Dedicated to a true friend xx

Montana, United States of America

Every minute of Sierra Kingsley's life has been about getting here. Here as in, in front of the iron gates of Gemini Academy; where every witch dreams to study. The iron gates tower over her and as Sierra looks past the gates, the academy stands even prouder. When she looks around she's not surprised to find matching looks of awe on the faces of the nineteen-year-olds that are arriving.

As another witch repentilates beside Sierra, she jumps, startled by the sudden appearance of an Asian boy who seems occupied with brushing the apparium dust of his blazer, until he sees the academy. Absentmindedly, Sierra pats her curly, strawberry blonde locks down. She's almost tempted to scold the boy for repentilating so close to her and messing up her hair that she had spent hours trying to tame. But then she notices the mixture of surprise and awe on his face and she smiles.

Sierra doesn't need to peer into his mind to know that he's just as surprised as everyone else to find that the academy is made of glass rather than bricks that they had imagined. It resembles a glass palace rather than the castle they were expecting. After all, most of the architecture in witching communities were made from brick and magic. She had bought every book she could find on the academy just to sneak a glimpse of her future; of what would be her home for three years. Sierra had spent hours and hours slaving over the books and in the end she still hadn't seen even a single photograph of the academy.

But now as she stands before it, she is a little glad that she hadn't seen it because even if she had, no photograph could have done justice to the rows of towers and buildings that are connected by balconies and terraces.

Now she's left wondering if she's dressed appropriately for a palace. She glances down to her washed light blue jeans that are tucked into brown boots. Her white woollen sweater sits neatly on top with a cream coloured scarf wrapped around her neck. Sierra thinks it suffices, but she is Sierra Kingsley, and she has to be more than just 'enough'.

At her high school, Sierra had selected a psychology paper and through what she had figured to be a wasteful exercise, Sierra had learned about what clothing choices meant to everyone and how it was an expression of self-identification. Unable to help herself, her eyes roam over the various outfits, perusing each student.

She studies the dark skinned girl with curiosity. Question marks arise in Sierra's mind as her gaze falls on the Hijab covering her hair and neck. Sierra wonders if the girl standing a metre away has been in touch with her magic, after all witches have their own beliefs about religion. Their ancestors believed that there was only one religion, much like other humans. The Gods had gifted the world with a cauldron, and if the cauldron deemed you worthy, then and only then, would you feel the surge of magic coursing through your blood. Though these past decades, more witches have been defining their own beliefs.

Not expecting the rustling sound that surrounds the new students, Sierra turns around in sync with the other students. She finally notices that they're surrounded by bushes and trees, and she can't even spot a single patch that isn't covered by a green hedge. The greenery parts and with a whoosh and a blur, a golden carriage appears and then another. When there are five carriages lined up, the doors open and students stumble out looking ready to vomit their guts out in a nearby bush.

Luxines, Sierra realises. Witches that are unaware of the magic rushing through their veins until the school professors had arrived at their homes with the news. Every witch is raised among civisals as a part of abiding by the treaty between humans and witches. The Pacem treaty was drafted centuries ago by the leading politicians of the world and Governor Elias. Till this day, it is followed.

The treaty allowed witches and humans to coexist in harmony (with humans unaware of the existence of witches, of course). For the first nineteen years of your life, you were expected to live a human life, and when you received your letter of acceptance, would you come to the academy and be witched.

Sierra feels her stomach tighten at the mere thought of the witching. Anxiety and apprehension swirls in her stomach and she fights the urge to run away and hide. She isn't quite sure why she is so nervous in the first place. After all, she knows she is going to be witched as a controller. Two years ago, Sierra had accidentally peered into her mother's mind to find out what she was hiding from Sierra. A year ago, her father, Robert Kingsley, had taught her how to control it. She hadn't gotten the chance to fully master her powers, but she is getting there. With the help of the academy, she plans on doing just that.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Lucas Faye is a firm believer in the saying 'expect the unexpected' and he abides by it every day of his life. But never, ever, in his life would he have expected for a man to appear into the living room of his house out of nowhere and tell him that he is a witch. A witch, for fuck's sake. How coo-coo is that? Very.

When the man declared that Lucas needed to go study at an academy in Montana for witches, he was never more than grateful that his mother wasn't home. If she was, the man would've been beaten by a pan, and shooed out of the house by his extremely paranoid mother. But thankfully, his father was at home, who turned out to have taken the news more calmly than Lucas himself.

And now, Lucas walks through the halls of the academy. This is going to be his home. He wonders if it's worth pulling out his phone and snapchatting the academy like a tour. But the Professor's words from their first meeting ring in his mind. Lucas doubts that breaking the witching law over a snapchat video was hardly worth it.

