Way of The Wand
Chapter 42

Baking.

Not an art Jira was particularly good at, but her students had insisted she baked them a cake to celebrate.

What they were celebrating exactly, Jira wasn’t sure. Tomi had said they were celebrating the fact that Jira declared her ready, but Jira suspected it had more to do with their hunger after all that running and fighting.

Jira poured her mix of ingredients into a bowl, peeped at the open cook book on the kitchen slab and read the directions for making a “coconut cake.”

“I can’t believe you emotionally blackmailed me into hosting this impromptu party.” Tomi, who was setting out the dishes with Timi’s help, chortled. She moved closer to Jira and reached out to collect the bowl of slop.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jira asked pulling the bowl away from Tomi.

“I was thinking you should leave the baking to me and Timi while you go get the coconut juice.”

Jira dropped the bowl on her kitchen counter. “No need, I’ve got it.”

Timi spoke up then. “No offense Jira—” He strode to his sister. “—But your cakes taste even worse than your potions.”

Jira gasped, feigning hurt and disappointment. “Wow you kids are really doing wonders for my self-esteem.”

She cleaned her hands and handed the bowl to Timi. “Have at it then. Knock yourselves out.”

Outside the kitchen, the dining and living rooms came into view, bustling with activity.

Jira folded her arms and smiled at the chaos of students running around hanging decorations.

They loved this part of school, the times they could kickback, hangout and just have fun.

Lila was at the center of it all, directing where to drag and reposition the furniture. She even had them move the dining table to the living room, so that they could all gather round and eat there.

Jira turned away and went to her room to fetch the jar of coconut juice. She had some palm wine in there too, but there was no chance she would let them have a taste of that.

It took two hours to conclude all the preparations, and when they finally gathered around the dining table, to eat, an unexpected knock on the door held them back.

“I’ll get it,” Lila volunteered, not trusting anyone else to get up without messing up the sitting arrangement.

Lila jogged away, carrying a lingering smile with her. She opened the door and her face went blanched.

“Jira,” she called out in a crooked voice filled with dread.

The raw horror in Lila’s voice made Jira fly from her seat. One step towards the door revealed the reason.

Daila was here.

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