Iyojin had thought going back through her notes might help. She had dug up every previous iteration of the Weave - she wasn’t in the habit of throwing things away - and laid them out flat on the work surface in her lab.

She had tracked every change she had made throughout the generations, read through her notes on why, even changed tack and opened up even older projects, desperate for even a gleam of insight.

Mostly she had just been reminded of previous failures. She had completed many assignments over the course of her time in the Paperhall, but for every success there was inevitably a dozen attempts that lead nowhere.

She had been hoping that some pattern would reveal itself, some hidden system of change that would provide an answer on what to do next - but the only pattern she had found was of a tendency to keep iterating on dead ends. To keep trying past the point of no return.

She was more worried now than ever that her current project - the project that had secured her a room in the Paperhall - was past that point.

“Right, I’m not taking no for an answer this time,” Gihan’s oily voice intruded, as the man himself pushed his way into her laboratory.

Iyojin stared at him.

“We’re going to Kagino’s, we’re having a drink, and we’re watching the fights,” He said firmly, arms crossed. “It’ll be good for you and for your project.”

Iyojin sat at her desk a little longer, observing Gihan, internally debating. She didn’t exactly want to encourage her classmate - these diversions were unwelcome distractions that she could generally do without. On the other hand, she was simply wallowing in here - perhaps a change in scenery would do her some good.

When was the last time she had left the Paperhall, anyway?

Gihan sighed and uncrossed his arms, but before he could say anything Iyojin stood, nodded, and gathered her project papers together, stacking them gently in the basket beside her desk.

“Fine,” she said finally, walking past him and sliding shut the hexagonal paper door. “You have a Dragonfly?”

She wound a length of silk around the latch, memorising the Weave as she did so. If it was tampered with or broken, she would know - not that she necessarily expected it to be. The Paperhall was a respectable, secure institution.

“Ah, um- yes, yes, I do,” Gihan stammered out, before appearing to find his bearings- and the confident smile oozed back onto his face. “New breed, actually - extra taper on the wings for more manoeuvrability.”

“That doesn’t affect speed?” Iyojin asked as they began walking to the Aerial Dock.

“Max speed is cut slightly,” Gihan admitted, “but acceleration is still brilliant, and mainly for intra-nest flights anyway…”

They fell to discussing the specifics of Dragonfly bleeding as they wound their way downwards, away from the laboratories and into residential, then custodial and import/export. At the very base of the Paperhall was the Aerial Dock, a combination stable/landing stage for Paperhall commuters and transport breeds.

Gihan’s Dragonfly was stationed in a private jetty, a wooden perch that pointed downward and outward into the open space. An enclosed hexagonal space allowed the Dragonfly a place to sleep, but at the approach of its master the Titan Insect awoke, crawled out, and unfurled broad gossamer wings.

He hadn’t been lying, Iyojin noted. The breed’s wings were tapered more than was typical for Titan Dragonflies.

As she circled the beast, observing the integrity of the exoskeleton, Gihan set about attaching the Chitin saddle to the beast’s thorax. Once the dull brown-red carapace had been secured, he shrugged into the receiver Chitin, a combination pauldrons-and-gorget that rested across the shoulders and about the neck.

“Please, be seated,” Gihan said, once he was wearing the proto-Chitin. Ignoring his proffered, hand, Iyojin took hold of the saddle horn and swung herself up into the passenger position.

Gihan sighed - almost inaudibly - and clambered up into the driver’s position, before taking hold of the Bridging Silk and connecting himself to the saddle Chitin.

Now he was totally in control of the Titan Dragonfly. Silkbonding was a permanent process - only Gihan would ever be able to fly this Dragonfly - but far more dysphoria-inducing than full-body Chitins were.

Depending on the complexity of the Weave, Iyojin added internally, thinking back to her current project. Attempt to connect too many modules - or too complicated a module - and the feedback can be debilitating.

“Ready?” Gihan asked as he settled in, flashing her a quick smile over his shoulder.

