I set the book down and let it rest on the table. Closing my eyes did little to relieve the rhythmic pounding; nor did it help ease strange burning around their edges.

Galarion pulsed in distress, his tentacles reaching through my body like a ghostly parasite. The poor little guy couldn't find his prey. For all the meals Galarion enjoyed thanks to the usual unwanted headaches or stress clawing at the insides of my brain, there was no sense of pain for him to devour.

Not this time.

With my eyes closed, I focused on my breathing and let myself float in the water. The gentle smell of the oils used to prepare the bath soothed me, calmed me–but the scent barely registered with the squirming thoughts running through my head.

Two hours. Two hours of sitting inside the bath staring at the same three pages inside the damn notebook. I thought a god's gift would be more. I read it before, learned a little even. Apparently whatever I knew wasn't worth a damn.

The haunted journal decided to show me the real treasure locked between its spine. Now that I intended to try, or whatever the creepy book decided was enough. It made the crude scribblings and runes from before seem childish–like a toddler's first coloring attempt at writing with crayon.

And that information burned. It seared itself into my brain the moment I understood what the random scribbling actually meant. That pain was the current cause for discomfort and while I would have loved for my familiar to slurp up the issue, I couldn't allow it.

"But Master…" Galarion pleaded.

He glided over my arm and moved toward my shoulder but I gently stopped him.

"Not yet, let it settle first," I said.

He slapped at my fingers unhappily but relented. Galarion sank into the waters and let the raging stream pull him away. I cracked an eye open in time to see his skin an angry red and shining brighter than a campfire at night.

Sorry, Galarion.

The information could hurt him, something I wasn't ready to risk. Not yet, at least. From the moment the book opened up and showed me the pages it wanted me to read, I felt the raw hunger emanate from my familiar. It was strange. In a way, he felt equal parts disgust as he did savage desire. One part of his nature recoiled at the runic knowledge.

The other?

I had to reinforce a strict command and hold him at bay. It was one of the few times I felt authority settle over one of my familiars. The very idea disgusted me, balking at the idea, but it had to be done.

When he regained control of himself, he was practically slobbering at my side, begging. I had to squeeze the link and shut it out, removing any of the information bleed from trickling through the connection.

It took me a solid twenty minutes just to digest what I had begun to unravel.

A small hand touched the back of mine and I glanced downward. Áine sent another burst of healing energy into my flesh. My fingers returned to normalcy, losing their excess wrinkles and I gently booped her nose.

"Thank you,"

She nodded and returned to her spot, idly dipping her fingers into the thimble filled with grimble juice. Off in the far side of the bath, Sturmrorex dipped between floating bubbles of water before diving back into the basin. He sped along, creating the fast current that carried Galarion away.

I sighed and peered down at the journal, examining the barely visible chains covering its surface.

Runes. Runic knowledge. I knew them, or I thought I did. The damn book disapproved what I knew as normal, or maybe it didn't.

Between its pages, the first page was barely more than lines of symbols. Each one represented what looked to be an alphabet made up of simple scratches and curved lines that spanned over a hundred letters.

That was the starting knowledge; the intro into taking the first step of learning what I dubbed 'Primark.'

Its name brought a sour taste to my mouth. It was wrong; a bastardization of the truth. Like I was learning from the book, the very nature of the information came with a sense of self. Its identity hated what I nicknamed it, rankling at the shallowness of its meaning. But the information came freely and like the page with over a hundred letters, I knew I couldn't invoke its true name.

Not yet.

Primark runes. I licked my lips and sipped at the lemonade before setting it down. Primark was the language of runes. Its alphabet spanned hundreds of characters and none repeating. Several looked alike, in fact, more than a few almost fooled me into believing they were the same until I pulled the page closer.

Those were the building blocks for weaving a rune. In a way, they looked incomplete compared to the runes I'd see on everyday enchanted items. They were smaller, simpler–and lacked the swirling expanded lines.

I barely managed to parse through a dozen before the knowledge corrupted my thoughts. Each new sigil I tried to mentally scratch created a static fuzz that wouldn't go away.

Eventually, I had to give up and I turned the page.

Where page one showed me the alphabet, page two showed me how the crude scratches were to be combined into concepts. Words and thoughts equated to simple ideas like fire and water.

It displayed only six of these runes: cut, push, pull, heat, heavy, and light.

For light, I got the idea that it was less a combination of the element and more of the concept of lightness in weight.

The combinations of runes used no less than sixteen primark letters. Something like push used a squiggle swirled into a half crescent before ending in a trailing of three dots. Three primark letters to make the one rune and each letter thrummed with its own sense of self that poked at my brain.

My finger traced the smooth marble below them. It took another thirty minutes before things clicked and the information settled in. These runes were a starter set. From what I gathered there could have been thousands or hundreds of thousands of combinations it could use as examples. These six were selected for a reason; one I didn't learn until the third page.

Unlike the first two which showed me lines and knowledge to memorize, the third held instructions. It showed me how a rune was meant to work on its own. How to exist by themselves separate from anything else.

These simplistic runes makeup contained three or more basic thoughts–the letters. The third page used cut as an example. Two diagonal scratches converging over a flattened 'v.'

Again the rune seared itself into my mind but like the nickname, I could taste the wrongness in my mouth. It was as if the very rune itself seemed duller, less potent.

The two diagonals didn't converge into the flattened 'v' by using something called a 'bind,' or connecting sigil. It took the form of two commas touching tips similar to a curvy 'w.'

