Unlike the morning, Mena ate her dinner as slow as possible. She chomped and chewed her carrots and roast-beast, savoring every bite for what could be the last time. Caligari was already in a foul mood from class, and if Mena knew one thing about phantoms, it’s that they always held a grudge. But at last, the dinner was finished, students headed up to their dormitory and she was unable to come back for seconds or thirds. Realizing her time had come, Mena dragged herself down to Caligari’s dungeon.

Embers of blue fire offered the only warmth in the classroom. They reached out from the torches but did little to warm Mena’s skin. The arena had been removed and replaced with a sullen phantom professor sitting at the dead center of the dungeon. Mena could not even discern if she was sleeping or deep in thought. Mena managed a slightly peep and she was silenced with a swift remark of dismissal. “I’m ready professor.”

“Willow,” Caligari said coolly. “Judging by the stain on your shirt and the food on your face, you’re anything but ready.”

“But professor,” Mena muttered laughing nervously. “I’m here, aren’t I.”

“You’re present,” Caligari said. “But your mind is miles away. Hypnotized by this trivial play; I’m sure you never even think about the fate of millions, or how the planet on which you were born is currently spiraling in a dark void with everyone doomed to relive their worst nightmares and dreams.”

Mena gave a squeak of shock. Caligari was coming at her with barbs sharper than daggers tonight. Had the failure of magical dueling really gotten to her, or was there a deeper issue afoot?

Caligari rose to her feet, refusing to make eye contact with the young witch. “Let us finish this quick and swift,” she said, nodding and causing her bobbed hair to shuffle. “so you can get out of my sight, Willow.”

Mena winced; she was used to this teacher being tempestuous and cranky, but she was being as cold as a freshly fallen sheet of snow.

Caligari held out her hand, and a rainbow iris appeared in it. “Your minds eye is one of the most important parts of your soul—for that is where your deepest dreams lie. Unfortunately, from your extreme carelessness, you created another being who shares that mind’s eye with you.”

Mena cringed at the barb but continued to listen intently. Caligari, showing no remorse over her words continued, “We must work to close that mind’s eye to the interloper. For she could be watching at this very moment.”

Mena shivered; even the subtemperate coldness of the dungeon and Caligari’s veneer did not match the feeling of the evil Taylor-Witch obsessed fangirl peering through her soul.

“What do we do about it?” Mena asked.

Caligari held out her hand and a book flew off her desk. It was a dusky tome inscribed with an unknown, presumably ancient language. There was a bowl of some sort of swirling dessert accompanying the archaic lettering.

“You’re lucky the headmaster was thinking ahead,” Caligari said coldly. “Like he always is.”

“What is that?” Mena asked.

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“I wouldn’t expect you to be able to read that,” Caligari jeered. “But since you asked, it’s an ancient book from the Monkey Monks of the Mind Mountains—the Almighty Book of Yogi Yoga—it also doubles as a yogurt recipe book.

“Whoa,” Mena gasped. “Sounds spiritual. I’ve always been a bit lacking in the soul department. “

“That you have, “Caligari muttered, rolling her eyes.”

Caligari held her hand to her head, envisioning an object with her imagicnation. “Magic, teleport me a yoga mat for this brat.”

Mena winced again as a bright pink foam mat appeared on the dungeon floor. “Now I want you to follow the rules in this book very carefully,” Caligari said, shuffling the pages of the book. “Their monkey minds are much more advanced than yours so it will take every bit of your concentration to perform one of their yoga poses.”

Mena wasn’t sure if Caligari’s insinuations that her brain wasn’t as advanced as a simian was another unneeded jab, but she reluctantly laid down on the mat. She was thankful her phantom professor at least poofed a mat for her. She did not want to get some serious toe fungus from the filthy dungeon floor. Caligari flicked to the page that she was looking for.

“First,” Caligari said her green eyes scanning the page. “We will do a zin pose that is supposed to cleanse your mind. It is essential in removing vapid teenage thoughts from your head will help you master the seven Primate Poses. Once you achieve zinfinity, your mind’s eye will close at your will.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Mena said, leaning back and stretching her sticklike arms. “I’ve always wanted to do yoga and get more in tune with my soul. I hear pilates are good for that.”

“That’s not how it works,” Caligari said, rolling her eyes. “First, we will do the Double Flea Scratcher position.”

Mena was still stretching but upon seeing what the Double Flea Scratcher entailed, she stretched too far and her bones made a sickening click.

“Whaaaa?” Mena exclaimed.

The diagram showed a monkey monk with both his legs behind his head and his knuckles on the ground. “Do you think I’m a pretzel?” Mena shouted in protest.

“So, are you telling me you aren’t up for it?” Caligari asked, sadistically raising her unibrow.

“My arms crack when I reach too far for a pencil,” Mena cried. “Come on. Let’s do an easier one.”

Caligari smirked. “This is the easiest one.”

“Miserable magicaps,” Mena moaned and Caligari closed the book.

“As I predicted,” the professor said, “You aren’t capable of anything… except picking out boys and picking your nose. I guess, we are truly doomed.”

That was it for Mena, her pasty face turned a sharp shade of pink. “What’s gotten into you professor? You were never this mean…”

Caligari furrowed her brow.

“Never this mean to me at least,” Mena shouted. “You’ve changed. “Ae you really that distraught over Gemini?”—Mena looked away sadly—"I miss him too.”

Caligari merely shrugged her bony shoulders and closed her eyes. ”I’ve merely accepted the fact that Gemini choosing you was a mistake…a rare one in his case. You do not act like a chosen one in any way, shape or form.”

Mena grimaced. “Maybe it’s because I’m a teen who happens to be the chosen one. I can’t be Miss Super Serious twenty-four-seven. I’d lose my mind.”

Caligari crossed her arms. “You are never serious and that’s a fact.”

Mena was stunned into silence. “I wish you’d stop taking your anger out on me,” she spat. “All you ever thing about is Gemini. I’m sure you can’t function properly now that he’s gone.”

Caligari’s pale nostrils flared. Her eyes, green and catlike seared in her head. It seemed Mena had struck a nerve, but she couldn’t help but lash out more. “For a grown woman, Caligari, you sure are acting like a little girl. Now that your clown prince is gone, you’re nothing but some pouty damsel in distress”—Mena pointed her finger directly at her professor’s thin nose—"Why don’t you grow up?”

Caligari’s fists ignited in fiery lime-green ectoplasm. “It’s your fault he’s gone,” she growled with tears dripping from her eyes.

Before Mena’s mind could process what had been said, Caligari shouted. “Willow…never ask me for help again…”

The professor vanished into the shadow, leaving Mena standing alone. She was left alone to ponder. What did Caligari mean that it was her fault? As she left the room, feeling shocked and bewildered, she knew she would have to find out or her mind eye would never be safe again.