Page 2 of The Holy Academy of Witches

“Fine, thank you.”

She clicked her tongue at me and wandered away, back into the communal living area, leaving my door wide open.

Once I had unravelled my curls and combed my fingers through them, creating the desired soft beach-wave effect I wanted, I dressed in my school uniform - a black top with an embroidered lace collar (mine with black roses) and a mid-length pleated, black silk skirt.

“Where are you going?” Gemma, one of my other room mates asked. She stood by the window unpacking her suitcase, seemingly all over the lounge.

“My mother has asked me to show around a new girl this morning,” I explained.

“Ooh! New girl?” Our third room mate, Lillian, called from her bedroom.

“Make sure you give her a warm welcome,” Dorcas cackled.

Smoothing my clothes out I left, ensuring my room was locked, and took the usual route to the Headmistress’ Office.

Our dormitory lay on the upper floor of a tall but narrow building, the old stone crumbling in places but still upholding its Gothic beauty well. Ivy crawled up one side of the building, curling round the arched windows. Each floor held up to five dormitories, a solid wooden door, spelled with a privacy charm to prevent unwanted trespassers, separated each from the main corridor and stairwell.

I left the building, passing a couple of students in the year below who quickly shrank away beneath my stare. I continued the curved path which swept through a small wooded area leading to the main building of Sancta Academia Magarum.

The Holy Academy of Witches.

Two

Sage

You’d think an enchanted carriage ride would be… well, enchanting, but somewhere between my bum falling asleep and my fingers turning blue, I decided that magical tradition was dumb and I preferred the family’s beat up Honda. Especially if it meant Theo and I were together… as twins should be. Unlike normal American colleges, the Academies were separated by gender of all things. Not sure which was more outdated, that or the carriage.

I should be grateful they found us, and I had been originally. But my relief in discovering I wasn’t clinically insane and in fact a Witch, was currently overshadowed by the separation from my twin. He was my only real friend. And despite the fact that he’d always included me, I had never picked up his way of making friends as easily as breathing. Now, I was entering an exclusive girls only Academy, left to master my apparent magic and keep all my secrets, alone.

Looking out of the window, I confirmed it was the same view of blurring trunks of tall oak trees. If my phone hadn’t died I wouldn’t be so disenchanted by the vast forest, but it had been my only entertainment for the last hour. I set aside the compass and map I had been using to mark the path from my home to campus. I was no longer entertained by the small etchings in my notebook, as the journey that might have taken less than forty minutes by car was now nearing the hour mark by carriage. It all belonged to the Academy, listed online as a ‘protected heritage site’. The whole forest was apparently warded with repellent and memory charms so anyone without magic wouldn’t be able to find the main campus. It was also why I was required to take this carriage instead of driving here with Theo and our parents. Until I passed the initiation, I would be affected by the memory charms, which sounded like a nightmare. My mind had enough issues as it was.

A Gothic steeple rose above the treeline ahead. The road bent to reveal what once must have been a monumental cathedral. The vast ruins grew larger as I approached. When it became clear that the carriage was on a crash course with the building, I began banging on the roof and walls. It was hopeless, there was no driver to warn. It was going to….

The abandoned church was gone. An iron wrought fence was closing silently behind and what I saw ahead made me forget, momentarily, every single trial I’d faced to make it here.

Stone arches and spires littered the horizon. Each building several stories tall with large Gothic windows, some still paned with stained glass. The spots of colour winked like stars against the aged stone. The carriage carried me right up to the grand entrance of the main building, before shaking off my borrowed bags like an untrained dog. I followed the instructions I’d been given by the Academy’s representative, tapping on the golden rune of each enchanted chest, while willing them to follow. The rune sparked gold as a bit of my magic was accepted, they hovered behind me obediently as I made my way inside.

A soaring ceiling stretched far above me, its criss-crossing arches spanning from white to grey like a cloud-filled sky. Balconies supported a patchwork of nooks and offices, the alcoves exposing the arched windows which gilded the space. The stonework brighter than the exterior, reassured me that while the campus was old it would not be allowed to be anything but perfection. And perfection it was.

Reaching for my acceptance letter in my jeans’ back pocket, I found the map detailing where the Headmistress’ office was. I made sure I was headed in the right direction before slowing my walk to enjoy the archaic beauty that was practically non-existent in the States. As I took in the ancient space, it made a little more sense as to how the old-fashioned cultures persisted, werenurturedeven.

Every inch of this place was dripping with wealth. Gilded frames, self-tending planters, and - touching the floors with my bare hands - I confirmed my suspicions, the floors were self-heated. Resuming my walk, I looked at the tile from the corner of my eye. I found no glimmer of magic, must be regular, or “mundane” technology. Good to know they’d accept some technological advancements… Now to get them to enchant a carriage with heated seats and a television as well.

Taking the final turn from the map, I was confronted by an old wooden door with a small iron window, a brass knocker set in the middle. A gold plate engraved with the name ‘Headmistress Alva’ sat below the window. I saw no secretary, no waiting area… only the knocker. Timidly tapping it against the iron window’s frame, a scrawling gold font appeared below the nameplate. Bright against the dark grain of the door, it read:‘Miss Sage Williams, please enter’.

The door swung open seamlessly to reveal a minimalist office with clean lines and reflective surfaces. The glass-topped desk and three matching high-backed chairs took up most of the space. It was jarring to unexpectedly enter a pocket of the modern era. The built-in bookshelf walls were the only sign we were still in a Gothic structure, but each book was identical in colour and height. The titles wiped from their spines, as if that alone was too much diversity.

The headmistress and a miniature version of herself, probably a daughter, emerged from a concealed door to my right. The bookshelf clicked shut behind them, blending into its neighbour. Synchronised, they walked to their perspective chairs before pausing. The headmistress raised one eyebrow before gesturing to the other seat across from her. I stumbled, on my own feet apparently, before throwing myself into the chair. She and her daughter sat at the same time.

Looking to my right, I found myself torn between mimicking her posture or slouching as to prevent my inevitable towering over her. Despite her small stature, I was immediately intimidated by her faultless poise. Her pristine application of cosmetics only served to accentuate her polished appearance. Her uniform was exquisite, the all black shirt and skirt a much finer make than my own. Looking closer, I saw her white collar and shirt were ornately embroidered with matching thread. My scrutiny had not gone unnoticed and meeting her eyes was difficult, the fear of comparison already sending a tremor to my hands. Her eyes were the forest. A green so vibrant it sent a shock straight to my heart. Breaking eye contact, I made a mental note to learn how to embroider and faced forward.

The headmistress’s smile was thin, displeased perhaps that my first instinct was to look anywhere other than her. She was stunning as well. Perhaps I’d been wrong to call her daughter a miniature version of her. The mother was instead her daughter’s reflection, no less perfect, but cold, calculating. Sheepishly, I smiled, trying to de-escalate the situation. Wary of their ability to dishearten me so quickly.

“Thank you for taking the time to arrive early. I thought it best you get an independent tour, as it might be embarrassing for you to attend the one scheduled for the first years.”

“Yes Headmistress, I appreciate that.”

“You have received no previous magical instruction, is that correct?”

---