The more I stared at the page the less it burned until finally, I could feel the information move into the memory banks. Unwanted, but there. The rune's first iteration almost growled in dissonance when I tried to compare the two. At that point, the journal snapped shut on its own and summoned the chains to lock itself tight.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I wasn't expecting to learn a new language during a single bath, but damn. I came in here for a relaxing time, not a study lesson from hell…

"Master," a normally boisterous voice whispered.

Electric blue scales surfaced from beneath the lavender waves. Sturmrorex's horns sparked as tiny droplets dripped down, fizzling in the water.

"Yes, Sturm?" I asked, my eyebrow raised at the strange tone.

"Permission to approach?"

I poked his muzzle. "You don't need to ask,"

He bowed his head and slipped below the surface. Sturmrorex reappeared at my side and circled up my torso until he came to a rest with his head atop my shoulder. He felt strangely warm against my skin with his scales crackling with electricity in slow pulses that started from his horns down to his tail.

"I did not want to disturb you if you were still busy," he said.

I scratched at the center of his horns near the apex of his skull. He purred with his body vibrating the water's surface.

"I'm letting everything settle in for now. Thanks for being considerate though."

"Mmmmng." He leaned into the scratch and slowly shook me. When he exhaled, a misty cloud of cold air blanketed the table. "A wise king needs the space to grow. Has your study born storms ripe for the pickiiiing?!"

Áine's fist landed with a meaty thwack. She floated before him with her arms crossed.

I held in my chuckle and waited as Sturmrorex apologized to the small fairy. He sent a bolt of mana into the thimble and the juice thawed, the flash-frozen surface melting as the cup steamed.

The byplay brought warmth to my chest and the thumping lessened. For a moment, I loosened the reins on the link, just enough to show them how they helped. The two turned and smiled at me, sending their own mixtures of joyful thought-speech in return.

"To answer your question, Sturm. Yes. Well, maybe. Too much information to download at once but I think I've filtered enough out to try something."

He perked up. "Truly? We are finally utilizing the abandoned weapon in your arsenal?!"

I winced. "Ouch. That was uncalled for."

Áine tittered and looked away as I glared.

"Apologies, Master. I've circled around your skill for some time. It confounds me, and a dull claw is of no use." Sturmrorex's scales pulsed faster and grew warmer. "Better another fang to flay the flesh of the fools who throw themselves at your feet!"

"I certainly have no end of them harassing me, don't I?" Sturmrorex puffed his chest and I splashed water over the hothead. "I think you're right. What's the point of having a spear if I'm not going to use it, eh?"

"Exactly!"

I sighed dramatically and raised my hand over the book. The chains retracted on their own.

"Yeah, this thing is definitely alive. I was given your classic book spirit and somewhere down the line some ancient old man or dragon, maybe both are going to rise out of this thing."

"Why would there be a dragon inside a torn piece of paper? Is this the abomination that gods create?"

"No idea. But I'm sure we'll find out… Eventually."

I pulled the journal closer and skipped to the third page. The burning started immediately but I skipped past the first half of the page and focused on the instructions for inscribing runes.

I skimmed through the bulk and gritted my teeth as the ink started to blur together.

Flowers and berries entered my nose and Sturmrorex tightened around my chest, helping cut through the discomfort long enough for me to shut the book and sink into the bench.

I cupped my hand and held it against my chest for Áine to stand on while she probed my body for damage. When she found none, I lowered her onto Sturmrorex's back and pulled the table closer.

Pages of light-blue paper landed atop the marble and I separated a single piece before sending a command to Sturmrmorex. He took control of the air around us and forced it aside, pulling in clean air without scent.

"Galarion," I called. "I'd like your help if you're willing."

Toward the back of the basin, a high-pitched thrum broke the peace. The mist flashed as an explosion of color diffused throughout a cloud of steam.

I raised my hand and intercepted the spinning firework before he crashed into my face. When I flipped my hand around, Galarion used my palm as a trampoline and bounced into my head, sinking his hooks into my skull.

"Ready!" he shouted.

He clawed toward the center and spread himself thin, not bothering to hide his hunger.

"No touching the memories," I commanded.

"Fiiiine. Start now?"

"Yes. I want you to record the process and we'll play through it after I'm done."

"Okay! Start! Start!"

I tapped my skull, jostling the astral squid but he squealed in delight.

Figures, of course you'd enjoy it.

"Alright, the three of you remain quiet while I do this. No thoughts, no sounds. You guys ready?"

"Ready!"

"Ready…"

"Of course, Master!"

I closed my eyes and tuned out the world. First, the sound of running water slipped away then did the crackles of Sturmrorex's electricity. The runes fought to the forefront of my thoughts but I pushed them aside except for one.

Push.

Start with the squiggle then curve wide into the moon. Simple.

I willed my mana and threaded it into the tip of my finger. From my claw, I forced it down even further till only a single prick of energy escaped the tip.

The moment it touched the blue paper, it drank deep, carving the mana into itself with a gentle nudge. Steady… The first wave carved into the paper, then the second followed by the third. The sigils in my mind rebelled, turning from a constant flame to a raging bonfire. They burned and tried to disrupt my thoughts, refusing to deviate from what flowed naturally onto the page.

Come… On!

Something pulsed inside my soul realm and the burning paused. At once, the raging thoughts froze together, forced into stillness by my will.

My claw created the two-sided commas and then shifted into a wide crescent curve.

Aaaaand done!

I pulled up, ready to insert the trailing ellipses but then the thread connected to the page snapped. I blinked through teary eyes as the control over the sigils crumbled and the burning sensation returned.

"What the-"

The paper flashed yellow and my nose crunched as I smashed into the hard stone behind me.

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