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Mizbi the Bard lived beyond the Dragon's door for many an age. The Dragon's lair was far more spacious than the accommodations she'd kept inside Mizbi's head. For a laugh, the Dragon would often remind her of this, much to Mizbi's chagrin.
"Stop saying my head is so small!" said Mizbi. "My head must be infinitely large, for at one point it fit all of your infinite-sized ego inside of it!"
Is such a thing possible? To fit infinity inside of infinity?
"Anyway, it does not matter," said the Dragon, "for I can observe your head and see that it is quite small."
Mizbi hissed. The Dragon laughed and laughed, then realized Mizbi was serious about how angry she was and sought to make amends.
"If your head is not small, then prove it. Craft a riddle for me, and I will give you what you desire. I will not call attention to your tiny, puny little head ever again."
"A riddle for you?" Mizbi asked.
"An impossible riddle. One I will not be able to solve," said the Dragon.
Mizbi hardly even stopped to think before blurting out her riddle
"What is something that in order to have, you must give it up?"
The Dragon settled in. This one would be a thinker, and yet Mizbi had thought of it so quickly. She grumbled and fretted. The moons waxed and waned. And at last, she begged Mizbi for her answer.
"The answer is the answer," said Mizbi.
There it is.
"What is something that in order to have, you must give it up? The answer to an impossible riddle. For once you have it, the riddle stops being impossible. You asked the impossible, which was for an impossible riddle—but anything is possible. Which means it is impossible to—"
"That is enough, said the Dragon," out of you and your big head."
Perhaps you see where this is headed, inheritor. It's not enough to be clever or trick the Dragon.
You have to trap her.