School was but one of many things Jocelyn missed about home.

She had pictured classes in the Crooked House being similar to those on Earth, with Gerhmaine standing in front of a large dusty chalkboard, scribbling formulas all over it while droning on about numbers and equations. His students, meanwhile, would listen diligently at their desks, organized row-by-row.

When Jocelyn first entered into the lecture hall, she was mildly disappointed to find that its arrangement was different from what she imagined.

Gerhmaine stood at the center of the room, arms folded across his chest, nodding at each one of his students as they filed in. Surrounding him were red cushions on the floor, where Jocelyn presumed they were to sit.

She seemed to be the only one holding a notebook and pen.

Wynter was already in his seat, cross-legged and hunched over.

“Come on then, there’s a lot to get to today,” Gerhmaine announced.

Jocelyn observed the rest of the lecture room. In place of chalkboards were translucent glass panels, lining the south side of the wall. Above them hung floating shelves, books of all manners piled on top of them. The north wall was what really grabbed her attention. A collection of strange artifacts was displayed there, all of them alien to her. Some resembled weapons while others looked like precious stones. Jocelyn figured she’d learn about them soon enough.

“Well, Ms. Dark, are you going to take a seat?”

Jocelyn nodded. The two empty seats remaining were both beside Wynter. No one wanted to sit next to him. She took the seat to his left.

“Is Cecelia still out of commission?” Goran asked, pointing at the remaining empty spot.

Gerhmaine shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. She’ll be here when she’s here.”

Goran had made mention of Cecelia when Jocelyn first met the other students. She could only imagine what kind of character this girl was, compared to the others.

“I thought we’d start this morning with a quiz,” Gerhmaine said, “Something to sharpen those brain muscles that are quite dull at the moment.”

Immediately, everyone groaned.

“What? No one likes my quizzes?”

“No one likes the consequences of getting an answer wrong,” Faria replied.

Consequences? Jocelyn didn’t like the sound of that. Surely she’d get exempted from questions and consequences, seeing how it was her first day and she knew nothing.

Jocelyn leaned in towards Wynter. “What are the consequences?”

“They change each time. For instance, the last consequence involved extracting venom from a white basilisk. That’s why Cecelia isn’t here at the moment.”

“She was poisoned?”

Wynter nodded. “She died.”

His answer came as a surprise to Jocelyn. If Cecelia had died, why were Goran and Gerhmaine expecting her back? But more concerning, did failing any of Gerhmaine’s tests mean death?

“So is everyone ready?” Gerhmaine asked.

“No,” Faria said, almost instantaneously.

“Perfect.” Gerhmaine smiled and clasped his hands together. “Faria, you can go first.”

“Damn this,” she muttered.

“Faria has yet to get an answer correct in these impromptu quizzes,” Wynter announced, loud enough for everyone else to hear, despite the message being for Jocelyn’s ears only.

Wynter wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t the best communicator.

Faria shot him a look filled with daggers and rat poison.

Gerhmaine stroked his beard, deep in thought. Finally, he asked his question. “Faria, can you please tell us what Abaddon’s three principles of magic are?”

Faria bit her lip and closed her eyes. She was concentrating hard, Jocelyn could tell. “The strength of someone’s magic is correlated to the magic user’s state of mind,” she began.

“Yes, that is correct. That is the first principle,” Gerhmaine acknowledged.

A slight smile crept across Faria’s face. “Magic cannot be enslaved.”

“Correct. What is the last, and most important, principle?”

Faria began mumbling to herself, going through all the different possible answers. Almost thirty seconds had passed, and she was still without a definite answer.

“Fail her already,” Tryps snickered.

Gerhmaine hushed him, before turning his attention back to Faria. “Well? Do you know Abaddon’s last principle of magic?”

Faria’s eyes widened.

“Well? What is your answer?”

“I forgot,” she said, in complete utter defeat.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Gerhmaine said. “You were so close. Wynter, would you like to enlighten the class on what Abaddon’s final principle is?”

“Only if I have to,” Wynter said.

“You have to.”

Wynter sighed. He spoke at the ground. “Magic is not—”

“Turn to Faria to say it,” Gerhmaine said. “She’s the one that needs to hear it, not the floor boards.”

Wynter did as he was told and stared at Faria with wide, unblinking eyes. “Magic is not an infinite resource. A fair trade or exchange must be made to create it.”

