Lost To History

Chapter 1

A/N: to those of you reading this that haven't read the third (or second) book of the series, I'll give you a few quick, spoiler-free vocab words that'll help you understand this fic! (This fic is also spoiler-free for the second and third books btw, though it does take place in the setting of the third book I have worked HARD to omit spoilers! :D)

University of Al Faradh: the University that Barclay and his friends are staying at.

Symposium: The reason why Barclay and his friends are staying at the University; basically a year of school and tests

Tourney: basically a huge prank war

Beasts: large, magical animals

Lore: this universe's version of magic

Lore Keepers: people who bond with Beasts, share their magical powers, and keep them as companions (Beasts can be stored in Marks, which are moving tattoos the shape of the Beast, keeping them in stasis)

Guardians/Scholars/Surveyors/Apothecaries: Subsets of Lore Keepers licensed by the Guild. 

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Although most of Barclay's time at the Symposium was taken up by studying, or listening to lectures, or going on field trips, or a dozen other things, he somehow still found time to be bored.

Oftentimes he would find himself sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling, a book spread open to a particular page on the ten different types of Lore cacti or identifying the differences between Agmor toxin and Nagira venom. Root, his huge Lufthund (a gigantic, wolf-like Beast), would either lie beside him, taking up most of the space in the tiny bed in the process, or he would be stuck in his Mark, pacing in a bored sort of way around Barclay's shoulder. 

Root had grown a lot in the past couple of weeks. He'd previously been the size of a huge wolf, but now he'd grown so much bigger that he took up all of the room on their shared bed. Barclay barely had any chances to sleep anymore since there was always a huge black dog sitting where he was supposed to sleep. 

Normally, when he was bored, he'd sit and talk with Runa, the Guardian Keeper he was apprenticed to, but she was out on a 'special mission' directly from the Grand Keeper, who was basically the president, so she couldn't even decline. All this was supposed to be strictly confidential, of course, but Barclay had heard the whole story directly from Runa as she was shoving supplies into a knapsack, cussing out Leopold-- the Grand Keeper-- using words that Barclay hadn't even known existed.

The mission was, supposedly, highly dangerous, but he wasn't so much worried about Runa as he was bored without her. Runa could take care of herself, and as he'd seen many times before, she could face a natural disaster head-on and win.

It didn't matter any which way, though: with nothing else to do, nothing truly useful to do except sit there and complete school, Barclay felt a strange mixture of hopelessness, guilt, and boredom. His dorm room was interesting, at least at first, but it didn't have that much to explore. The feeling tugged at his chest in an unfamiliar, unpleasant way, always managing to wriggle its way into his mind when he had too much time on his hands. 

And these days, Barclay had way too much time on his hands.

On one of these forlorn days, early in the morning on yet another day in which he had nothing to do, he lay on his bed, as he usually did in the morning. The sun shone through the small window, cracks of golden light peeking through the curtain to shine onto the floor. Bleary-eyed, still newly awake, Barclay watched a few dust mites scurry across the ceiling. They look like. . . moving raisins.