Page 42 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

Chapter Eleven

Thanks to my manifestation, I hadn’t struggled with the constant flux of my telepathy stretching far across the country. Sometimes, my magic would unravel and coil back into my head. The surge of psychic energy would rocket through my skull and rattle every bone in my body before sending a pulse of electrical snaps like a static shock over my skin. That didn’t happen much, and even when my telepathy returned, it whipped back out like a yoyo in search of Milo’s mind.

As I graded papers this evening, looking over the shitty rough drafts that screamed first-year incompetence from my second-year students’ research essays, I found myself drifting off. Charlie had wedged himself between my stomach and arm as I worked. I rested my hand on his head, rubbing the orange fluff on his face and sinking into the couch to unwind.

I needed to finish grading these essays since I still had a stack of practice FAP tests to get through, plus standard classwork I’d slacked off on grading. Oh, how quickly a few thin sheets of paper piled up into a mountain of horribly written incomplete thoughts filled with garbled talent and incoherent tangents.

I reached out to the tether that connected me to my manifestation, syncing up our perception, our memories, or dual senses. Each time I practiced, it got easier, more bearable, anatural response like something as simple as taking a breath. Yes, there was work involved, so many pieces of the mind and muscle working in tandem, but through instinct, it just sort of fell together. I needed to continue improving, finally master this telepathy, and harness all the missing pieces I’d broken off and dropped into the well of my subconscious.

Milo stayed in Benjamin Oxland’s bedroom as the kid recovered. Barely five years old and that child had endured so much loss. His entire life had been stripped away in a single day. Family. Friends. Future. All of them slaughtered and wiped from this world. New futures blossomed in Ben’s fateful threads, but Milo stalled in making a major decision on The True Witch because so much of this kid’s fate remained tangled in her horrid actions.

No, Ben’s future wasn’t actually entwined with The True Witch, but the last droplets of her magic still coursed through the boy’s body, according to the medical staff who oversaw the full recovery. I hadn’t removed every ounce of that ocean, it seemed, but perhaps that was for the best. It offered Milo a stronger link to the witch’s trail that he tried to follow. Her thinning thread from the singular interaction she’d had with Benjamin wouldn’t last much longer, but it offered Milo the best chance of tracking her down before more unsuspecting people found themselves lost under the weight of Oceanic Collapse.

The strain of carrying the weight of an ocean in his mind for almost two weeks had left Ben in a state of exhaustion. His frail frame, his ghostly complexion, his clenched jaw cracking the two loose baby teeth, and his sunken eyes with deep rings of sleep deprivation. It was as if he hadn’t slept the entire time the ocean of magic tried to crush and drown him. Even now, his warding magic worked to shield his mind. I sensed the blue barrier, frightened to let down its guard. The overworked magic seepedout in strange ways, turning Ben’s hair a faded blue like the sky on a cloudy day.

More than anything, Milo avoided a decision, a course of action to strike down The True Witch because part of him continued searching for possibilities of Ben finding a happy future. I couldn’t glean what potential outcomes lay ahead for the kid, but Milo didn’t like the idea of any of those broken horrors.

Benjamin coughed, clearing water from his throat as he’d done every time he woke up, convinced he was still drowning. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever again if The Inevitable Future had his way.

“There it is.” Milo’s eyes fluttered, everything in his mind clicking together as the visions aligned in his thoughts, helping him formulate the plan that’d eluded him this entire time. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Who are you?” Ben asked, a subtle blue glow radiating from his chest and ready to shield him entirely.

“My name’s Enchanter Evergreen.” Milo smiled, soft and friendly.

“Where’s the other guy?” Ben looked around the room.

“Enchanter Wadsworth?” Milo asked.

“No.” Ben shook his head, eyeing the nearby medical staff who tracked his vitals. “He’s not here.”

“Who?” Milo asked.

“The angry raccoon dragon guy.”

Milo snorted. “Wait. Who?”

“The raccoon guy with all the fire,” Ben explained, his thoughts opening and an image of me projected on the surface.

Only it wasn’t me. I hadn’t actually worn that much eyeliner or had fire spilling from my mouth, but in his recollection, I looked like a fucking court jester.

“Raccoon guy?”

“Cause of the rockin’ roll face.”

Milo shook his head, biting back laughter. “I see. And the dragon part?”

“He breathed fire everywhere. He murdered the water like a rockstar.”

I huffed. I didn’t spit fire anywhere. I majestically summoned it in the form of a fierce beast to remove the threat of that arcane magic. It was badass. He made me sound like some type of knockoff brand enchanter.

“I’d love to continue this discussion on the angry raccoon-faced dragon guy,” Milo said, surface thoughts shifting into memories of the gothiest phase in my youth. Images flashed before his mind with surly-faced stills of my teen years, scowling, flipping him and Finn off, practically growling when they dragged me somewhere. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to cut this short so I can fill in my team about your recovery.”

“Is the rockin’ roll face guy on the team?” Ben asked as nurses came over to check him over.

“No,” Milo said, barely able to fight back the wheezing laughter that bounced around his head as he envisioned me with a guitar and whipping my head round and round while breathing fire.

Ugh. I looked like a total tool in both their imaginations. This was the last time I ever helped someone.

---