This story received an honorable mention in the 2021 4th quarter Writers of the Future contest.
Sprinting among the stone pillars, the acolyte did the unthinkable: he moved in a straight line. Built by generations forgotten by time, the spacious halls provided ample room for social decorum and personal boundaries. But today, in his youthful haste, he bumped past the students and professors, ignoring their shrieks and flushed tentacles. He felt his skin pulse in rippled patchworks of bright blues, purples, and yellows radiating over his primary field of dull grays and browns, hopeful his transgressions would be forgiven once word had spread.
“Master, we found it!” The acolyte’s tentacles heaved against the massive door.