“Yes,” she replied, gripping firmly onto the saddle horns separating their seats.

“Hold on tight,” he said - as though she wasn’t doing that already - and took off.

The Dragonfly dropped from its perch, and Iyojin’s stomach went with it. For a few nauseating seconds they were in total freefall, dropping away from the Paperhall and into the open air of Swarm Cradle’s central chamber.

Even as the wind rushed through Iyojin’s tangle mane of coarse brown hair, she couldn’t help but appreciate the view. It was available through the window in her lab, of course, but out here in the open it felt different.

Above, the roof of the underground society was lit by thousands of embedded glowlamps, each powered by the glow organs of Titan Fireflies. They cast a pleasant, yellow-white light over the structures below - dozens of giant cocoons were built into the walls, for the various nobility. Down below, the enormous Titan Termite mounds of heavy industry cast intimidating figures around the edges of Swarm Cradle.

The northwestern quadrant was dominated by smaller, more utilitarian, standardised structures that indicated communal housing. The southeastern quadrant was dominated by a small number of larger complexes, made out of a combinations of Titan Ant and Wasp nests, with designated open areas - the breeding grounds for Titan Insects.

Gihan was taking them to either the southwestern or northeastern quadrants - the entertainment quarters, though as Kagino’s was part bar, part fighting pit, it was likely located in the slightly less savoury southwestern.

And at the centre of Swarm Cradle was Hive Palace. The spire of the elegantly constructed nest pushed high into the airspace of Swarm Cradle, where dozens - hundreds, probably - of Titan Insects flitted about, taking their riders to one destination or another. Down below, between the nests, skittered the Titan Millipedes transporting those who couldn’t afford Silkbonding.

Gihan’s Dragonfly darted downward, into Swarm Cradle’s airspace proper. Iyojin glanced back for a look at Paperhall, where the collection of Titan Wasp nests were clustered in one complex on the ceiling of the chamber, jutting downward but otherwise disconnected from the Cradle.

That, Iyojin knew, had always been part of the appeal.

Gihan’s Dragonfly was fast. Certainly one of the faster Silkbonded Insects she’d been on, not the Iyojin had ridden many. It flitted in between airlanes with ease, circling about Hive Palace before dropping down toward the southwestern quadrant.

Kagino’s was a broad, flat cocoon built into the upper spire of a Termite mound, which gave it a surprisingly decent view of the palace and the vista of buildings.

They landed on a perch jutting from the spire just below the cocoon itself, where a uniformed docksman was waiting to guide their Dragonfly down into the stable proper. Gihan dismounted, disconnected, and passed him the Bridging Silk. Iyojin was only a moment behind, glancing about the other jetties. There were a scant few others in use at the moment, barely three or four other docksmen and two Titan Blowflies.

Gihan noticed her speculatory glances and offered her a cocky grin.

“Kagino’s is a cut above the usual fare in this part of town,” he said, guiding her along the perch and towards the staircase cut into the mound. “It’s reserved for when the more refined want to unwind in peace.”

Iyojin said nothing, merely following Gihan as he lead her upward and inward, through a hatch in the bottom of the cocoon and into the establishment.

A quiet, humming throb of music undercut the generally-relaxed chatter and conversation of the half-populated bar, which immediately set Iyojin on edge. The rustling quiet of the Paperhall was far more her speed.

The cocoon itself appeared to be two-tiered - an outer, upper tier which ran around the perimeter of the circular cocoon, including a viewing deck and various countertops for purchasing drinks. Then, towards the center of the cocoon, and set partially into the stone of the mound itself on a lower level, was a circular pit, with two sliding doors and a flat surface.

This was where the fighters would be doing battle.

Iyojin found herself drawn closer to it, imagining for a moment the two Chitin-clad warriors facing off against each other, unleashing their arsenals with ferocity, or perhaps calculated efficiency. She pictured one fighter as tall, broad, a bruiser reliant on brute strength and resistant, and the other as quick, evasive, wearing down their opponent with precision strikes.