Gerhmaine nodded. “Yes, that’s the final principle I was looking for.” He turned to Faria. “Got it? See me after class to receive your consequence. Wynter, an excellent explanation as always.”

Was that why the other students resented Wynter? Gerhmaine had publicly turned him into a teacher’s pet.

Even on Yve, it seemed like being a know-it-all was frowned upon.

“The next question if for you Kema,” Gerhmaine said. “I know you’ll do well. You always do.”

“We’ll see,” Kema said humbly.

“Tell me about the two different types of curses, and how they can be cured.”

Kema’s eyes lighted up. She knew the answer. “The two types of curses are transient curses and blood curses,” she began. “Transient curses can be cured by the blessing from a delegate of the divine. Blood curses can only be cured by the divine or gods themselves.”

Gerhmaine nodded. “Excellent. Believe me, everyone, the last thing you ever want is to be cursed, especially by a Mensis Witch. It’s a terrible thing, not to mention the gods don’t usually go out of their way to assist us.”

“So what happens if you’re blood cursed, and a divine refuses to heal us?” Goran asked.

“Best solution is to probably kill yourself. That’s what Cecelia had to do a couple of years back,” Gerhmaine suggested.

Cecelia died twice already? That didn’t make any sense. Nothing here on Yve did.

“Jocelyn, you’re up next,” Gerhmaine said, as he directed a long bony finger at her.

“You’re kidding, right? It’s my first day here.”

Tryps laughed. “I used that excuse too before. It didn’t work.”

“There’s no way I’m going to get any of these questions right. I’m not prepared.”

Gerhmaine frowned. “Jocelyn Dark, magic is not about preparation. It’s about instinct and emotion, art and sacrifice. It’s about embracing the abnormal.”

“You’re setting me up for failure,” Jocelyn pointed out. “My answer to your question is going to be wrong.”

Gerhmaine pursed his lips. “You doubt yourself?”

“Damn straight I doubt myself. I don’t know the first thing about Abaddon’s principles or Mensis Witches and their crazy-ass curses. Ask me a question about music or math, and I might stand a chance.”

Gerhmaine shook his head. “No. The best I can do for you, Jocelyn, is asking your question last.”

“Fine,” she replied. At least that was better than nothing.

Gerhmaine directed his next questions at Tryps. “Tell me about the Witch’s Revolution.”

Tryps grinned. “I know this one!”

“Fantastic,” Gerhmaine said sarcastically. “Now give me an answer.”

“It was when all these bat-shit crazy witch bitches decided to use their magic against the growth of technology in order to hold it back. It became a full-fledged war between the witches and a combined army of the Asrai, Xaksu, and Cymerians—that was before the Xaksu became even crazier and decided to try and enslave the universe.”

Gerhmaine tilted his head slightly. “I guess that’s close enough. How did the war end?”

“Asmodella took back all her magic, leaving the witches with only their warty noses and broomsticks.”

“Witches don’t have broomsticks,” Gerhmaine said. “And most of them were quite attractive, to be honest.”

“Everybody has a broomstick,” Faria said. “Hell, I had a broomstick. You have to sweep the dirt somehow.”

“Broomsticks to ride on,” Gerhmaine corrected himself.

Tryps grinned. “So you like my answer then?”

“No, I don’t like your answer,” Gerhmaine said. “But, it’s acceptable. The content is more or less there.”

“Sweet, no consequences,” Tryps said, practically gloating. He turned to Faria and winked.

Faria gave him a look that could rot an orchid.

Jocelyn wondered if any of the students here actually liked each other, aside from Goran. He seemed to like everybody.

Gerhmaine directed his attention towards him next. “Are you ready for your question, Goran?”

The Dromedian’s eyes immediately diverted to the ground. “I think so.”

“Good. Tell me the purpose of the Chatelaine’s Bonfire.”

Goran smiled. “Those who conjure this bonfire and rest within the radius of its warmth can communicate with Lenore, the divine of wisdom. Most people choose not to communicate with her though, since more often than not, she reveals elements of the Universe that our simple minds can’t comprehend. All those who speak to her often go insane.”

Gerhmaine nodded. “Good answer. The fundamental lesson here is this: some things in this Universe are not meant for us mortals to know. In doing so, we will end up going crazy.”

