Page 10 of Alchemy of Secrets

It’s the morning. You wake up, bleary-eyed and hangover-lethargic, although you don’t recall drinking. You rub your eyes as the walls stop spinning.

Now you remember, you had class last night, or you think you had class. Trying to play it all back is like attempting to hold on to a vanishing dream.

You can hear the Professor’s raspy voice, but you can’t remember anything she said. And you don’t remember leaving.

You text a friend.

Hey! Were you in class last night?

Dots appear as your friend begins to type. They stop. Then they start again.

The dots follow this pattern several times until, finally, three words appear:

I don’t remember

You open your notebook, the one you take to class every week. There are scribbled notes from the week before. But after that there’s… nothing.

You’re about to close the book when you see it. It looks like erased pencil marks—more of an impression than actual writing, but you make out a string of lines that give you the impression of a story you tried to erase.

THE BANK.

Impenetrable.

Most secure vaults in the world.

No one has ever stolen from it. No one ever dares break into it.

By appointment only.