“Does salt not exist on this miserable planet?” Tryps asked as he ingested a spoonful of his morning stew, just before taking his seat next to Faria.

“Must you sit here?” Faria asked, annoyed.

Kema, who was sitting opposite of Tryps, didn’t hide the displeasure on her face either, though she did manage to remain silent.

Jocelyn sat quietly at the far end of the table, stirring her bowl of bland grey porridge. She didn’t have much of an appetite this morning.

“Yes, I do need to sit here,” Tryps replied.

“Why?”

“Because,” he said as he shoveled another scoop of porridge into his mouth, “I like the way you smell.”

Faria grimaced. “You’re a disgusting individual. Do you know that?”

“Dirty talk isn’t going to get you anywhere with me,” Tryps smiled. He pushed away his bowl of food. “Man, this is awful.”

Gerhmaine, who was sitting over at the next table, put his spoon down and turned to Tryps.

“Be appreciative of having a steady stream of sustenance in your body,” he stated. “During my travels, there was a stretch of fifteen moons where I ate tree bark every day.”

“That sounds gross,” Goran said as he strolled over from the kitchen, cradling a bowl of stew in his arm. He took a seat next to Jocelyn. “Good morning,” he greeted her.

Jocelyn gave Goran a curt nod. She wasn’t in the mood to converse with anyone this morning.

“It’s not gross. Tree bark is good fiber,” Gerhmaine said as he placed another heaping spoonful into his mouth. “And don’t complain about the food here, Tryps. All the nutrition we’ll ever need is in this singular bowl.”

Tryps lifted up his spoon and raised it to his eye level. “Are rocks a part of our nutritional diet as well?”

Gerhmaine raised a brow. “Hmmm?”

“Rocks,” Tryps repeated as he used his finger to pick out a singular stone the size of pea off his spoon. “There’s a damn rock in my stew.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Faria said as she lifted her spoon filled with muck, tilted it, and allowed the contents to fall back into the bowl. “Yesterday I found something slithering in my bowl. I could have sworn it was someone’s tongue.” She glanced at Tryps. “Too bad it wasn’t yours.”

Tryps dumped the rock into her bowl.

“I was eating that, you little shit.”

Tryps rolled his eyes. “Were you really?”

“Well no, but still. Now you’ve eliminated that choice for me. I like having a choice.”

“You can still eat your food. Just pick the stone out of your stew.”

Faria shook her head. “It’s contaminated now.”

“By a rock?”

“No, by the saliva from your spoon which so happened to touch the rock.”

Tryps leaned in closer. “Some ladies would say it’s been blessed.”

“Go bless an Ysomara’s asshole then,” Faria snapped as she pushed her bowl forward.

“Moody girl, aren’t you?” Tryps muttered.

Gerhmaine downed the last bit of his stew, rose from his seat, and let out a long sigh. “I’m going to prepare for your lessons. I trust the lot of you can make it through breakfast without murdering each other while I’m not here?”

“We’ll see,” Tryps said, wincing as he took down another spoonful. He waited until Gerhmaine was out of earshot, before he finally spoke again. “So who else heard the screaming again last night?”

Jocelyn set down her spoon. “Screaming?” she asked. Could it have been her while she had one of her nightmares?

Stolen story; please report.

He nodded. “Every other night, it’s always the same. You hear the faint sound of screaming echoing through the hollows of these paper-thin walls.”

It wasn’t her then.

“Last night was particularly bad,” Goran said. “It really sounded like someone was getting hurt.”

“It could be the other students.” Tryps suggested.

“There are other students here besides us?” Jocelyn asked.

“We think so,” Goran whispered. “The ones that are locked away and tortured. You know, for failing at their lessons.”

Faria rolled her eyes. “There’s no proof to any of that. Those are just stories.”

“How do you explain the late night screaming then?” Goran asked. “I bet you there’s a dungeon hidden away deep below in the basement.”

“There’s not even a basement to this place,” Faria pointed out.

“Not one that’s been found as of yet,” Tryps said. He turned to Kema. “You’ve been here the longest. Maybe you know something we don’t.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I know just as much as you,” she replied. “Though, I usually don’t wish to participate in gossip, I do admit, the sounds at night are rather unsettling. I’m curious to know what it is.”

“Do you think a basement full of tortured students is a possibility?” Goran asked wide-eyed.

“Perhaps,” Kema said. “There are those who have started studying magic the same time as I, who have inexplicably disappeared. Another rumor which has floated around for a while was that the Asrai were converting students into Virgos.”

