Cammi was a dragon, but not the sort you heard about in scary bedtime stories. He was small for a dragon, with smooth green scales that shone like a pencil case after it had been polished. His horns curved like two careful commas, and his wings were still a little too big for his body, as if they had been borrowed from an older cousin.
Cammi went to school.
Not a cave-school with lava chalk, not a tower-school in the clouds—just a regular school with hallways that smelled like floor wax and crayons. Still, for Cammi, everything felt a bit magical. The water fountain made a tiny song when you pressed the button. The lunch trays clattered like cymbals. Even the bell at the end of recess sounded like a brave little trumpet.
Cammi tried very hard to be a good student. He was curious and imaginative, and he wrote stories in the margins of his math worksheets—stories about brave erasers and adventurous paperclips. But he was also shy about one thing.
His fire.
Most dragons could blow fire like a trumpet blast. Cammi’s fire was… complicated. Sometimes it came out as warm sparkles, like birthday candle glitter. Sometimes it came out as a puff of smoke shaped suspiciously like a question mark. Once, in kindergarten, he sneezed and accidentally toasted his own spelling list.
So Cammi did what any careful dragon would do: he practiced quietly, and only when he was sure nobody was watching.
That Monday, he tucked his tail neatly into his chair and listened as Ms. Alder, the teacher, wrote the day’s big announcement on the board.
SCHOOL LEGEND DAY!
“Class,” Ms. Alder said, tapping the chalk twice, “today we begin our special project. Somewhere in this school is a hidden message left long ago. It’s part of an old story—an old riddle—about our building. Your job is to decode it. When you do, you’ll discover what the message protects.”
A buzz of excitement rolled through the room.
“Like a treasure?” whispered Junie, who collected shiny buttons.
“Like a secret tunnel?” asked Milo, who always wanted a secret tunnel.
Cammi’s eyes widened. A hidden message in the school? That sounded like the kind of mystery that could fit perfectly in the margin of a math page.
Ms. Alder smiled as if she’d been waiting for those questions. “Maybe. But remember—legends can be tricky. Sometimes, they come with a Guardian.”
At the word Guardian, the lights flickered once, as if the ceiling had blinked.
Cammi swallowed.
After class, while everyone crowded around the bulletin board for teams, Cammi drifted to the quiet end of the hallway near the old trophy case. The trophies inside were so old their gold paint had faded to the color of toast.
That was when he noticed something odd.
A faint, chilly swirl moved across the glass, like a finger tracing invisible letters. The air smelled like rain on stone.
Cammi leaned closer. “Hello?” he whispered.
A pale shape lifted from the shadow behind the trophies. It wasn’t scary the way you might imagine. It looked more like a floating sheet of moonlight with curious eyes.
“Boo,” said the shape, politely.
Cammi jumped anyway—just a little.
The shape tilted its head. “Sorry. Habit. I’m Ghost.”
“Your name is… Ghost?” Cammi asked.
Ghost nodded. “It’s efficient. Also, I forgot my other one.”
Cammi blinked. He had never met a ghost before, unless you counted the costume in the lost-and-found bin that always looked like it was sighing.
“You live here?” Cammi asked.
Ghost floated in a small circle, leaving a faint trail like chalk dust in the air. “I… stay here. I like hallways. They remember footsteps. And secrets.” Ghost leaned closer, eyes bright. “You’re the dragon kid. Cammi.”
Cammi’s cheeks warmed under his scales. “Um. Yes.”
Ghost drifted toward the trophy case and pointed at the bottom corner. “You want the hidden message, don’t you?”
Cammi glanced around. The hallway was empty, except for a poster that said BE KIND TO YOUR BRAIN.
“I do,” Cammi admitted.
Ghost lowered its voice even though ghosts didn’t really have to. “Then you’ll need help. The message is protected by the Ancient Guardian.”
The words felt heavier than Ms. Alder’s chalk.
“Who is that?” Cammi asked.
Ghost’s glow dimmed. “Old. Serious. Likes rules. Likes silence. Hates sticky fingers. It wakes up if you get too close to the school’s oldest places.”
Cammi stared at the trophy case, suddenly imagining it creaking open like a mouth.
Ghost brightened again, as if remembering something fun. “But I know paths. I slip through doors. I hear the school humming at night. If you want, we can decode the message together.”
Cammi hesitated. He was shy, but he wasn’t helpless. He had wings and claws and a brain full of stories. Also, he really wanted that mystery.
“Okay,” Cammi said. “Together.”
Ghost spun happily. “Great. Step one: find the first clue. It’s not in the obvious places. The Guardian checks those.”
