“Binding,” Gerhmaine began, “is a dangerous affair. The potential damage of a poorly executed binding ritual is catastrophic.” He looked into the eyes of every one of his students who sat in a circle around him. “Today, I’m going to have you all perform a binding ritual.”

“Didn’t he just say binding was a dangerous affair?” Tryps whispered to Goran.

It seemed as if Gerhmaine was hell-bent on inflicting as much damage to his students as possible, all in the name of education. Jocelyn likened it to teaching a child simple arithmetic by adding and subtracting loaded guns.

Faria raised her hand.

Gerhmaine turned to her and nodded. “Yes? What stupid question do you have for me this time?”

“As much as I’m gung-ho about performing this binding ritual and ultimately bringing forth the destruction of life around me, can we at least get a definition of binding?”

Gerhmaine rolled his eyes. “Don’t any of you read anymore? It’s on page eight hundred and forty-three of your basic manual for magic, which I’ve uploaded to your tablets.”

Jocelyn raised her hand.

Gerhmaine frowned. “Yes, you fool?”

“We have tablets?”

“Yes, you all do,” Gerhmaine stated.

Goran turned to Tryps. “Did you get a tablet?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Sir, I’ve been here the longest and I don’t recall any of the students ever receiving a tablet,” Kema pointed out.

Gerhmaine looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Kema said.

He scratched his head through his hood. “Strange. I’ll have to check on that one. Maybe they’re all held up in inventory.”

Faria leaned in towards Jocelyn. “And this is why Gerhmaine’s band of merry misfits loses the Contest to Octava’s students every year. They’re given all the latest gadget and tools. Meanwhile, we’re all struggling like beggars.”

“I heard that Faria,” Gerhmaine announced. “Are you so eager to face a consequence along with Ms. Dark?”

Faria bit her upper lip. “No,” she stated.

The phantom smells of Ysomara excrement still haunted Jocelyn.

“A pity. I had a good one set-aside for today,” Gerhmaine said. “Now, in answering your question—what is binding?” He motioned for the students to rise from their seats.

They all did.

“Follow me,” he instructed.

Jocelyn had expected him to lead them to the next room over, but that would have been very un-Gerhmaine like.

Instead he had them leave the Crooked House and trek about a quarter mile out to the edge of the cliff, down five hundred stone steps, and onto the beach next to the ocean.

Nestled on the white sand was a stone altar. Resting on top of it was a lantern, forged from black iron.

The sounds of the winds and the waves drowned out Gerhmaine’s voice as he spoke while everyone else caught their breath from the grueling hike.

For five minutes, Gerhmaine spoke, but none of his words were comprehensible.

“We can’t hear you,” Faria eventually shouted.

“What?” Gerhmaine hollered back.

“We can’t hear you.”

“I can’t hear you,” he said as he held up one hand, indicating for her to hold her thought. He turned to the ocean, muttered a few words, and then immediately, the waters stilled.

Jocelyn was amazed. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tranquilize the ocean.”

Gerhmaine shrugged. “I just asked it to keep quiet. It’s not a big deal, really.” He pointed at the lantern on the stone altar. “Now, this lantern is a big deal. Can I have a volunteer please?”

No one stepped forward. In fact, a few of them had taken a single step back. Goran, meanwhile, had become opaque in an effort to make himself less visible to Gerhmaine.

It didn’t work.

“Goran,” Gerhmaine announced. “Come over here.”

Goran’s eyes widened as he looked at Tryps desperately. “Save me,” he mouthed.

“Sorry man, only the strong survive,” his so-called friend replied.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Gerhmaine said. “Make me wait any longer and there will be a consequence.”

Gerhmaine was wielding the consequence card like a barbarian with a battle-axe.

Goran approached the stone altar cautiously, as if it were a ticking time bomb. Jocelyn wouldn’t have been surprised if it actually was one.

“Goran, my timid Dromedian pupil, what do you see on the altar?”

“A lantern,” Goran said.

Gerhmaine nodded. “Now, Goran, would you like to hold up the lantern for everyone else to see?”

“Will it kill me?” he asked.

“Don’t be foolish. It’s just a lantern,” Gerhmaine said.

Goran took a deep breath and picked up the lantern gingerly, resting the base on the palm of one hand and holding the handle with the other.

“Now this isn’t just any lantern,” Gerhmaine began.

Goran turned to his teacher. “You told me that it was just a lantern,” he said.

“Quiet. I’m trying to fill your imbecile brains with valuable knowledge here,” Gerhmaine said. “As I was saying, this is no ordinary lantern. You see, this lantern—the Gaoler’s Lantern—is special in three ways: the first is that it acts as a ward against any magic within its vicinity. If anyone tries to cast a spell while in the radius of the lamp’s light, the caster will end up receiving a second degree burn.”

