Page 32 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

“Simply amazing. She’s not even reading from her grimoire as she recites countless spells.”

“For an empath, her ruthlessness is…delightful.”

“His coordination with his copies is masterful.”

“The precision with each flick of the flames—quite impressive.”

“A cosmic magic like that is definitely something that’d intrigue audiences.”

“He’s the one who manipulated his vitality to save his teacher.”

“That hex branch is flawless. No wonder he held his own against warlocks.”

“Not surprising from a Smythe. Her technique is even more refined than her brothers.”

“Not sure who has a more flawless reaction time, the kid or his rooster.”

“Where’s that perfected banishment, though? I really wanted to see what the kid who faced off against a devil would unleash.”

I took notes of my own, accounting for every positive the scouts had for my homeroom students. I’d let them know, savor the happiness and pride they’d take on the compliments. But of course, I’d have to balance it out with some critiques on where they each floundered. They definitely had room to improve, and I would ensure they did.

A spike of fear drew my attention from my students.

Chanelle’s focus waned, thoughts teetering away from her meticulous observations of the scouts in attendance. Admittedly, I might’ve been skimming her surface thoughts for easy notes on the audience. I mean, these scouts would be compiling lists for their enchanters, so I needed to know who among them was even worth pursuing and who I should politely thank for an interest in an internship before rejecting them. I only wanted the best opportunities for my homeroom coven, something that tugged at Chanelle with equal ferocity—so much so that it dragged my mind toward hers as panic swept through her.

Dammit, woman. I cracked my neck, attempting to sever the easy connection we’d built over the years, but my telepathy remained glued to her mind.

“Fuck,” she muttered, nearly letting her mic catch it. Thankfully, Kenzo had sent a competitor plummeting so hard into the lava pit, all anyone caught was the rattling soundbite from nearby cameras.

Chanelle’s gaze was locked onto three of her students.

Tia signed spells to create barriers for her coven mates.

Beside her, Vik bit their lip, unsure of themself or which magic they should mimic. Their shadow cats swirled playfully in the air, silhouettes of magic at the ready to copy any spell with mastery. Mastery Vik didn’t believe they possessed at all.

They towered over Tia when standing upright, but the anxiety in their chest was so heavy that Vik hunched low, trying to hide themselves behind their coven mate. Tia was far too petite for Vik to disappear, but that was what they wanted to do. Disappear so everyone wouldn’t witness them fail again.

The last member of their coven was probably the one I knew the least about. A lanky guy with a deep amber complexion and a frazzled expression.

“Giving you all the luck in the world, try not to screw it up.” He grabbed Tia and Vik by the arm, pulsating with luminescent black light. It radiated from his palms and into his coven mates’ chests.

Tia read Emmanuel’s lips, then nodded assuredly as she used the luck he passed along to reinforce her barriers. When the luck coursed through Vik’s body, it sent a surge of confidence, allowing them to make a choice in the form of mimicking Tia’s magic. Unfortunately, Emmanuel’s legs wobbled, and he had to jump into Vik’s arms to keep from falling into the lava pit.

“So sorry,” he whined, realizing he’d sacrificed too much of his good luck and made his own fizzle out in the process.

It seemed the more luck Emmanuel provided others, the less he had himself, and vice versa. Since he could only hex others through physical contact, he couldn’t exactly pass the bad luck onto the threat of competitors that closed in on their coven.

I swallowed hard, perhaps clinging to my own guilt for Jamie Novak’s coven mates. They already struggled to properly collaborate with each other but after losing a member, they were at an extreme disadvantage in this competition.

Chanelle’s fear for her students came from the fact that Peterson’s homeroom coven swarmed around the three. All twelve stuck close together following a tactic Peterson had recommended for this game: unite as a class and dominate. It worked and they took out a few four person teams. Now, they’d found an easy target of three members who still struggled to collaborate like first-year students.

Unable to tune out the horror, I watched just like Chanelle, guilt ridden and unable to stop this tactical strategy to tear down competition.

Tia, Vik, and Emmanuel found themselves surrounded, with no defensive magic left, and bracing for the pain of being struck down into the lava pit by Peterson’s homeroom.

A spike of calculating fury drew my attention.

It turned out Peterson’s homeroom made a glaring error in assuming that Chanelle’s homeroom wasn’t collaborating. Sure, they stuck mainly to their four-person covens like everyone else, but they didn’t remain idle once Tia, Vik, and Emmanuel ended up cornered.

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