At our next class, the Phantom was still there. When I entered the classroom, its eyes followed me from the door to my seat next to Poppy. Then, they lingered on me. It felt like the thing could sense I was different, and I hated it.

Nike strode into the room. The flowers in her pockets today were a dark, somber blue. Her hands trailed on her desk as she passed, and then she propped herself up on it, legs crossed. The room was silent. I saw most of the others looking at the Phantom, though it’s eyes remained on me. A few students seemed to be looking anywhere but at the monster.

Nike had opened the class, talking for a bit about elemental use and such. But then she trailed off. She paused, before picking up again. 

“The heart,” Nike said softly. “The only way to destroy a Phantom.”

Her arms crossed and her fingers tapped on her elbow. Her eyes trailed over all of us. They seemed to linger on me, like the Phantom’s. I swallowed. Was she suspicious, because of the Phantom? I hadn’t used my Constellation at all.

“We know Phantoms are created from tragedy,” she continued. “So what created this one?”

She pushed off the desk. She circled the cage, but her eyes remained on us. 

“There once was a family of three,” she began. “A father, a mother, and a daughter. They lived in a small apartment, on the edge of town. Kids liked to play around the building. And one day, someone brought fireworks. Which was fun and exciting, especially for a bunch of kids who had nothing to do and no money. But fireworks? All you need is a fifty-cent lighter. 

“So the kids set them off. And it was glorious. One of the coolest things they’d ever done. But there were no adults, no one there to remind them to stay away from the building. And when they set the last one off, it swerved and hit the apartment complex.”

She paused for a moment and the air felt heavy.

“A fire broke out. Most people got out quickly, but the flames quickly blocked the family’s apartment. The mother and daughter were trapped. The father came home and, ignoring everyone around him, ran inside for his family. They all died,” Nike finished.

She didn’t seem unfazed, but more resigned to the story’s finale. I guess as an Astral fighting Phantoms, you come across these sorts of things often. Didn’t make it any less depressing though.

“So where’s the heart?” Nike asked.

I looked at the Phantom. As his grotesque skin. The moving eyes. I forced myself not to look away. Last class, the boy, Nilo—he’d guessed where hearts normally were. And Poppy, she’d guessed in the brain. Both were wrong. Nike had told us the story of what created this Phantom before she asked us again. So it all had to be connected.

In the cage, suddenly the Phantom thrashed. His body seized and then shook—no, vibrated—faster than what seemed humanly possible. But the Phantom was no human. He shook his head back and forth and his hands seemed to—

His hands. Clutched in one hand, the Phantom held a stuffed animal—a bunny rabbit—by the ears. The bunny was almost normal, except for a few burn marks. What had Nike said? The man went back in for his family—for his daughter.

I tentatively raised my hand. Nike nodded at me.

“The stuffed animal. It’s the heart,” I said.

She gave me a soft smile.

“Correct. We think the father picked up the bunny for his daughter while looking for her. Phantoms are a dark parody of humanity. Their ‘heart’ will always be connected to the tragedy.” Nike paused. “Clever of you to put it together, Aris.”

I swallowed. I didn’t feel clever. I could only think of how sad Phantoms were. A single, tragic emotion remaining forever. In a way, the father would always be looking for his little girl.

It made me think of my own family. Of my own, dead parents. In my own way, maybe I was also still looking for them. My bottom lip shook for a moment—and then I pulled myself together. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.

As I stood up to pack for the day, the Phantom’s rattling grew. It began to groan and make this raspy, crying sound. The cage began to shake violently.

“Oh boy,” Nike said under her breath. She turned to face the cage and held her hand out, wind gathering in her palm.

The Phantom twisted from left to right, his chest heaving. His left arm pulsed and grew larger, like a water balloon filling up. The restraints strained.

“All of you, get back!” Nike ordered. 

I stood up. Next to me, Poppy was frozen. I pulled her to her feet next to me.

The restraint broke. With one arm, the Phantom split the cage in two, sending half of it flying towards Nike. It hit her hard and Nike fell to the ground, unconscious. 

With a twisted grin, the Phantom turned to us.