Cammi thought of the library, the office, the principal’s desk. Very obvious. Very Guardian-ish.
He looked down at his own backpack, stuffed with notebooks.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “it’s in the not-obvious places. Like… under things that get moved a lot.”
Ghost nodded approvingly. “Like the gym mats.”
So, after lunch, Cammi and Ghost met near the gym. Cammi pretended he was tying his shoe while Ghost slipped under the door. A moment later, the door clicked—unlocked from the inside by absolutely no one.
Cammi stepped in, heart thumping.
The gym was empty except for a row of stacked blue mats. Dust motes danced in a shaft of sunlight like tiny astronauts.
Cammi tiptoed to the mats. He lifted the top one carefully.
Nothing.
He lifted the next.
A cold breeze swirled past his nose. Ghost whispered, “Do you feel that? Like the air is paying attention?”
Cammi did feel it. The gym seemed to hold its breath.
He lifted another mat and found, taped to the floor, a small piece of paper protected by a clear covering.
On it were symbols, not words—little drawings. A bell. A stair. A star. A teacup.
Cammi’s tail gave an excited twitch. “A code!”
Ghost floated over the paper. “That’s the first piece. The Guardian won’t like it being disturbed. So—copy it.”
Cammi pulled out his notebook and carefully sketched the symbols.
The moment his pencil finished the teacup, the air snapped colder.
From the far corner of the gym, a low sound rumbled, like a giant clearing its throat.
Ghost stiffened. “That’s… it.”
Cammi’s scales prickled. “The Ancient Guardian?”
The shadows near the storage closet gathered, thickening into the shape of something tall and very old. It wasn’t a person, not exactly. It looked like a statue made of dark wood and stone, with cracks that glimmered faintly as if they held trapped starlight. Its eyes were two dull coins that slowly warmed into a watchful glow.
A voice like creaking doors spoke from it. “WHO COPIES THE SCHOOL’S SLEEPING SIGNS?”
Cammi’s throat went dry. Ghost hovered beside him, trying to look brave, which was funny because Ghost was see-through.
“I’m… Cammi,” Cammi said, forcing the words out. “We’re doing the Legend Day project.”
The Guardian leaned forward. The gym floor seemed to vibrate, but nothing actually broke. It was more like the building was warning them.
“PROJECTS COME AND GO,” it said. “RULES REMAIN.”
Ghost whispered, “It’s grumpy.”
Cammi swallowed again and tried to remember how Ms. Alder spoke when someone was upset. Calm. Clear. Kind.
“We aren’t trying to steal,” Cammi said. “We’re trying to understand.”
The Guardian’s coin-eyes narrowed. “UNDERSTANDING WITHOUT RESPECT IS NO UNDERSTANDING.”
Cammi nodded quickly. “Then… we’ll respect it. We’ll put the mat back exactly. And we won’t touch the paper.”
He slid the mats into place with careful claws, lining the corners up so neatly they looked like a picture in a catalog.
The Guardian watched, silent.
When Cammi stepped away, the cold eased slightly.
Ghost let out a breathy, ghosty sigh. “Nice. You used the Respect Voice.”
Cammi gave a tiny smile. “My fire isn’t the only thing I practice.”
They hurried out of the gym. In the hallway, Cammi’s heart slowed to a more normal drumbeat.
Now they had to decode.
They sat at a table in the library during silent reading time. Ghost perched upside down beneath the table, because ghosts didn’t care about gravity and liked doing things differently.
Cammi stared at the symbols: bell, stair, star, teacup.
“Bell could mean… the school bell,” Cammi murmured. “Or music room.”
“Stair is stair,” Ghost said. “Star might be… ceiling? Science room? Teacup could mean cafeteria.”
Cammi’s eyes flicked to the old trophy case again, then to a map of the school on the library wall.
“What if it’s directions?” Cammi suggested. “Bell—go to the bell. Stair—use the stairs. Star—look for a star. Teacup—near something like tea.”
Ghost floated higher. “There’s a little star sticker on the landing of the old stairwell. I’ve seen it at night. It glows faintly.”
Cammi’s stomach fluttered. “The old stairwell is… one of the oldest places.”
Ghost nodded. “Guardian place.”
Cammi tapped his pencil against his notebook. He wanted to be brave, but brave didn’t mean foolish. He needed a plan.
“Okay,” Cammi said. “We go after school, when it’s quieter. We bring something respectful. Like… a cleaning cloth. If the Guardian likes rules and hates sticky fingers, maybe it likes when people take care of the school.”
Ghost’s eyes widened. “A peace offering. I like it.”