“So we can’t cast magic now?” Kema asked.

“Only when the lantern is lit,” Gerhmaine confirmed. “Right now, it’s as dead as a decapitated horse.”

Jocelyn groaned at the mental image.

“The second use for Gaoler Lanterns is to illuminate the darkness, thus functioning as a…well as a lantern. Good for burning the midnight oil, which none of you should be doing. You need your sleep.”

Not unless you spend your nights in the Beguiling, researching how to save your life. Jocelyn thought.

“Now the final use of these lamps is rather gruesome. During the War of the Witches, the Xaksu, Asrai and Cymerian coalition instilled a policy that at the end of the war, all prisoners—prisoners being Witches—were to be exterminated with extreme prejudice.”

“That’s rather barbaric, isn’t it?” Wynter asked. It was the first time Jocelyn heard him speak today. His hands were in his pockets and his body was slouched over and he spoke as if he were ordering food at a drive-through.

“I’ll tell you what’s barbaric,” Gerhmaine said. “Having your body flipped inside-out. The Witches loved doing that to their prisoners. They also enjoyed eating hearts, peeling the scalps off of children, and biting the eyeballs right out of their sockets. The witches weren’t just barbaric—they were nasty demons covered in soft flesh. We decided to burn every one of them alive.”

It sounded like Gerhmaine was in the thick of this war, which Jocelyn thought occurred centuries ago. Just how old was he?

Gerhmaine paused. Though he spoke with passion in his words, he didn’t seem to get too riled or angry. Was this what Gerhmaine was talking about when he mentioned one’s ability to master their emotions? Did he have the ability to compartmentalize his feelings and just state facts without getting his anger involved?

“Let me guess, the flames you used to burn witches was from a Gaoler’s Lantern,” Tryps said.

Gerhmaine nodded. “Yes. The flame itself had magical properties, one that prevented the soul of a dying Witch from hiding itself within the smoke and escaping into the atmosphere.” He turned to Goran, who was still holding out the lantern. “You may set the lantern down now,” Gerhmaine instructed.

Goran did as he was told.

“Now, what I’m about to show you next maybe a bit concerning,” Gerhmaine said. A warning from Gerhmaine?

Jocelyn braced herself for the worst.

Gerhmaine pointed a finger at the ocean. Suddenly emerging out of the waters like some fantastical beast of the sea was a large glass orb. There was someone inside; a beautiful young woman. At first glance she looked human, with the exception of a third eye at the top of her head. She had long dark hair that fell to her knees and blood-red pointed lips that were grinning with amusement. She was wearing a long, white, see-through dress, which Tryps seemed to enjoy.

“Why hello there,” Tryps said, licking his lips.

“She’s a vile Witch,” Gerhmaine stated. “Or rather, the soul of a vile Witch which we’ve kept imprisoned for centuries.”

“In the water?” Kema asked.

Gehrmaine nodded. “The ocean has been a faithful guardian of secrets and monsters all these years.”

Wynter leaned into Jocelyn. “This is what I meant when I said there are monsters in the water.”

“No kidding,” Jocelyn breathed.

The Witch pressed her hand against her stomach.

“In front of you are the two elements you need to execute a binding ritual,” Gerhmaine stated. “The first being an object or artifact of historical significance and the second being a soul. Can anyone guess what’s next?”

No one offered an answer.

“Wynter?”

Wynter shoved his hands further into his pockets and then spoke. “You’re going to bind the soul of the Witch into the lantern.”

Gerhmaine smiled. “I knew you’d get that one. Tell everyone what the purpose of that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Would you like a consequence for not sharing the vast amounts of knowledge in that cranium of yours?”

“Please do,” Tryps said. “It’s about damn time he endured some consequences like the rest of us.”

“Sure,” Wynter said ambivalently. “I don’t mind a consequence.”

“Nonsense,” Gerhmaine said. “Don’t be foolish, Wynter. Tell everyone what the purpose of binding is.”

“It’s how magical artifacts and weapons are created.”

Gerhmaine clasped his hands together. “Exactly.” He turned to the Witch in the glass dome. “You are to be bound to the Gaoler’s Lantern. It’ll be irony at its finest; merging within an artifact that assisted in your death.”

The Witch remained silent.

“Now, it’s important for everyone to know that one cannot just bind a random soul together with a random artifact. They both must be cursed.”

“Cursed as in a hex placed on them?” Faria asked.