"Now, you will enter and take a seat anywhere. You will slowly be called up one by one and then be witched. Any questions?" the professor that Lucas recognises as the same man who had visited his house, explains. Using the only knowledge he had about witches (all thanks to Harry Potter), Lucas had assumed that the professors would be wearing robes that billowed behind them. But instead the professor wears dress pants and a white dress shirt that is tucked in and a black tie. It is quite similar to what he wore the day he had popped up in his house, but Lucas had assumed that it was so he wouldn't frighten him and his family.

"Uh, yes. What is being 'witched' exactly?" a meekly voice questions from the crowd. In perfect synchronisation, that has Lucas a little freaked out, heads turn towards the tiny girl who doesn't look all that welcoming towards the new found attention.

The professor grins as if he knew that someone was bound to ask this question. "Well, Miss?"

The girl who looks like she belongs in Freshman year back in high school, gulps before answering, "Devina Harris."

"Yes, so Miss Harris the witching hour is when young witchlings like yourself are witched. There are six types of witches, you see. Controllers, Summoners, Benders, Healers, Seers and Consumers. Every witch has magic and the ability to do it. But every witch specializes in something. During the witching hour you all find out what type of a witch you are."

The girl nods and Lucas' stomach churns. The fear of the unknown finally sinking in. What if he doesn't belong here? What if they made a mistake and he isn't a witch?

He tries not to groan and instead focuses on the professor. The older witch opens his mouth to speak when a little flame bursts into thin air right in front of the man. Many students stare at the flame as if it is nothing but others including Lucas step back. The professor chuckles in amusement and put his hand into the flame resulting in horrified gasps from some students.

"Not to worry, it's just a letter."

True to his words, the professor pulls out a small folded paper which he opens and his eyes skims over the words. The flame disappears. Lucas can't believe his eyes. With a smile, the professor alerts, "It's time for us to go in."

And just as the words leave the man's mouth, the golden doors that are shut behind the professor open.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Sierra's eyes run over the hall hungrily, taking in anything and everything. The walls are white with gold lines and patterns running across them. She can pick out the vestiums that would be tattooed on their wrists after they are witched. The walls run up and then meet in the middle, convexing into the ceiling. Chandeliers hang threateningly lighting up the hall.

Tables of two, three, six and a few of ten are placed all around the room. Long tables of food are aligned against the sides of the hall. She is supposed to spend three years here. Hell, she wouldn't mind spending her entire life here.

"Please take your seats," a firm voice instructs. Sierra looks up at the witch standing at the podium on the stage where the other professors are seated. The witch wears a grey and white pantsuit and from her blonde hair to her toes, she looks prim and proper. Her hawk-like brown eyes shift from one student to another, and when they land on Sierra, the younger witch gulps and quickly sits down at the nearest table with an empty seat.

When she sits down she finally notices that she has joined a group who look older than her. Definitely not first years. They stare at her with knowing smiles and she tries to smile in return. Though the anxiety twisting around her gut results in her grimacing instead.

"Your names will be called and you will step forward and reach into the cauldron." The professor that had led them in instructed, nodding towards the white cauldron that stands in the middle of the stage.

Another witch whom Sierra assumes is a professor, steps forward from the table that the adults are seated at and passes a scroll to the professor in charge of the witching hour.

"Viktoria Ace." A tall girl stands up from the table next to the one Sierra is seated at. Viktoria smiles up at the table of professors and walks towards the stage. Only when she steps up to the cauldron does her smile waver. With a last glance at the professors, she plunges her hand into the goblet.

'One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four - ' Sierra counts in her head before purple flames erupt from the table and engulf Viktoria's hand. Bender. The kind of witches that wield the elements of the Earth to their own desire and will. While other first years' eyes widen and they gasp, Viktoria looks excited. Purple ink flows over her skin, shaping the swirls over her wrist. The magic from the cauldron runs over her wrist and an upside down pi sign. Viktoria Ace steps off stage as another student is called upon.

"Zoe Argent."

Another girl stands up and someone lets out an obnoxious whistle. Sierra watches the girl direct her eyes to a male who sits on the other side of the hall with a mischievous smirk on his face. Zoe's hand reaches down and pauses near the cauldron. With her dark skin contrasting against the white of the cauldron, Zoe shoves her hand in. Green flames erupt this time, a healer witch.

"Alec Bacani." Healer. And so on it went. Name after name.

"Dayton Blackwood." The same boy who had whistled earlier on, stands up and saunters towards the cauldron. Though he radiates confidence, even he hesitates before his hand dives into the goblet. Red flames erupt and a hush spread through the hall.

No professor claps, instead many gasp.

"Consumer witch," the professor who stands at the podium says. Day looks at the professor and then at his hand as the red consumer vestium prints itself on his wrist. With his eyes wide and disbelieving, Day steps off the stage and takes his seat.

