“Shit no, Tarnis? Seriously?” Juno groaned at the sound of the dungeon architect’s voice.

[Indeed. Surprise, Fledglings, you have been duped. You fell for the old mysterious-bard-appears-with-a-message-in-a-song trick. Oldest in the book. Now, if you want the Whispering Chalice of Lyrshadow, which you apparently do because you took the quest, you must journey into this dungeon and get it for yourself. To do that, we have to finish solving the riddle. Will you survive? Hahaha! Probably not! Will you destroy my dungeon from the inside out this time? Absolutely not. I’ve made some changes. But, young Fledglings, young hopeless Fledglings, you’re in luck. You already have the clue to solving the dungeon. Can you remember the song? Let’s hope for your sake, you can. Ha!]

“I have so many questions,” Zola said, her wand drawn as she stared at the passage ahead. “Starting with how you co-opted a quest.”

[Do you think just because I’m dead that I don’t know the happenings of the Lumina Academy, especially when it comes to the Quest Board. Who do you think designed the Quest Board? Me! Who designed all the dungeons? Me! Who helped design the Spectral Text system? Me, me, me! After you destroyed my last dungeon, I vowed to make sure that I got back at you all. I hope you enjoyed your punishment in the Archives!]

“I like volunteering in the Archives,” Zola told Tarnis. “It’s fun. I’m going to keep doing it for extra credit. I’m learning a lot.”

[Curse you. There is no extra credit there!]

“Curse us? Curse you,” Juno shouted down the stairs. “Curse you to hell, Tarnis. I’ve met a lot of big time fuckers, but you are the biggest of them, and that’s including the Undergasts and Professor Lysander, plus this girl who picked on me in primary school. You know what? I don’t think we’ll do your challenge. Fuck your dungeon.” Juno crossed his arms and turned away. “Let’s go, Piglet, Desolara.”

Oink? Oink!

[Your language is unbecoming of a Fledgling. And don’t you snort at me! You must take the challenge. You must—]

“I don’t think we will,” Alistair said, once he saw the encouraging look Juno was giving him.

[What? But… but I worked hard to put this together and to wrap it into an old song, one that originally had nothing to do with the dormant dungeon in this statue. Do you know how many hours it took to set this up? And then I had to use my channels to find Annie the Bard, and she wasn’t cheap. Not only that, I had already paid her to busk at the Academy until she encountered the three of you when I discovered that you were going to the restaurant. Then, there were the costs for her getting there, and I had to pay the restaurant staff to let her in. Ugh. And now you won’t take the challenge?]

“You seriously went to all that effort?” Juno asked. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

[What reason do I have to lie at this point? Are you coming or not!?]

“How do you have money to begin with?” Alistair asked. “You’re literally dead.”

[You think because I spent my life constructing magical constructs—weird to say it like that, but follow me here—that I didn’t figure out a way to keep myself rich for all of eternity? There are investment opportunities all around you, boys and girls, if you simply take the time to exploit them. But that’s not what this is about. I have, here, a perfect dungeon, one brimming with mystery and the chance for cards, and you aren’t going to go inside? Are you fools?]

“Why would we?” Alistair asked. It’s a trap.”

Ghost: I see what you’re doing. Keep it up. Get some agreements in place.

[Of course, it’s a trap. All dungeons are traps!]

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“We will take your dungeon challenge with certain concessions,” Alistair said. Beside him, Juno nodded greedily. “The first concession is that you provide the lyrics to the song that the bard sang.”

[Her name is Annie the Bard, show some respect. And as for lyrics, ugh, that sort of eliminates the fun here.]

“You must have assumed we would remember the song to unlock the secret passageway,” Zola said. “So providing the lyrics isn’t a stretch considering we would have to remember them to even get to the dungeon.”

[I almost unlocked it after you kicked the statue, but fine, fine. I see your point. The lyrics will be provided. Are you happy now?]

“Second concession,” Juno said.

[What!?]

“If we break or complete your dungeon, you won’t be a whiny little fucker about it and take it to the board of regents, or whatever they’re called. You’ll accept the L. Agreed?”