Gerhmaine shook his head. “No, not that definition of ‘curse,’ but rather cursed as in an ill-fated event resulting in a tragedy beyond the capabilities of an empathetic soul to cope.”

Jocelyn was confused. “How can an artifact experience tragedy?” she asked.

Gerhmaine smiled. “Good, Ms. Dark. You’re starting to ask relevant questions, which means you’re starting to learn.”

“How come the questions she asks are relevant, while you think mine are stupid?” Faria snapped.

“Because they are stupid. Now quiet, and allow me to answer Ms. Dark’s question.” Gerhmaine said.

“Ass,” Faria muttered, low enough so the others couldn’t hear. Jocelyn did, however.

“When it comes to cursed artifacts, there are two different types,” Gerhmaine began as he paced back and forth. “The first type of cursed artifact is one which has inflicted tragedy upon an individual. Most weapons fall under this category, including the Gaoler’s Lamp which was used for countless Witch executions. The second type of cursed artifact is one that is present during a tragedy—a witness. For instance, mirrors that are present during heinous murders fall into this category, as are any other objects splattered with the blood of the deceased. Do we all understand?”

It was then the Witch spoke for the first time. “Should my ashes be considered cursed as well, wherever they may reside? I was murdered after all.” There was something seductive about her voice, a deep, yet distinctly feminine, tone that sounded like a whisper carried by the wind.

Gerhmaine grinned. “I should think not, you vile wench. You weren’t murdered. You were judged and found guilty for your crimes.”

“Not all of us who burned that day were guilty.”

Gerhmaine ignored her. “Now, there’s one more item of importance that must be noted. Both the artifact and the soul in a binding process must have experienced tragedy of equal value. That is if an innocent individual was murdered by a sword, then one could bind them to a weapon that has taken one life. However, if that weapon had slaughtered an entire family for instance, that weapon would not be capable of binding a singular soul. The ratio must always remain one to one.”

“What about the lantern and the Witch?” Jocelyn asked. “The flame of the lamp must have executed countless Witches, correct?”

Gerhmaine nodded. “Yes, sixty-seven Witches to be exact.”

Jocelyn pointed at the Witch. “She is only one.”

“Ah, but you forget Lyko’s Principle then.”

“More like I don’t know about Lyko’s Principle,” Jocelyn said.

“Hush and listen. Lyko’s principle states that when you’re responsible for someone’s death, the weight of their lost soul is burdened onto you.”

Goran scratched his bald, leathery head. “I’m confused.”

Gerhmaine smiled. “Then let me take this time to introduce you to an infographic I created, inspired by what I’ve seen from Jocelyn’s meticulous notes. Hopefully this should clarify any questions you have on binding, and Lyko’s Principle.”

Gerhmaine waved his hands in the air and suddenly a large image the size of a building appeared out of thin air. It was an infographic on the principals of binding.

“That’s actually pretty creative,” Faria whispered to Tryps, who nodded.

“I like his zombie,” he noted. “Though I’m kind of confused by the cowbell. Since when was bovine decor considered a weapon?”

Gerhmaine was quick to respond. “Clearly you’re not up to date on your history of the galaxy. I suggest you read the Secret War of the Malboro Cows, Tryps, so you can understand just how deadly a cowbell can be.”

Jocelyn studied the picture carefully. If Lyko’s Principle held true, then this meant Jocelyn had two souls burdened to her: hers and Bulba Fyore’s.

Gerhmaine pointed at the Witch. “She was responsible for the deaths of sixty-six individuals exactly.”

The Witch smiled.

“Am I correct in this number?” Gerhmaine asked her.

“You are,” she said. “You know I cannot lie.”

“No, you can’t,” Gerhmaine said. “Wynter, who discovered that the souls of the deceased cannot lie?”

“Joheim Kron,” Wynter replied.

“You are correct.” Gerhmaine strolled over to the orb containing the Witch and pressed up against it. “Sixty-six deaths you’ve caused. Ten of them were people I knew—good people.”

“And I have to wonder, how many souls in this life are burdened onto you?” she asked.

“I suppose you’ll find out when I die, won’t you?”

“And that day can’t come soon enough,” the Witch hissed.

Gerhmaine didn’t seem provoked by her words. He turned to Goran, who had been standing patiently by the altar all this time. “Goran, I want you to bind this Witch into the Gaoler’s Lantern,” Gerhmaine instructed.

“I have no idea how to do that,” Goran said.

“Nonsense, sure you do.”

“I seriously don’t.”

Gerhmaine sighed. “Goran what do you know about phantoms?”

The Dromedian thought about it for a moment, before replying. “They are souls that exist in the first layer of the universe, when in actuality they belong in the Beguiling.”