"I don't get it. What's the big deal?" the boy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned, leans over and whispers. Sierra had initially assumed that he was a second or third year student but now noticing the puzzled look on his face, she knows he is a Luxine. You can't be a witch and not know what the big deal is, unless you are a first year Luxine.

"He's a consumer witch. Consumer witches are extremely rare," a girl who sits across from Sierra explains.

"How rare?" the boy asks.

"Like once in a century, rare," Sierra adds. The boy lets out an 'ohh' in understanding and nods.

"My name's Lucas by the way. I'm obviously what you guys have been calling a luxine," Lucas says, introducing himself with a warm smile.

"Sierra Kingsley." She smiles in return.

"Like Sierra Knightley?" Sierra stares at him, an eyebrow raised. Lucas continues, "You know, from Pirates of the Caribbean?"

Sierra nods slowly, and drawls out her reply, "Right."

In all honesty, Sierra had never watched Pirates of the Carribean, and the pop-culture reference flies over her head. She hopes that whoever Sierra Knightley is, she was a decent character. Sierra had always been irked by movies, a fact that probably had more to her aversion to technology than anything.

"Minerva Cortez." Grey flames erupt and the magical wisps engulf the blonde haired witch's hands. Summoner witch. The kind of witches that could perform necromancy.

"Lila Culius." White flames. Seer witch. Those gifted with the ability to see the future.

"Maria Debris." Purple flames. Bender witch.

More names are called out and Sierra's mind flows towards the tables lined with food. She can see the various meats, from pork to turkey. Everything except deer, the animal that adorns every cauldron made for witches. The antlers of the deer reach for the sky, marking the animal as sacred and representing strength, intuition and regeneration.

"Lucas Faye."

Sierra turns to smile encouragingly at Lucas who

looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. White

flames engulf his hand and white ink crawls up his arm. He is a seer witch, and Sierra claps louder than she has done the entire witching hour.

When Lucas comes back to take his seat with a dazed look on his face all he can muster to say is, "Cool!"
Sierra laughs for the first time that hour.

With several students walking up to the goblet, Sierra can barely keep up with the names.

"Teara Gamble."

"Devina Harris."

"Amisha Jeet."

"Sierra Kingsley."

Despite what she had expected, Sierra takes a moment to realise that it is her name. It takes a nudge from Lucas for her to stand up. As the blue flames envelope her hand, she isn't even a little bit surprised. Though she had expected to feel a little heat, but nothing. With a smile she steps off, a little satisfied that she had predicted that she was going to be witched as a Controller.

A few names later, the same Asian boy who had messed up her hair stands up. Noah Woods. He itches the corner of his eyes with his finger as he nervously steps up next to the goblet. His hand reaches up to press down his hair before they stand back up again, more alert than before. He wets his lips and then nervously puts his hand into the cauldron. He waits. Everyone waits. But there is nothing. The professors exchange looks and the professor at the podium steps towards Noah.

Out of nowhere, flames of different colours: purple and green shoot up and embrace his hand. Noah's eyes widen and he stumbles back but the colours follow him and proceed to swirl up his arm, printing two vestiums along his arms rather than just one on his wrist.

Sierra stares at the stage in shock, and even Lucas doesn't have a witty remark to quip. Never in the existence of Sierra's love for reading, had she stumbled upon the words that could dictate a witch specialising in more than one. As Sierra peers up at the witch who specialised in two, she can see the label 'important' plastered on him.

"Congratulations, Mr. Woods. A bender and healer witch. Please take your seat," the professor at the podium instructs. Sierra thinks there will be some hints of bewilderment or surprise on her face, but instead it remains void of emotion. Noah Woods who still is barely recovering from his witching, nods and walks off stage.

After the last names are called up, the witch clears her throat. "Welcome to the Gemini Academy. This will be your coven for the next three years. This will be your home. I am your Principal and you may call me Principal Cashore.

"You've been witched and now the classes you take, the decisions you make about your future will revolve around your specialization. There are some housekeeping rules that you must follow. If you dare break them, make sure you are prepared to deal with the consequences. No student is permitted to use the alcove passages. Wandering in the halls of the fourth and fifth floor in castle stellarum and castle celasium are strictly prohibited. After dinner our head students will lead you into your dorms and show you around the academy."

Principal Cashore nods to the witch with the scroll, who then begins speaking, "I am Deputy Principal Bane and I'm the professor of Incantations. If you have any questions feel free to find me in my office in castle moenus on the second floor."

"Welcome to Gemini Academy, you may begin with your dinner," the Principal says and before she can even finish her sentence students are getting up and getting their food. And thus begins their journey.

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