun stuff?”


    “It’s educational, Sir Fernbank. It’s not supposed to be fun. As it stands, the field trip’s primary aim is to introduce aspiring Juneac?o to unfamiliar environments.”


    Jaster inclined his head. “Why?”


    “In hopes of adapting, of course. A Juneac?o is bound to encounter scenarios both foreign and familiar to them. While our time in the academy teaches us to familiarize ourselves with the ins and outs of our pre-established order, the labyrinth’s duty is to remind us of the chaos that is unpredictability.”


    “Weird. Dragonfang’s pretty obsessed with the place, but not because of what you said. They just really like shiny things, and what other place has shinier stuff than the labyrinth?”


    Lavisa grinned. “Perhaps a Dragon’s greed can be redeeming.”


    “You make it sound like we only care about gold,” Jaster said.


    “Perhaps, perhaps not, though if it wasn’t for you or your ilk, Corat?o wouldn’t possess its current advancements.”


    Taní glanced at his sheath. He had seen items akin to Brands before in Monasteries. They didn’t appear in the shape of a dagger, nor did they dispel doors, but they did unseal barriers. Cans were another item that came to mind, not to mention the odd, silvery constructs that zipped around the floor cleaning the place. For whatever reason, they always ran whenever he neared. Maybe they were afraid that he would accidentally step on them and dent their perfectly round frame. That or accost them for not cleaning the spill right. Upperclassmen had a bad habit of doing that.


    “Ilk? Now you’re making it sound like we can’t do nice things,” Jaster prodded playfully.


    “A hero is rarely so noble, Sir Fernbank,” Lavisa stated.


    “Don’t people do nice things for each other all the time?”


    “You aren’t most people, Sir Fernbank.”


    “Doesn’t mean I can’t help.”


    Lavisa folded her arms, eyes drawn in wry amusement. “Permit me to ask, but what do you hope to gain from this?”


    “Your highness! I am shocked and appalled that you think I’d want something out of the flustered Fadénix treasurer. All I want is to unite those uncomfortably close siblings.”


    “Alright then, what’s their last name?”


    Jaster blinked, the question seemingly taking him for a loop. “I’m sorry…what?”


    “Their last names.” She waved. “If you’re so committed to their plight, you should know them by now.”


    Jaster laughed. “Oh, yeah! Of course! It’s uh…think it starts with a d. D’Histe…dena…Stadé?”


    “Theirs isn’t toponymic.”


    “Pfft, I knew that. I was just testing you."


    Taní shot the Nimmian a disapproving look. “Please don’t try robbing my House again, Jaster.”


    “Again?” Lavisa asked. “When was the first time?”


    “Details, details—what good have they ever done us?” Jaster said nonchalantly. When neither pressed, he started down the jagged entrance. “C’mon, ?zar’s not gonna find himself.”


    Taní paused as a sudden thought came to him. The third-year, despite all his flaws, was a patient, observant, and rather conflict-avoidant guy. Someone like him never wound up lost. No, they prepped for days, maybe even weeks before ever jumping into action. Not because they lacked the strength, but because they wanted to guarantee success. Glory worth bragging about. And he’d left without telling them anything.


    Why?


    When he wasn’t speaking to council members, he was with Canela, which was almost all the time. If anyone knew where he was, it was her.


    For him to go an entire week without them noticing…


    That didn’t bode well.


    Before any of them could step foot into the labyrinth, Taní yelled, “Wait! Shouldn’t we bring a weapon or something? Beasts can be lurking, right? Wouldn’t it be smart to have something that could…y’know, stab them?”


    Jaster waved. “Nah, we’ll be fine. A Dragonfang diver told me ?zar was somewhere on the second floor. It’s mostly safe there.”


    “Mostly?”


    “C’mon, you know better than to give me that look. We’ll be fine. I haven’t lied to you yet, have I?”


    Realizing he wouldn’t get anywhere by arguing, Taní joined Jaster. A part of him was curious about what the labyrinth had in store. It was the hot topic most first-years buzzed about. Mainly because no one told them anything about it. The other years wanted to “keep it a surprise.”


    Taní stepped through the threshold and winced as an otherworldly light washed over the land. He shielded his eyes from the faux blue glow plastered upon the pocketed ceiling, but the moment his vision recovered, he gasped.


    If the antechamber was relative to the cafeteria, then the labyrinth’s first floor was akin to a small city. It was titanic. A subterranean ruin that clawed at the shadowy corners of the infinite cavern.


    A steep set of stairs descended into the city, though beside it sat several platforms sitting on a slide. They appeared large enough to fit large groups of students. Taní struggled to make out the finer details of the labyrinth, but he could tell that it was old and unnatural. It didn’t possess the tented structure of sky castle architecture; the shape was too…elongated. Almost stringy. Like someone had stretched the nearly glowing orange buildings to their winding limits.


    Eyes refusing to lift from the scene, Taní asked, “Lavisa, does this place have a name?”


    “I’m glad you asked. You see, the labyrinth’s true name is The Lair of the Firestorm Drake. Named in honor of your House’s founder, Fadina Fadénix,” Lavisa answered.


    “Who gave it that name?”


    “Isn’t it obvious? It was D’Arcy Dragonfang. Her greatest friend.”