After the last bell rang, the hallways emptied. Cammi told his mom he’d be at homework club, which wasn’t exactly a lie—this was homework, just the legendary kind.
He met Ghost by the trophy case. Cammi carried a small cloth and a tiny bottle of glass cleaner he’d borrowed from the janitor’s cart with permission earlier. The janitor had shrugged and said, “If it shines, it’s fine.”
They approached the old stairwell. Its door had a sign: STAFF ONLY.
Ghost slipped through the crack easily and unlatched it from inside. “Rules are more like suggestions when you don’t have hands,” Ghost whispered.
Cammi pushed the door open.
The stairwell smelled like old books and pencil shavings. The steps were stone, worn in the middle by years and years of shoes.
Halfway up the first flight, Cammi saw it: a little star sticker on the wall. It was faded, but it did seem to glow, as if it remembered being bright.
Cammi held his breath and reached toward it—then stopped.
He didn’t touch.
Instead, he used the cloth to gently wipe the dusty railing, one careful stroke at a time.
Ghost hovered near the star sticker, watching.
A low rumble came from above. The air cooled.
The Ancient Guardian appeared on the landing, larger in this narrow space. Its cracks glimmered more clearly here, like tiny rivers of trapped light.
“YOU RETURN,” it said.
Cammi nodded, keeping his cloth visible. “We came to take care of the stairwell. It’s part of the school. And… we want to follow the legend the right way.”
The Guardian’s eyes shifted to the cloth, then to the clean strip of railing.
“CLEANING IS A KIND OF RESPECT,” it said, grudgingly.
Ghost whispered, “It’s almost a compliment.”
Cammi dared to speak again. “The code brought us here. We saw the star. We think it points to another clue.”
The Guardian’s voice scraped like a chalkboard, but not in a mean way—more like it was unused to talking kindly. “THE STAR IS A MARK. NOT TO BE PEELed. NOT TO BE POCKETED.”
“We won’t,” Cammi promised. “Could we… look near it?”
The Guardian was silent for a long moment. Cammi could hear his own heart, and the faint ticking of the building.
Finally, the Guardian moved one step aside. “LOOK. WITH YOUR EYES.”
Cammi leaned closer to the star sticker. Around its edges, faint letters were etched into the wall, so light they could be missed. He squinted.
They weren’t normal letters. They were tiny shapes again: a book, a window, a spiral, and a bell.
Ghost drifted close. “More code!”
Cammi copied the new symbols into his notebook without touching the wall.
The Guardian watched him carefully. “YOU LEARN,” it said.
Cammi paused. “Yes. And… thank you.”
The Guardian’s coin-eyes flickered, as if it didn’t know what to do with thanks.
Cammi and Ghost backed down the stairs, careful and quiet.
In the hallway, Ghost let out a little whoop that sounded like a page turning quickly. “We didn’t get chased! That’s a win.”
Cammi smiled. “We’re not trying to beat the Guardian. We’re trying to work with it.”
Ghost tilted its head. “You’re nicer than most kids.”
Cammi thought about that. He wasn’t always nice. Sometimes he got cranky when his wings knocked over pencil cups. Sometimes he wanted to hide when people stared. But he was trying.
They went to the library to decode the second set: book, window, spiral, bell.
“The book has to mean library,” Cammi said.
Ghost pointed at a tall window at the back, where the late afternoon sun made bright squares on the floor. “Window could mean… that one. Spiral could be… the spiral staircase in the corner leading to the attic storage.”
Cammi’s eyes widened. “There’s an attic?”
Ghost nodded proudly. “I told you. Hallways remember secrets.”
They crossed to the spiral staircase. A rope blocked it off with another sign: DO NOT ENTER.
Cammi frowned. “Rules.”
Ghost made a face. “The Guardian loves those.”
Cammi looked around and spotted Ms. Alder in the reading nook, stacking books.
Cammi walked over, clutching his notebook. “Ms. Alder?”
She looked up. “Cammi. Still at homework club?”
Cammi took a breath. “We found a clue for the Legend Day message. It seems to point to the attic stairs. But there’s a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign. Is there a safe way to look?”
Ms. Alder studied his face, then his notebook. Her expression softened. “You came to ask instead of sneaking. That’s important.”
She walked with him to the rope. “The attic is usually off-limits because it’s dusty. But for the project, I can supervise.”
Ghost hovered behind Cammi, silent and smug.
Ms. Alder unlocked the rope latch and handed Cammi a small flashlight. “We’ll go up carefully. If you see anything old, you do not touch it without asking. Understood?”
“Understood,” Cammi said.
The spiral staircase creaked as they climbed. The air grew warmer, then cooler, as if the building couldn’t decide what season it was.
