Page 7 of Two Who Live On

“Branch magics.” Tara dropped her head slightly, hiding behind her long blonde hair.

“These devices will allow the academy to record your improvements so we can properly rank students and see who among you will participate in the Spring Showcase. It’s not as important to place your first year, but for second year students, it can be make or break when it comes to internships. Consider this your one practice run. If you don’t place this year, you don’t get to practice, so take this time you have to train seriously. Any and every opportunity.”

Except it was make or break in some cases. These kids needed every edge they could get to stand out by the time they reached their second year where they’d compete for internships against every witch at every academy across the state. Each young witch held the same dreams they all held, and as much as I wanted to guarantee their hard work would pay off, life had a tendency of proving me wrong.

“Place?” Caleb asked with a shaky voice.

“Only the top 160 first-year students will be considered. We don’t have the time or resources to present an event for every single first year.” Well, we did, but administration wouldn’t consider committing that much when the Spring Showcase for the first-year students didn’t bring in a quarter of the revenue the second-year showcase did.

“There are 600 first-year students. Without considering the variables on how we’re ranked, those numbers give me a .0016 percent chance of placing.” Caleb scribbled numbers and variables,all of which floated about his surface thoughts like an insufferable mathematical jigsaw puzzle. “Depending on the specifics for evaluating, that could increase my likelihood or massively decrease my chances.”

I silenced his mental ramblings because the stats and figures hurt my head. “This is about more than the Spring Showcase, though. These will also help specify exactly which areas of magic you need the most assistance with.”

There was a lot of truth to that. While I wasn’t a fan of these devices or the fact my twelve homeroom coven students held tech in their hands that, when added together, cost more than twice my yearly salary, I did like this would provide in-depth data on their magical output, where they struggled, and help isolate and pinpoint ways for improvement.

“Can we backtrack to what you mean by ranking us?” Katherine raised a hand, asking her question before I’d even responded to the gesture. “I thought the purpose of academies opening their doors was to move away from those outdated practices. Hence why the entrance exam was tossed because it’s archaic and does little to truly evaluate all forms of magic or success in this very diverse industry.”

She made a lot of valid points, but they were directed toward licensing in general, which wasn’t the purpose of these rankings or Gemini’s reasoning for implementing them.

Kenzo huffed. “Shut up, know-it-all.”

My breath hitched, fighting the piercing strike of aggression.

“You bring up some great points, Katherine.” I cleared my throat, ignoring the profanities leaping from Kenzo’s thoughts and the mutterings under his breath. “But these rankings are important to the guilds who wish to sponsor interns. They often won’t commit to such intensive training and fieldwork experience without having some assurances on skill sets prior to signing you.”

“So you’re telling me if there was a guild looking for an intern with an enchantment magic like mine, they might pass because of my ranking?”

“Possibly. Some guilds and enchanters won’t consider any applicants below a particular ranking,” I said, almost immediately regretting my choice of words as fear funneled from students. I squeezed the bridge of my nose, burying the burst of thoughts before they reached me. “It’s also possible some won’t consider rankings at all,” I said, attempting to calm their minds. “Many guilds are looking to highlight unique magics they currently don’t have. There’s no set rule on how the industry works. It’s all very subjective.”

“Subjective?” Katherine crossed her arms and pouted. “That’s a terrible system.”

Agreed, but the industry wasn’t changing anytime soon. All I could do was prepare them to navigate the one we had.

“Obviously, they have to have some type of evaluation in place.” Kenzo glared. “Otherwise, guilds wouldn’t know our capabilities, and they’d hire any idiot loser off the street just because they wanted it.”

Kenzo’s gaze shifted to Caleb, who shrank in his seat. While aggressively rude for no reason other than to assert his dominance in the room, he wasn’t incorrect.

“Ranking us based on our branch magics… How much of that score will be based on our branch alone? Will I have the same evaluation? Will they omit that score because I don’t have a branch, or am I just going to lose the points?” Caleb continued sinking further into his seat, dwelling on questions to things I still didn’t have answers for.

I paused. A whirlpool of doubt circled Caleb, filled with thousands of words wailing how he’d never be good enough, picked the wrong path, wasn’t special or chosen or meant for anything greatbecause he was just another average branchless dud. I cracked my neck, quelling my telepathy before he dragged me into the depths of his worry, when suddenly, he shot up in his seat.

“If I’m already starting in the negative because I’m branchless, then that just means I’ll have to make sure I score above everyone else in every other area.” Caleb straightened his posture and raised a hand.

“Yes?” I said, resisting smiling back at Caleb as his determination swelled and a smile filled his face.

“What other areas will our rankings be based on?” he asked, reaching for his notebook and prepared to take a thousand notes to bury the doubts and voices and memories that said he’d never be good enough for the guild industry.

“Everything from academics to personality,” I said. “It’s something we’ll focus on as the semester progresses.”

“Please, they’ve been evaluating us since we stepped through the front doors.”

I ignored Kenzo again, but again, he wasn’t wrong. The kid rarely was. “For today, let’s just make sure you’ve all got your Cast-8-Watch synced up and working.”

These rankings wouldn’t affect chances of obtaining a license or internship—that was an academy guarantee. But poor rankings would limit their options, preventing certain pathways, and I wanted them to walk away from Gemini with every possible opportunity, not just the basic academy guarantee.

“Guilds expect the best of the best, and I’ll show them I am the best!” Caleb hyper-fixated on the directions, reading each step closely while jotting notes in preparation for his many what-if thoughts bouncing about. “If Enchanter Evergreen can master the rankings, I’ll just have to do even better.”

Not that the ranking systems for guilds were identical to GeminiAcademy’s, but they were cut from the same cloth. Guilds had more functionality with their system whereas academies had more fluidity. Ranking witches under close scrutiny by evaluating their every movement was something these kids would never escape if they pursued professional casting. Milo’s continued high ranking as a guild witch wasn’t anywhere near Caleb’s situation, yet he clung to the comparison.

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