Her heart fluttered a little as she imagined their clashes, repeated and ferocious, interminably drawing closer to the moment one of them would see an opening, an opportunity to strike into the heart of their foe, cut them down in that final instant and claim victory-!

“We’re over here, Iyojin,” Gihan said, breaking Iyojin from her stupor. She turned to stare at him for a moment, disoriented.

“... ‘We’?” she finally asked.

“Ah, yes, well, a few friends of mine are also interested in seeing the fights tonight,” he said, flashing her a slightly nervous grin. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

Iyojin quashed her annoyance, and shook her head, merely following Gihan as he lead her to a semi-circular table that looked out onto the fighting pits. There were four others already there, each about their age. Gihan took a seat in the middle of the four, then leaned over to whisper to the man sitting next to him, a round-faced but serious-looking teen.

He jumped out of his seat and walked away to grab a chair from another table.

“Here, Iyojin,” Gihan said. “Sit next to me.” He patted the seat his companion had just vacated.

Iyojin hesitated - for barely a moment, before walking over and sitting.

Gihan introduced his companions in turn - two of them were also Paperhall students, one was the heir to a Titan Honey factory, and the last - the only other girl at the table - did not supply a job or educational institution.

“Excited for the match?” One of Gihan’s male companions, the factory heir, sat forward, resting his elbows on the table and shooting her a slimy smile.

She nodded.

Silence reigned at the table for a moment, and the grin slowly slid off of the man’s face.

“Ah, Iyojin is mostly here for inspiration,” Gihan chuckled. “She’s a weapons specialist at the Paperhall, working on her final project.”

Another of his companions let out a low, impressed whistle. “I’m still vying for Executor transfer,” he admitted. “Couldn’t hack the Weaving aspect, but I’m on track for Field Captain. One day I’ll be organising Executor operations for the whole Outrider division.”

She nodded. Another temporary silence fell over the table.

“Haiyeun,” the woman said, addressing the man who had vacated his seat for her. “Why don’t you get us a round of drinks?”

Haiyeun - the other Paperhall student - nodded and stood.

The others at the table quickly rattled off their drinks orders - a series of cocktails and alcoholic beverages, most of which Iyojin had never heard of.

“Get whatever you like, Iyojin,” Gihan said, leaning in toward her. “My treat.”

Iyojin nodded, slowly, and when it came to her turn, she simply asked for a Honeywater - essentially just diluted Titan Honey, it made the intensely sweet and nutritious substance into just a mildly-sugary but rather filling drink.

Haiyeun quickly departed, and Gihan fell into conversation with the Field Captain hopeful and the Honey factory heir. Iyojin, and the mysterious other woman, remained silent.

Iyojin found her eyes returning, gradually but inevitably, to the fighting pits. The suspense of the upcoming contest was surprisingly intoxicating, and if she let herself get carried away by the romance of it all she found that she was, in fact, legitimately excited for the battle to come.

Perhaps she should have let Gihan bring her here a while ago?

Haiyeun returned with the drinks, passing out each one to their respective orderer, and sat in the seat he had claimed from an empty table to their right.

“A toast,” Gihan said, once everyone had their drink in hand. “To Kagino’s, and to our futures. May they be exceedingly prosperous!”

“Hear hear!” crowed the factory heir, and they all took long draughts from their drinks.

Iyojin did the same, if only out of exasperation, but only took a slight sip from her cup. The rest let out satisfied gasps as they slammed their cups back down. When Iyojin glazed at the group again, she noticed that the other girl had fixed her with an inscrutable look.

She glanced away, uncomfortable.

The undercurrent of humming music began to ease off, and Gihan perked up. “I do believe,” he said with a broad, eager grin, “that battle is about to be joined.”

The paper doors on either side of the arena slid open, and Iyojin found herself leaning forward, just as enthusiastic about the prospect of bloodshed.