The bone staircase ended in dragon-light—furnace-orange, thick enough to invoice your retinas. Dylan stepped off the last riser and the air locked, like a vault that had just learned his credit score.
Ahead stretched the East Tower Roost: a volcanic balcony big enough to park a fleet of wyrms. Lava rivers circled below, molten moats that bubbled with late fees. Perches jutted from the rock, each the size of a townhouse. On the largest sat Valerian—asset #0001—wings folded, scales clicking like abacuses recounting student debt.
A stone desk waited for every student. Slate slab, silver hammer, one blank dragon scale—opal, warm, still pulsing like a heartbeat on layaway.
The parchment-TA reassembled from wind-blown filings, face a blank page waiting for red ink. "Groups of four. One notebook. Ink optional—blood has archival value."
Dylan snorted. "I've got lightning and regret. That archival enough?"
The TA stamped his name. Clank. Debt sealed.
Valerian opened one eye—gold coin rolling into a slot. His voice arrived inside their skulls, bypassing ears entirely.
"Observe. Record. Do not bore me. Boredom is tax-deductible—from your lifespan."
Lava geysers erupted in applause.
---
Observation prompts crawled across each slab, carved by invisible claws:
1. Document dominance display.
2. Calculate cost of disobedience (in heartbeats).
3. Predict next foreclosure breath.
Dylan's group formed fast—credit scores over charisma.
- Argent #017 – mercury armor, left eye glassed from scanner-tax.
- Noble-boy #022 – House bankrupt, still owns one true name.
- Clockwork-nun #031 – ticking louder than the lava.
They huddled, backs to a two-hundred-meter drop, lava clock ticking visible in cooling rock.
Noble-boy whispered, "I'll trade my true name for an updraft."
Clockwork-nun: "I'll fire a grappling spring, but I need a conductive tether."
Argent: "Mercury beam, but I need an anchor."
Dylan: "I'll ride the tether, recoil-to-speed. Let's arbitrage physics."
Plan in thirty seconds:
1. True name spoken—lava answers, thermal updraft leases airspace.
2. Spring fired—clang, embeds far ledge.
3. Mercury poured—solidifies into a shining rail.
4. Lightning Fork channeled—recoil slings Dylan across river at bullet speed.
5. Scale snatched—opal, warm, still beating like a debtor's pulse.
They moved on the count of three.
Noble-boy stepped to the edge, voice shaking but steady enough to sign a contract. He spoke his true name into the heat. Lava listened. A thermal updraft rose—temporary lease on airspace, collateral unknown.
Clockwork-nun detached her left forearm. Springs whirred. She fired the grappling spring—clang—it arced, embedded in the far ledge with a spark.
Argent poured mercury along the tether. It cooled mid-air, solidifying into a gleaming rail that caught the dragon-light and threw it back like a middle finger.
Dylan gripped the Lightning Fork like a zip-line handle. One charge left. He channeled the recoil, felt it bite his bones, then slammed the tines into the rail.
CRACK – recoil hurled him forward at bullet speed, boots skimming the mercury rail, lava cooling beneath him inch by inch. Three heartbeats later he landed on the far ledge, knees bent, scale within reach.
He snatched it—opal, warm, still pulsing like a heartbeat on layaway. Ink rose on the surface, blank contract waiting for student clause.
Behind him the lava solidified, sealing the river into a bridge of black glass. His group exhaled in unison.
> [Homework submitted: dragon scale retrieved]
[Grade: provisional A – pending dragon acceptance]
Valerian inclined one eyelid—a banker's nod to profitable risk.
---
Bridge walk back – glass cracking underfoot like old invoices. Noble-boy collapsed, true name spent, House officially foreclosed. Clockwork-nun cradled her empty arm socket, ticking louder than before. Argent reabsorbed the mercury, eye still glassed but smirk intact.
Parchment-TA collected the scale, filed it into a floating cabinet labeled "Mid-Term Assets – Interest Accruing."
Valerian's voice echoed once more, final entry in the day's ledger:
"Class dismissed. Interest compiles at dusk."
Doors opened—normal wood this time—leading back to the bone staircase, back to the corridor, back to the ever-ticking clocks.
Dylan descended, scale in inventory, new debt inked on his eyelids, heart counting heartbeats like coins slipping through a hole no pocket can mend.
Interest had compiled another line.
The dragon had noticed him.
The tutorial was over.
Next invoice due at dusk.