Tristan's object had finally broken, but he knew how to make another. He wouldn't venture outside his home until another marble had been crafted, not even to accompany me around the city. 

He thought it was a good thing for us to split from one another for a few hours, and I might have agreed had Hamilton not been in our care. Having to go for my studies with Tarlac meant leaving an unconscious human alone with a demon. 

Tristan grew too comfortable with the human, treating him more like a puppet, if not a plaything, by the day. As I readied myself to go out, I watched Trisal throwing darts at Hamilton from across the living room. He had torn open the boy's shirt and painted red rings across his body, going from face to cock. Tristan said he could heal any injury he inflicted, but playing with Hamilton's life had grown too easy for him. And considering my demon's marble hadn't been finished yet, there was all the more risk. 

At his every toss, I gasped in shock. Luckily, his aim was poor without the aid of magic. Numerous darts nicked at Hamilton's silhouette, but none had pierced flesh enough to draw heavy blood. I would have stayed to assure Tristan wouldn't kill the human, but when my eyes lingered for too long, he told me, "You'll be late. Get going." 

He threw another dart while his eyes were on me rather than his targets, yet somehow managed to hit the boy's body finally. The projectile went into the palm of Hamilton's hand. Tristan pushed me out of the apartment, and when I stepped outside, beginning to shut the door behind myself, I heard my roommate cheering. He had struck a bull's eye. I prayed it wasn't an actual eye.

"So, what did you learn from Hamilton's object?" Tarlac asked. 

All I could do until Hamilton awoke or Tristan inevitably killed him, was focus on constructing my conduit. 

"It has to inflict pain," I said.

"Not necessarily. It has to cause discomfort or pleasure. And that discomfort and pleasure can be inflicted upon yourself or someone else as well," The shop owner explained. 

My legs had grown stronger. It had only taken an hour and a half to reach Tarlac's storefront on my own. By then, I might have collapsed from how cold I was, so I thanked the elders that his class was underground where warmth was in no short supply. The basement of his establishment was grander than the shop above it. 

With Vaulted ceilings and red limestone flooring, indeed, his life must have been there rather than selling relics. 

"It must be symbolic in a way. Your object, your conduit, has to directly represent an aspect of yourself. Be it your fear, love, or desire, it must be true to you and you alone," he went on. 

Around the room were cabinets full of every conceivable material one could want. Workstations meant for pottery, welding, stitching, and more made up aisles across the floor. I understood an essential part of the process was crafting something unique, but that couldn't be all there was to it. Was it? 

"But how will it access my magic? How do any of these things tap into real power?" I asked. 

"Through one of these," Tarlac said and took a stone from his pocket the size of a dime. 

"A rock?"

"Not a rock. A dragon scale."

I laughed. Dragons were among the most elusive breeds of angelic creatures that lived in the Overlands. They were animals intelligent and powerful enough to regard as more than simple beasts. 

"That's impossible," I said, but while I laughed, Tarlac's expression remained the same. 

My eyes wandered away, and suddenly, I noticed more than a few stones littered across tables and workstations. 

"My great, great grandfather killed Titan, The Dragon of Disaster. The beast had decimated half the country and threatened to go further if not stopped. My Grandfather was a hero, but his victory came too late. All that he knew and cared for had already been lost. He had nothing left to live for, so he buried the dragon of Disaster and ceased living shortly thereafter. His and the dragon's remains are kept under my shop in their original resting places. Dragons are massive creatures, as you must know. I'll have more scales than I know what to do with for years to come. And only my students are allowed access," Tarlac said and tossed me a dragon scale. 

"It's a great crime to kill a dragon. They are revered," I said, holding the shred of a corpse.

"You consider dragons angels?"

"Yes. We are many different but the same at our core." 

"Self-righteous then?" 

I threw the scale away. 

"The dragon destroyed my grandfather's world because we humans had grown too impure to save."

"You can't know that."

"It's written in my grandfather's last diary."

"Lies then," I shouted and held my arm to summon wind, but of course, nothing came.

Tarlac snickered and stepped around me.

"I didn't kill the dragon," he said.

"If you're caught with its remains," I started, but he interrupted, "The contract you signed stipulates that my trade secrets remain secret."

I turned around and found the round-bellied man heading up the steps to return to his shop.

"Whatever you build, make sure a scale is in it," he remarked before leaving me to work alone.