“Yes,” Gerhmaine said. “Why are phantoms trapped on the first layer?”

“Because in order to descend to the Beguiling, a soul must be released of all its emotions and memories of life.”

Gerhmaine nodded. “Very good, Goran. Phantoms are beings that refuse to let go of their memories and their emotions of their past life. Now, think back to the third class you’ve had with me. What did you learn?”

Goran scratched his leathery head. “I…it’s been such a long time. The only thing I remember was digging empty graves out by the Silent King’s castle as a result of a consequence.”

“Those graves aren’t empty now,” Gerhmaine mumbled.

“What?” Goran asked.

“Never mind,” Gerhmaine said. “What you failed to remember was that any adept magic user can manipulate phantoms.”

“We can?”

“Yes, you nitwit,” Gerhmaine said. “Now, open your mouth.”

Goran did as was asked, stretching his mouth wide open. He showed his set of perfectly sharp teeth.

“Not like that,” Gerhmaine said. “Asmodella has gifted everyone with the power of a voice. With this voice you have the ability to influence wandering souls to do your bidding.”

“I can control the dead?” Goran asked.

“No, you cannot control the dead. That’s reserved for necromancy. What you can do is influence the dead. You just have to sell them on the idea. Very few have ever been able to master it,” Gerhmaine stated.

“So if we can’t bind this Witch to the lantern, are we facing consequence?” Tryps asked.

Gerhmaine thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. “No. This task is extremely difficult. I have yet to see a student who has been able to bind this particular Witch to the lantern. In fact, if any of you can do it, I will give them one thousand credits along with transportation to Terralai City for a night out, without my supervision. There is no catch to this offer.”

Apparently this was a big deal as all the students broke out into simultaneously glee at the potential of the reward.

“Unsupervised? One thousand credits? Damn, I’m going to get wasted on poppy rum,” Tryps announced.

“Shopping, shopping, shopping,” Kema ranted. It was the first time Jocelyn had seen Kema lose control of her emotions.

Everyone but Jocelyn seemed overjoyed by the Gerhmaine’s reward. She wondered what Terralai City had to offer.

“Now Goran, if you will, bind the Witch to the lamp,” Gerhmaine instructed once again.

“She can’t hurt me, right?”

“Not physically, no.”

Goran swallowed, “Alright then.” He picked up the lantern and slowly made his way towards the Witch. Once he was a foot away from her, he lifted the lantern. “Would you like to get into the lantern, please?”

The Witch laughed. “What do you think?”

“Yes?”

Suddenly Goran dropped to his knees and grabbed his head. “No, no, no,” he began screaming over and over again.

“What’s going on?” Tryps cried out. “She’s hurting him, Gerhmaine.”

There was real concern in Tryp’s voice. Despite the narcissistic act, it was evident he cared about the well-being of his friend.

“I said she wouldn’t hurt him physically and she’s not,” Gerhmaine said.

“Then what the hell is she doing?” Tryps cried out. “Get her off of him or I’ll choke her out myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gerhmaine said. “You can’t choke a phantom. And no, I will not help him. This is all part of this exercise.”

Jocelyn felt the same as Tryps did. She wanted to rush over to Goran and drag him away from the Witch.

Just as she was about to act, Goran let go of his head and buried it deep into the crooks of his arms. He was sobbing uncontrollably.

Tryps was the first to his side. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Goran didn’t reply. His back shuddered as his sobbing continued. Tryps sat down next to Goran and rested a hand on his back.

“Don’t…” Goran began.

“Hey, it’s alright man. It’s alright.”

Goran looked up with his red eyes. Dromedian-sized tears fell down the leathery patches of his face. “It’s not alright,” he said. “You’re all seeing me cry.”

Tryps chuckled. “Buddy, I’ve seen you cry plenty of times before. You cried the other day because something you smelled reminded you of home.”

Goran groaned. “You saw that?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright man. I miss home too.”

Goran didn’t reply. Instead he shook his head, and buried it into his arms once again. “You don’t care. None of you do. You all look down on me. You think of me as a lesser person, even though I try to be nice.”

“What do you mean, buddy?” Tryps asked. “We’re never mean to you.”

“No,” Goran said. “But you’re not nice to me either. I feel like I’m just someone in the background. If I faded away completely and remained invisible, none of you would even notice.”

“That’s not true. Of course we’d notice.”

“No,” Goran said. “You wouldn’t. Last week, I decided to spend an entire day invisible, just to see if anyone would care that I was gone. None of you did. Not even Gerhmaine, who is quick to dish out consequence for anyone who doesn’t show up on time. Even you, Tryps, my so called ‘buddy’ didn’t notice that I was missing.”