In the attic storage, boxes were stacked like sleepy brown towers. Old posters leaned against beams. A forgotten globe sat in a corner, dusty as a sugar donut.
Ms. Alder shone her light around. “The legend says the message was left by the school’s first librarian,” she whispered. “They wanted to protect something precious from being lost.”
Ghost drifted through a box and came out the other side with a ribbon stuck to its glow. “Oops. Sorry.”
Cammi bit his lip to keep from laughing.
He followed the code: book, window. There was a small round window in the attic, cloudy with age. Under it sat a wooden chest, plain and scratched.
Cammi’s heart beat faster. “That could be it.”
Ms. Alder knelt beside the chest. “It’s been here a long time.” She pointed to a metal latch shaped like a bell.
“A bell,” Cammi whispered, finishing the code.
He looked around, half expecting the Ancient Guardian to burst through the ceiling.
Instead, the air grew still. Not angry—watchful.
Cammi placed his cloth on the lid and gently wiped away dust. Beneath the dust, faint carved letters appeared, this time actual words.
TO OPEN, SPEAK THE SCHOOL’S FIRST PROMISE.
Cammi frowned. “What’s the first promise?”
Ms. Alder looked thoughtful. “Our school motto. It used to be different, long ago.”
Ghost floated closer to Cammi’s ear. “I’ve heard whispers at night. In the hallway near the main bell. The school hums it sometimes.”
Cammi’s eyes widened. “The bell!”
“Exactly,” Ghost whispered.
Ms. Alder stood. “The main bell in the front hall is original. If any place holds the old motto, it would.” She checked her watch. “We have time before your ride. Let’s go.”
They climbed down and hurried through quiet corridors to the front hall. The main bell hung in a wooden frame, polished by many years of hands. A plaque underneath had been replaced, but the wood around it held faint outlines where something older had been.
Cammi stood in front of the bell, feeling silly and brave at the same time.
Ghost hovered by his shoulder. “Listen,” Ghost whispered.
Cammi did.
At first, he heard only the building: distant pipes, settling walls, the hum of lights. Then, beneath it all, a rhythm like a soft chant.
Care for each other.
Care for this place.
Keep wonder safe.
Cammi’s throat tightened. He looked at Ms. Alder. “I think… I heard it.”
Ms. Alder’s eyes widened. “That sounds like an old motto, yes. Go on.”
Cammi repeated it carefully, each line clear as a bell strike.
“Care for each other. Care for this place. Keep wonder safe.”
The air shivered.
From the shadowed corner of the hall, the Ancient Guardian emerged, bigger than ever under the high ceiling. Students weren’t here to see it; only Cammi, Ghost, and Ms. Alder stood in the quiet.
The Guardian’s eyes fixed on Cammi. “YOU SPEAK THE PROMISE,” it said.
Cammi tried not to tremble. “We’re not trying to take what’s protected. We want to find it so it won’t be forgotten.”
The Guardian approached the bell, then bowed its heavy head, just slightly, toward it.
“THE PROMISE IS TRUE,” it said. “BUT THE LAST TEST REMAINS.”
Cammi’s stomach dipped. “Test?”
The Guardian turned its gaze to Cammi’s chest, where a small warmth lived—his uncertain fire.
“WONDER IS NOT ONLY HIDDEN IN BOXES,” the Guardian rumbled. “IT IS CARRIED. SOMETIMES IT MUST BE LIT.”
Ghost whispered, “Uh-oh.”
Ms. Alder took a step forward, but the Guardian lifted one arm, stopping her gently without touching.
“THE DRAGON CHILD MUST LIGHT THE WAY,” it said.
Cammi’s mouth went dry again. He knew what that meant. Fire.
“I… I can’t always control it,” Cammi admitted. “It might be too much. Or too weird.”
Ghost drifted in front of him, eyes kind. “Weird is okay,” Ghost said softly. “I’m literally a floating glow-blanket.”
Ms. Alder crouched to Cammi’s height. “Cammi, you don’t have to make a huge flame,” she said. “Just enough to show you can use your gift carefully. We’ll do it safely.”
The Guardian pointed toward the corridor leading back to the attic route. Along the floor, faint symbols appeared like dew turning into letters—an invisible trail revealing itself.
“FOLLOW,” the Guardian said. “LIGHT ONLY WHAT YOU NEED.”
Cammi nodded, even though his knees felt wobbly. He held the flashlight, but the Guardian’s words weren’t about that kind of light.
They walked toward the library, then to the spiral stairs again. The symbols on the floor guided them, glowing faintly like tiny stars.
