Page 8 of The Holy Academy of Witches

Dorcas was already sat scrolling on her phone, knowing full well I wasn’t one for idle chat. Not with them anyway. The only person I could even be considered as being close to was sat on the other side of campus in the boys school. She sneered at something on her phone and I pulled my own from my pocket seeing a text from the man himself asking if I was “all settled in”. He’s such a grandpa.

Cillian Lynch was the closest thing I ever felt to a warm and fuzzy feeling inside this otherwise emotionless void. Our parents had been friends, our fathers colleagues, since before we were even born. Though being put in every private school together, sharing the same extra-curricular classes but Cillian being the year above, we were more like competitive siblings than friends. He was the only person I could say was close to knowing the real me… He knew all the superficial things, my favourite food, favourite music, the things that annoyed me… But the deeper things he knew of me were limited and not spoken about. He certainly didn’t know what kept me up at night… he didn’t know how much I wanted to run away and leave this life behind, how tired I was of being so bloody perfect for everyone around me.

I fired off a reply to him and sent a selfie I had taken when still in the dorm. His blue eyes stared back at me as his own popped up in reply. He was as neatly presented as I was, leaning back in his desk chair, his perfectly made bed in the background.

“Gods, that jawline. Tell him to come over and play!” Lillian said, looking over my shoulder as she placed my salad in front of me.

“Firstly, don’t look at my phone again.” Lillian’s grin dropped at my words and she picked at her plate like a scolded child, “secondly, obviously he cannot and will not come over to our school to “play” or otherwise. It’s against the rules.”

“Please, we all know you meet up, you always come back to the dorm smelling like his signature scent,” Dorcas replied.

“What’s his signature scent?” Gemma asked, giving Dorcas a weary look.

“Sex and money, obviously.”

“Who’s he shagging?” Lillian pouted looking to me.

“He does not smell like sex and money, he wears designer cologne.”

“Same difference,” Dorcas sniggered, earning an eye roll from Gemma.

“He’s not “shagging” anyone as far as I’m aware, though it’s none of our business if he was.”

“Good lord you’re such a party pooper,” Dorcas stood. “I’m going back to the dorm for a bit before the feast tonight. Are you coming, your Majesty?”

I gave her a withered look but relented nonetheless. Standing with a nod, I stepped aside allowing Gemma and Lillian to walk ahead of me. I glanced around the dining hall to see Saffron still hadn’t returned. Silva stared at me from across the room and I just gave her a look which suggested she should look away while she still had eyes to use. Dorcas did her own version which consisted of sticking her middle finger up until Silva looked away in disgust.

“Come on, ignore the trash. Let’s go back to the dorm so I can get some beauty sleep in before tonight.”

“God knows you need it,” Gemma replied.

Dorcas rolled her eyes and gave a sarcastic laugh but linked arms with her and they walked up the corridor out of the building, arm in arm, chatting away with Lillian.

Six

Sage

My eyes began to water trying to take it all in. Each building soared above us, lending shade and a perfect backdrop for the immaculate landscaping. At some point I had begun to slow the group down enough that Melody had taken Silva ahead to grab the food she so desperately needed.

When we reached the dining hall it was filled with translucent figures. Their clothing was a range of every period but each seemed to have a task they were busy with. Placing black table cloths on the varying round wooden tables, others carrying stacks of golden plates and chalices, while a few were floating to light the elaborate candelabras that dangled every few feet from the glass ceiling.

One ghostly couple seemed unbothered by the flurry of activity and were chatting in a corner. The man’s arms were filled with black tablecloths while the lady flirtatiously flapped her ghostly fan. A large matronly ghost wearing a small white cap and apron came stomping around the corner, her wide skirts flaring. She stomped up to the couple and grabbed the man’s ear. The lady grabbed the tablecloths and hurried away while the matron shouted after her.

“The Feast is not going to cook itself and every time I have to stop what I’m doing to come find one of you I go a little bit madder!”

Dragging the male ghost behind her by his ear, I heard mutters of potatoes and turnips that were in need of peeling.

“It’s impolite to stare,” Amelia said, startling me.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting…” I trailed off, unsure whether it was the ghosts themselves or their lively attitude that shocked me more.

“There’s no shame in a witch or warlock refusing to part the veil. Some question the morality of the magic we cast, the effects it might have on the soul. They choose to remain here to serve the next generation instead,” she explained.

“Oh,” I said uncertainly before continuing, “what do you believe?”

“It’s a tricky subject here. The way I see it, whether you only use constitutional magic, or dip into the dark and light magic. We all find our own path, and then live with the consequences.” She answered an enthusiastic wave from Melody, leaving me with more questions than I started with.

The rest of my room mates had joined a large line of students off to the side and I joined them silently. They picked up brown paper bags and began filling them with what must be lunch. An array of sandwiches were surrounded by large trays of finger food and salads. It was all light, portable, and easy to clean up after to ensure the hall was ready for the feast tonight. Grabbing a couple of sandwiches and a bag of cherries, I waved the group goodbye and went off to explore.

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