“You were missing from a class?” Gerhmaine asked.

Tryps glared at his teacher. “Not now.”

Gerhmaine rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

“Goran…” Tryps began, but was quickly cut off.

“I can take a hint. None of you care about me. Whether I live or die, it wouldn’t matter. I’d just be another nameless face passing on by. When I saw the new girl, Jocelyn, I was happy.” He looked at her. “I spotted the loneliness right away and I thought to myself, for sure she’d want a friend. Two lonely people, taken away from everything they’ve ever known; there’s no way we wouldn’t be friends.”

Jocelyn felt her stomach turn.

“And then every time I tried to talk to her, she brushed me away like I was some insect buzzing around her head. So much for hoping. Look at me now. I’m pathetic. My dad would slap me in the teeth if he saw what I’ve become.”

He was right; Jocelyn was mean to him. In the beginning, she had tried to run away from everyone instead of putting an effort to communicate.

Jocelyn approached Goran who looked at her with sad, puppy dog eyes. “Goran, I’m sorry. I brushed you off not because I didn’t like you or I didn’t care about you,” she began. She needed to choose her next words carefully. “I was afraid of you.”

Epic failure.

“Because I’m a monster?” Goran sank deeper into his sea of misery.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tryps asked.

“Wait, here me out,” Jocelyn began. “I was afraid of all of you.” She pointed to Faria. “I was afraid of Faria because she wanted to cut me. It’s only after I spent time shoveling shit with her that I realized she wasn’t the knife-wielding maniac I thought her to be.”

She turned to Tryps. “And you wanted to lick me, which is just gross and repulsive. But now, seeing you rush to Goran’s aid tells me that this entire ‘I’m a dick’ demeanor is just an act.”

Tryps shook his head. “It’s not an act. I really am a dick.”

“Shut up,” Jocelyn continued. “And Kema, on our first meeting, she grabbed my hand and refused to let me go. Back on Earth, that’s considered creepy.”

“It’s creepy where I come from as well,” Faria pointed out.

Kema pursed her lips. “I just wanted to see what was inside of you.”

“Yup, creepy she was, and creepy she still is,” Faria said.

“I lived my life trusting people. That was until—” Jocelyn paused, and then looked away. There was a moment of silence as she gathered herself. “I trust people very little these days. I wanted to know I was safe around all of you.”

“And do you feel safe?” Goran asked.

“Yes, I do now. I was afraid of you at first because I thought you’d be just as crazy as everyone else,” Jocelyn said. “Not because I thought you was a monster.”

“Screw it, let’s tell it as it is,” Tryps announced. “We’re all monsters here. I am; Goran is, as is Kema, Faria, Wynter, and Cecelia—if she ever wakes up again.”

“Cecelia will attend the next class,” Gerhmaine said. “Listen, this was all very touching but there’s the matter of the Witch here, who’s still not bound to the lantern.”

“What did she do to you, Goran?” Tryps asked, as he lifted him to his feet.

Goran wiped the wetness away from his cheeks with the back of his hand. “She got into my head. She said things that made me question the value of my life.” His eyes briefly locked onto the Witch’s, before turning away.

Jocelyn could tell he was frightened of her.

“For the most part, souls tend to remain silent,” Gerhmaine pointed out. “Witches, however, like to raise as much hell as possible.” He turned to the others. “Now, who wants to try next?”

Tryps took a brave step forward. “I’ll take on this bitch,” he said as he rolled up his sleeves. “When I’m through with her, she’ll wish she were dead all over again.”

Three minutes later Tryps was lying in the sand next to Goran, huddled in a fetal position.

“It’s okay,” Goran reassured him.

“It’s not that small…” Tryps said quietly.

“Right,” Gerhmaine said as he sat on the edge of the stone altar. “I knew this challenge was one none of you were ready for.”

The Witch gave him a smug look. She had bested them.

“I won’t lie to you class. I have tried and so has Octava. We both failed to bind her into the Gaoler’s Lantern.”

“If the two of you couldn’t do it, why did you think we’d be able to?” Faria asked.

Gerhmaine shrugged. “The quickest way for one to learn about wolves is to toss them into the heart of their den.”

“Remind me to skip lessons involving dangerous beasts,” Faria muttered.

“I thought perhaps one of you would completely boggle my mind. My mind hasn’t been boggled in a long time.”

The Witch turned her attention to Jocelyn. She smirked.

“Well, if no one wants to have a crack at it, I’ll send her back into the ocean and bring up a weaker phantom; perhaps an unscrupulous thief or something. That’s more on your level.”

The world that came out of Jocelyn's mouth next even suprised her. “I’ll try.”