“I’m already going crazy,” Tryps said.

Gerhmaine ignored the comment and turned to Wynter.

“Wynter, I’d like for you to explain the Divine Universe Theory and tell us who developed said theory?”

Wynter closed his eyes. He spoke in a sullen, monotone voice. “The Divine Universe theory was developed by Nicodemus, the First Scholar. It states that all of existence is divided into four layers. The first is the physical Universe itself, everything that is constructed from the elements of the Galactic Periodic Table. We reside in this layer. The second layer is the Beguiling and it is here that magic exists, along with spirits and souls, and other things that require require leaps of faith to understand. The third layer is the Divine Kingdom. This is where the gods live. The final layer is known as the Outerdark. Nobody knows what’s there. Those who have ventured to the Outerdark have never returned. It’s believed that within this layer exists a power with the capability of bringing down the gods along with the rest of the Universe.”

The flood of information was starting to overwhelm Jocelyn as she furiously jotted down notes. She’d have to remember to visit this one later--perhaps create a diagram for her own memory.

Gerhmaine nodded, satisfied. “Your answer was detailed, as always.”

Jocelyn twitched in her seat. She was next.

“And this brings us once again to you, Jocelyn,” Gerhmaine said. There was no sympathy in his eyes.

“I can’t answer any of the stuff you’re asking,” Jocelyn protested. “I’m going to fail.”

“And failure is all part of learning, is it not?” he asked.

“Not when one of the consequences is me getting poisoned…again.”

“My consequences teach you to be careful and to be precise in your actions. Cecelia is not exactly known for either. You, on the other hand, seem to have a steady hand. You need not worry.”

“I am worried.”

Gerhmaine ignored her comment. “Ms. Jocelyn Dark, can you explain to me what Bartholomew’s Sacrifice is?”

No, she could not. After listening to all the other answers, she figured it was something fantastical and beyond the scope of her own imagination.

“I… I have no damn clue,” she said.

“Give me an answer, the first one that pops into your head,” Gerhmaine encouraged her. “Trust in Asmodella and the vessel which you draw magic from. The answer may already exist somewhere within the recesses of your mind.”

Jocelyn closed her eyes, emptied her thoughts, and allowed the words to flow freely from her mouth. “After the Xaksu Empire decided to take over the Universe, a Cymerian named Bartholomew sacrificed his life in order to liberate a clan of magic users who were committed to the teachings of Asmodella.”

She opened her eyes and looked at Gerhmaine, who had a surprised look on his face.

“Was that correct?” Jocelyn asked.

“Why Ms. Dark, that’s…” he paused, “…A complete utter pile of horseshit.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “Well of course it is. It’s not like I had a chance to read up on anything.”

Gerhmaine didn’t seem to care. He turned to Wynter.

“Wynter, would you like to enlighten Ms. Dark what the Bartholomew Sacrifice is?”

“Not really.”

“Do you know the answer?” Gerhmaine asked.

Wynter rubbed the back of his neck. “Well yes, but—”

“Then please share with the class. Knowledge must not be kept a secret.”

Wynter pursed his lips as he glanced at everyone else in sitting in the circle. He clearly didn’t enjoy being the designated teacher’s pet. It made him an outcast.

He answered the question nonetheless. “Bartholomew’s Sacrifice is a ritual in which sacrificing the last of a species will initiate the birth of a new one. It is believed the Nordiscans were created through this sacrifice.

Gerhmaine nodded. “So Jocelyn, it looks like you will be joining Faria in suffering a consequence.”

“Which is?” Jocelyn asked.

Gerhmaine rubbed his chin. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, actually,” he said. “I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Whatever it is, just try not to have one of us killed this time,” Faria said.

“Why? Are my students afraid of a little danger?” Gerhmaine mused. “If you think you have it bad here, you should see what Octava does to her students as a part of their consequences.”

Faria sighed. “I’d rather take my chances over there. At least Octava isn’t crazy, like you.”

Gerhmaine smiled. “You’re only making the consequence worse for yourself and Ms. Dark.”

“Yeah, well…whatever. Sink and swim for the new girl. As for me, I’ll take whatever you’ve got, you old bat.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Gerhmaine said. “I can think of some consequences you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.”

All of a sudden, being an ore extractor for the Xaksu didn’t seem so bad.