Jocelyn shivered at the memory of those terrifying, yet beautiful, winged creatures that graced the sky during the invasion of Behyru.

“What do you think, girl?” Tryps asked, as his eyes fell onto Jocelyn.

“You’re asking me?” Jocelyn asked. “I just got here.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have an opinion,” Tryps said. “Surely you must have heard the noise as well last night.”

“I’m a sound sleeper,” Jocelyn lied. In truth, she was too busy suffering through her dreams to have heard any type of screaming.

“You know, there’s one way to get an answer,” Tryps said. He tilted his head towards Kema. “All we need is for the mind reader over here to touch Gerhmaine.”

Kema frowned.

“What do you say? Give that bearded fool a big, giant hug and then give us the answers we’re looking for.”

“You make the assumption I haven’t tried before.”

“And?” Tryps asked.

“He is immune to my magic,” Kema said. “When I touch him, I see nothing but smoke and fog.”

“Or your so called ability is nothing more than horseshit,” Tryps said. “Maybe that’s why you’re the longest serving student here. You don’t have anything to offer the Asrai, thus they keep holding you back.”

“By your logic, I should be in the basement, getting tortured then,” Kema suggested.

Tryps grinned. “Perhaps it’s only a matter of time.”

Suddenly Kema reached out and grabbed one of his hands. She moved with the quickness of a bullet flying out of the barrel of a gun.

“Let go,” Tryps said, struggling to break free from her grip. Jocelyn remembered Kema’s hold well. Once it was locked in, there was not prying away from it.

“Don’t try your garbage on me,” Tryps hissed. Though his words were meant to be menacing, Jocelyn could hear fear in his voice.

Finally, Kema released her grip and smiled.

“Your male appendage is abnormally small, compared to the average size of the rest of your species,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? Now I know you don’t have any magic abilities,” he laughed, nervously. “I mean come on, look at me.”

“Whatever you say.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Kema’s eye as she spoke.

“Back to the hidden basement,” Tryps changed the subject abruptly.

Faria grinned as she rested her elbows on the table. “Big prick, tiny dick,” she whispered.

Tryps ignored her. “I think it’s in all of our best interest to find out the truth about the screaming at night. I asked Gerhmaine the second day I got here and he brushed me off with a stupid answer, some nonsense about the wind blowing through the cracks of the old house.”

All eyes at the table fell onto Wynter as he entered into the dining hall. His hair was a mess and he looked groggy, as if he were forced to wake while in the midst of dreaming.

“And the freak finally shows up,” Tryps muttered.

“You’re such a nice person,” Jocelyn said sarcastically.

“I do my best.”

Jocelyn watched as Wynter walked up to the kitchen window, grabbed a bowl of stew, and sniffed it.

He held the bottom of the bowl by the tips of his fingers, examined it like it was some foreign object, shrugged, and then brought it to his lips. He downed all of its contents in one long, continuous gulp.

“I don’t suppose he’d like to sit down with us?” Jocelyn asked.

Goran shook his head. “He likes to keep to himself mostly.”

Kema’s eyes narrowed. “He’s another one I can’t read at all. I held his hand once, and he stared at me with these wondrously affectionate eyes. It was the strangest thing.”

“Look, we’ve all established that you have no given ability for magic, Kema,” Tryps said.

“Big prick, little dick,” Faria repeated.

“Shut it.”

“Grow a pair,” she responded.

Jocelyn ignored them and watched as Wynter tossed the bowl through the kitchen window and then sauntered off with his hands in his pockets.

“Good morning,” Goran announced, doing his best to be friendly. Wynter ignored him. The Dromedian sighed. “Sometimes, a little niceness goes a long way…”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Tryps said. “So, are we all in agreement? We try and figure out where the screams are coming from?”

Faria shook her head and rose from the table. “Too busy.”

Kema was the next to stand. “I’ve tried already. It’s a fool’s game. Now come, class is about to begin and Gerhmaine hates it when we’re late.”

Tryps frowned. “Bunch of pansies.” He turned to Goran. “You’re in, aren’t you?”

Goran went invisible. “Sorry. I’m a pansy.”

That left only Jocelyn.

“Well?” Tryps said. “I guess us newbies have to stick together.”

Jocelyn sighed. “I simply don’t like you.” She rose from the table and walked away, leaving Tryps alone.

As she made her way out of the dining hall, she heard Tryps calling out to her.

“You’ll all come to regret this when we all get murdered.”

Perhaps he was right. Maybe when that last drop of her blood fell to the floor because Jocelyn hadn’t listened to him, she’d come to regret it. Her entire life seemed like one long episode of constant regret, not to mention suffering.