[The ‘L?’ Speak clearly, Fledgling.]

“The loss. Agree, or do we need to find ourselves a different Whispering Chalice. There has to be another one somewhere, and there are always more quests.”

[There is only one Whispering Chalice and it is in this dungeon. Fine. Agreed. Are we done? Will you enter the dungeon now?]

“One more thing,” Zola said. “The reward. We want double, no, triple the amount. We want nine hundred silver coins to split three ways. In case I need to do the math for you, that’s three hundred a person.”

[Absolutely not. You will not get three concessions from me. If you want the money, you must take back one of the other concessions.]

Alistair, Juno, and Zola huddled up. “What do you think, Alistair?” Juno asked. “Do you got the song down?”

“I might be able to remember the chorus. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“But having the lyrics will help,” Juno added. “That’s a lot of silver coins, though. And we definitely don’t want more punishments on campus, especially because we haven’t done anything wrong.”

Alistair weighed their options for a moment, his head bobbing left and right.

Ghost: Take the money. You’ll remember the song.

Alistair: You think so?

Ghost: I do. I have faith in you, limited as it may be. Just tell the others you need to sit quietly for a moment to remember it. You could also, yes, yes, that could work. You could come here to find it.

Alistair: How would I find the song there?

Ghost: I am somewhere in your mind. Maybe it’s something we would be able to do together.

Alistair: And I’d just sit here in meditation or whatever.

Ghost: Better to lie down. You could tell them you need to nap on it. A quick nap. Come here, and we find the song together and decipher the last part.

Alistair: And you’re certain it’s there?

Ghost: Again, I don’t know, but that’s a lot of coins. There’s also the option of finding Annie the Bard and getting the lyrics from her. Tarnis didn’t say you have to do the challenge now.

Alistair: We’re not going to attack a bard.

Ghost: I didn’t suggest that. I meant pay her off. Coins for secrets, steel for silence.

Alistair: These phrases of yours.

Ghost: I know, and I agree, you should be writing them down.

Alistair turned back to the dungeon. “We will take the money.”

[Over which concession?]

“The first one,” Alistair said. “I’ll figure out the lyrics myself.”

[Done! Good luck, Fledglings. You’re going to need it!]

He turned to others. “I’m going to need to lie down for a second.”

“Why?” Zola asked.

“Because I, um, remember these sorts of things when I’m napping. I know it sounds strange, but just give me like ten minutes. Did you hear that, Tarnis?”

The dungeon architect didn’t respond, but the path remained open.

“Yeah,” Juno said. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this. Let’s get rich.”

****

Alistair laid down on the ground. He breathed slowly, and soon was pulled through to Ghost.

“Now what?” he asked the assassin, who stood across from him intimidating as ever, sword sheathed at his waist.

“Do it. Remember the song. I’ve been wanting to see if you can do this anyway considering this is your mind.”

“But how?”

Ghost motioned to the endless expanse beyond. “All of this is yours. Wield it, Alistair.”

Alistair’s eyes blurred as he stared off at the horizon. He remembered Annie the Bard, and the way she held her instrument. He remembered the taste of the food, his friend’s merriment.

A flash in the distance caused a small quake ripple over the landscape.

She appeared, the bard playing her instrument, her words slurred together.

“You’re getting closer,” Ghost said over the cacophony.

Alistair closed his eyes, and ignored the way the landscape continued to twist and turn, mountains forming and collapsing. The words came suddenly like a cymbal crash:

“And faeries were dancing, on the sun’s golden clouds.

Horses were prancing, lost in the crowds.

They’d been lost for days, lost in yellow mazes, once again.”

“Got it,” Alistair told Ghost as the woman faded.

“Good. That was remarkable. It is something new to consider, but later. First, we deal with the chalice and Tarnis’ dungeon.”

Alistair whispered the lyrics under his lips as he turned back to the floating pool of water. “Thank you,” he told Ghost without turning back to him.

“You were the one that did it, not me.”