Taní scrambled around the corner, blood pounding in his ears. His starved lungs heaved for breath, raking in gasp after gasp as he thundered down the hall. Tempted though he was to swallow a full draft being breathless was preferable to being caught breathless.


    The too tall hueless hall thinned into white blurs, occasionally broken by the flickering brilliance of a portrait here, and the zipping silver of a demon there. No recessed alcoves though.


    The relentless crash of boots rolled in a like hailstorm from behind, muffling the pleasant plucking of a renuw emanating from the ceiling. That’s when he glimpsed it. A crevice.


    Taní squeezed into the nook barely large enough to hold a child, and when his shoulder brushed against the dark corner, the shadows of five ominous wyrms crossed.


    “Where’s that bloody bird!”


    “Came in and around here!”


    “Oh, right. Halls bloody bland as is, yet he’s nowhere?”


    “Could’ve sworn I saw him turn…”


    Taní’s lungs screamed for relief as he held what meager breath remained. The first voice—a short, fair-skinned girl with a burr—stopped before the entrance of the nook. Her livid expression set on the main hall.


    “Thought and saw, did you? Next time try nabbing the fool when he’s in the Den.”


    A tanned boy with a weak chin joined her, his lips twisted into a frown. “Nab him for reading? Sure. You want me to beat him when he breathes while I’m at it?”


    “Beat him? No. Thrash him till he’s broken? Can’t say that for true. I’d rather our loremaster not interrogated either way.”


    “In my defense, he wore our cape rather well.”


    The girl’s lips curled into a snarl. “It was a piece of parchment adhered to his cape! Sketched horribly, might I add.”


    A third Dragonfang girl with a well-coiffed hairstyle walked beside them, an excessive, unperturbed primness to her stride. Some daughter of a powerful lord or lady, no doubt. “I don’t know. That dragon drawing was pretty good.”


    The first girl—the leader—stared at her incredulously. “Are you mad? The thing looked like an obese hippo pushing one out than a twin-headed dragon!”


    “So…what do you want us to do?”


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


    “Find him, idiots! FIND HIM.”


    The Dragonfang heiress brought a delicate finger to her chin. After tapping it for several measured seconds, she shook her head. “You’re acting like he stole something.”


    “Then let me be transparent.” The leader walked between them, a thin, plastic smile stretching from ear to ear. In a voice so painfully sweet it almost hurt, she said, “House lore is produced for pledged students. Not outside, not adjacent. These secrets have circulated for hundreds of years. Things no one except us and the founders know. And now a bloody fowl has them bumping around in his head. And do you know why?”


    The boy raised a finger. “Is it because—”


    “It’s because you blundering, incompetent wyrms do nothing but idle when you’re supposed to guard the supply! How difficult can your job be when all you do is sit in a corner all day?”


    “Sitting is rather tiresome,” said the heiress nonchalantly. She immediately stiffened as the leader glared at her. “I-I mean, yes. Apologies. We didn’t mean to grow lax.”


    “Then find him! Now.”


    The two underlings bolted down the main hall, with the leader following shortly after, shaking her head the entire time. Their footsteps faded, restoring the renuw’s unremitting tune. Its verve resonated in Taní’s makeshift cell, a veritable pounding guard.


    Relief instantly washed over him. Maybe it was—in fact—okay to breathe. So, he bent forward and gasped. Hand on the wall as he drank gulp after gulp of sweet air.


    “Bloody fast for a bunch of layabouts…”


    Reaching into his pocket, his fingers brushed against the crumpled lump of parchment. Perfect. The loremaster—a rather dodgy fourth-year Dragonfang who somehow still fit in his pants—had promised him secrets. All for the small price of one hundred SG. A rather egregious rate, but one step closer to the truth was better than nothing.


    Taní sidled out of the nook, wincing as the otherworldly light of Hierrsé greeted him. Inspecting his uniform for tears and finding none, he started for the nearest Transmitter. A nap didn’t sound horrible right about now. Sure, he’d have to skip the rest of his classes, but sacrifices had to be made.


    Unfurling the crumpled lump of parchment, Taní prepared himself for the juicy, forbidden knowledge tucked away in the dusty shelves of the Dragonfang vault. Relics, founders, or maybe a lost treasure? Good blood, it could be anything!


    And there, upon the abused parchment, read one word:


    “Stupid.”


    Taní’s smug smile twitched into a broken frown as he slowly read the word over. He turned the page, found nothing, discriminated the paper-thin edges as if the clue would somehow be scrawled upon them, and read the front all over again. One hundred SG for this?


    He took the edge of the parchment into his other hand, pulled once, stopped before it could tear, and unleashed a growl he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. Like destroying it will change anything. So stupid…


    Nearly dying, and all for a piece of paper that just called him stupid? No, maybe he deserved it. After all, why would a Dragonfang even entertain a Fadenician? He probably just wanted free SG out of him, and the worst part? Taní believed him. Paying his full price without complaint.


    Uncertain of who to blame, he cast it on everyone, including himself. At least they’d all share some fault.


    Back to the hunt for clues he went. Her relic, if it existed to any capacity, had to be known about by someone at the very least. If not a wyrm, then a teacher, or a Vlasalisk, or maybe…