In the attic, the wooden chest waited under the round window.
The Guardian stood near the doorway, not entering fully, as if it belonged more to the school itself than to any one room.
Cammi approached the chest. The latch-bell gleamed.
“Light the way,” Ghost whispered.
Cammi took a deep breath. He remembered how his fire sometimes came out wrong. He remembered the toasted spelling list. He remembered hiding.
Then he remembered something else: cleaning the railing. Copying without grabbing. Asking Ms. Alder. Doing it the right way.
Carefully.
Cammi cupped his claws in front of his snout, like he was holding a tiny secret.
He breathed out slowly.
At first, nothing.
Then a small warmth bloomed between his claws—not a roaring flame, but a gentle glow, like an ember that had decided to be friendly. The light was greenish-gold, speckled with tiny sparks that drifted upward like fireflies.
Ghost gasped. “It’s pretty!”
Ms. Alder smiled so wide it made her cheeks round. “Cammi… that’s beautiful.”
Cammi felt the ember respond to their calm voices. It steadied. It didn’t rush.
He lowered the glow toward the latch-bell.
The metal warmed, and the carved words on the chest brightened, line by line, until the whole lid shimmered.
A click.
The latch opened by itself.
Cammi lifted the lid slowly.
Inside was not a pile of gold coins or a crown or a dusty old sock.
Inside was a neatly wrapped bundle of objects that made Cammi’s eyes sparkle.
There was a small velvet pouch that clinked. There was a silver badge shaped like a star with the words JUNIOR GUARDIAN etched on it. There was a set of colored pencils, brand new, arranged like a rainbow. And there was a folded map of the school with secret passages marked in tiny, careful ink.
Cammi stared. “A treasure,” he whispered, almost afraid the word would break it.
Ghost floated higher, delighted. “Pencils! Map! Shiny pouch! That is absolutely treasure.”
Ms. Alder lifted the pouch and opened it. Inside were old, polished tokens—like special coins—with the school’s first motto stamped on one side.
“Legend tokens,” she murmured. “I’ve only seen pictures.”
The Ancient Guardian’s voice filled the attic, calmer now. “THESE WERE LEFT FOR THOSE WHO KEEP THE PROMISE.”
Cammi looked at the badge. “Junior Guardian?”
The Guardian’s coin-eyes softened, if coin-eyes could soften. “A TITLE,” it said. “A TASK. A TRUST.”
Cammi swallowed, then nodded. “I’ll take care of wonder,” he said quietly. “And the school. And… I’ll try not to toast any homework.”
Ghost snorted. “No promises on the homework part.”
Cammi laughed, and the ember between his claws fluttered but didn’t explode. It stayed gentle.
Ms. Alder placed the star badge in Cammi’s hand. It felt cool at first, then warmed to his scales. “You earned it,” she said.
Cammi looked at the colored pencils, and a happy thought burst into his mind: new stories, new drawings, maps of imaginary kingdoms and real secret hallways.
He looked at Ghost. “We did it together,” he said.
Ghost’s glow brightened like a lantern. “Teamwork,” Ghost agreed. “Also, you were the one with the polite fire.”
The Ancient Guardian stepped back, its form beginning to blend with the shadows again, like a statue returning to its place.
“REMEMBER,” it rumbled, not unkindly. “RESPECT OPENS WHAT FORCE CANNOT.”
Cammi nodded. “I will.”
As they left the attic, the symbols on the floor faded, as if the school was satisfied.
At the front hall, the main bell stood quietly, pretending it had never done anything magical in its life.
Cammi tucked the map and pencils into his backpack. He pinned the Junior Guardian badge to the strap, where it caught the light.
Ghost hovered beside him. “So,” Ghost said, “do Junior Guardians get snacks?”
Cammi grinned. “If they do, I’m guarding the cafeteria first.”
Ghost laughed, a sound like a breeze flipping pages.
When Cammi’s mom picked him up, she noticed the badge right away. “What’s that?” she asked.
Cammi looked out the school window as the building slipped past, solid and ordinary and also full of secrets.
“It’s… a school thing,” he said, smiling. “A good thing.”
That night, Cammi sat at his desk and opened the new colored pencils. The tips were sharp, ready for adventures.
He drew a dragon with careful wings and a gentle ember in his claws. He drew a floating Ghost with curious eyes. He drew a tall, cracked Guardian watching over a shining bell.
Then, in the corner of the page, he drew a tiny star sticker.
Cammi leaned back, feeling proud in a quiet way.
He had decoded a hidden message. He had found a real treasure. And most surprising of all, he had lit his fire just enough—steady, careful, and bright—like wonder, kept safe.