The only reason I dragged myself out of bed for school every morning was the dream of becoming a Beautiful Witch—a mysterious, wise witch, with the kind of cosmic powers that made you go "wow" instead of "why.” 

I pictured myself reading tarot cards with a flair, and reading stars like a celestial diary. And now, here I was, standing on the dock before the ship to Hollowmere Island—my last, one-week step toward that dream. But of course, Mom was determined to capture every mortifying second.

"Just one more, sweetie. Smile like you mean it," Mom said, fiddling with her phone’s camera, oblivious to my growing horror. She didn't mind that she was holding her phone at an angle that made my chin look like it had just found a second career.

"Mom, people are watching," I muttered through gritted teeth, trying to angle my face in case Xavier happened to walk by. Xavier—my secret Fire Witch crush who also landed a spot in Hallowmere. I gave her my best attempt at a grin—one part cringe, one part please-get-this-over-with.

“Oh, it’s perfect!” she chirped, before her phone magically changed its shade of color. “What do you think—should I caption it, ‘My adorable witch off to Hollowmere to come back all grown up?’” She waved her hand dramatically like she was filming a Hallmark movie.

"Mom, you post that, and I’ll never come back," I groaned.

"But I just hit five hundred followers," she pouted, glancing at me with an expression like I’d dashed her Oscar dreams.

"Oh, congratulations, Mom. Only took, what? Seven years? Now you cooler than me,” I said, adding a playful eye-roll.

Then, as if summoned by the gods of good timing, Sofia emerged through the throng on the dock like a girl with a mission and zero regard for subtlety. Witches parted instinctively—some out of annoyance, others out of sheer confusion—as she weaved between them with the confidence of someone who’d just pulled off something ridiculous and couldn’t wait to brag. Her windblown curls bounced with each step, her leather jacket flapping behind her like a cape. And her suitcase? I swear she’d packed her whole room in there. Mom raised an eyebrow. I just sighed. 

The Ice Witch practically vibrated with demeanor, her presence bending the air around her like heat over a flame. But despite the frost that curled in her fingertips or the snowflakes that followed her, she was Sofia. The Sofia.

"Hey, Doughnut Dragon!" she chirped, slapping me on the back. A shock of cold zipped down my spine—sharp, prickling, like an icicle had kissed my vertebrae. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished. Typical Sofia. 

Apparently, my legendary kitchen catastrophe in Mrs. Sarah’s home science class had earned me that nickname. Who knew flambéing a tray of doughnuts by accident would turn me into a culinary cryptid?

Mom’s eyes gleamed. “Perfect! Stand there together—you look adorable!” She held up her phone, and I braced myself for yet another round of public humiliation. 

Sofia paused like she was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial—Mom’s phone snapped, and the next thing I knew, I was frozen mid-blink like a confused extra in the background.

“Ooh, can you send that one to me?” Sofia squealed, lunging for Mom’s phone. 

If there was an award for BFF and Mom Bonding, these two would win it hands down. Sofia practically taught Mom everything she knew about hashtags and filters.

While they swapped filter ideas, I slipped back a step, praying I could escape before another "precious moment" was documented. 

Thank the stars, the ship gave a loud honk, summoning us like a reluctant bell.

Mom seized the opportunity to pull me in for a bear hug. I thought we were finally saying goodbye, but no. She extended her arm for another selfie.

“Mom, didn’t we agree the last one was, you know, the last one?” I asked, pleading with my eyes.

“Oh, I know, but this one’s different,” she said with that over-the-top wistfulness. “It’s our goodbye selfie.”

“Mom, it’s one week only,” I said, glancing around to make sure nobody from Reign University was close enough to see my “mother’s little witch” moment. The last thing I needed was more fuel for my reputation as the least-cool person on campus.

The ship honked louder, like it was giving us the eye roll now.

With one last hug, I grabbed my suitcase and followed Sofia up the gangplank.

The ship was impressive—a relic that looked like it had sailed out of a fairytale world. With its white sails puffed up against a violet-streaked sky, it had the air of an old soul, maybe even haunted. The wood creaked with each step as though the entire vessel was grumbling about its age. It felt like the kind of ship that might either deliver us to a magical destiny or sink on a whim.

“See you, Mom!” I called, giving her a final wave from onboard. She responded with another photo. Obviously.

The crowd—the other nominated students—was messy: a ragtag group of about sixty or so budding witches from various campuses, all trying to look cool and magical while dragging duffel bags and tripping over others clothes. 

Most of them were from Reign University, the place with the highest rankings for “young witches with questionable life choices.” And did anyone here know me? Not a chance. I was the girl who sat in the back corner with a book while everyone else mastered levitating pencils and showing off.

And of course Xavier, with his fire craft, attracting every girl. He was somewhere on board, and, as usual, Sofia wasted no time bringing him up.

She nudged me, her grin mischievous. “Did you hear?” 

“Xavier and Wendy broke up.”

“Wendy, the psycho cheerleader?” I tried to sound casual, though I was inwardly thrilled. 

Wendy who thought anyone who couldn’t stir a potion was a “failure at life.” Wendy who was obnoxiously good at everything and reminded everyone of it.

“Oh yeah. Apparently, he found her cheating with Colton,” Sofia added with a shrug, double tapping yet another post on her phone—phone-fiend—like the breaking news was no big deal.

No big deal? Colton was Xavier’s best friend. Wendy was your textbook cheerleader. And Xavier? He was the golden boy. The drama was almost too juicy to be real. I tried to act indifferent, but deep down, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder—would Xavier finally notice me now?

Sofia noticed my expression and smirked. “You know what this means, right?”

“Uh... that he’ll date someone equally annoying?” I ventured.

She rolled her eyes. “No, it means this is your chance, Doughnut Dragon,” she said, drawing out the nickname with that evil gleam that would have made me cringe if I didn’t secretly love her for it.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Oh, come on! Go talk to him.”

"Maybe accidentally set his sleeve on fire. He loves fire.”

“Yeah, because nothing says ‘date me’ like arson,” I said dryly, though a tiny part of me felt the thrill of the challenge.

“That’s the spirit!" she beamed, giving me a playful slap on the back that sent a cold sensation around me and made me stumble forward a little.

As I steadied myself, I looked out toward the sea. Hollowmare island loomed on the horizon, shrouded in mist. Dark green hills and mountains sloped toward a rugged shoreline, as though hiding secrets. Everything about it felt surreal, like something out of a dream.

As we drew closer, a chill prickled my skin. The island looked like it held both wonder and danger in equal measure, the kind of place where anything could happen—and probably would. And suddenly, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was ready.

But ready or not, we were about to dive into the unknown. And I just hoped I’d be able to handle whatever magic, mystery, or mayhem lay in wait.