Chapter 1- The Inciting Incident

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You were the complete opposite of what humans called a 'Leprechaun'.

(pronounced lep-rih-con)

You always found yourself in a struggle, or accidently doing something illegal.

It wasn't that you were gullible, of course you weren't! 

You were amazing at fighting, you were fairly intelligent, and you were gifted with magic that could not be explained- nor sorted into any coven.

That is, except the Emperor's coven.

Since you were old enough to understand what it was, you had been determined to get in.

Not to be a pathetic coven scout, some nut-head with measly magic tricks and goon-like instincts. 

No, you wanted to actually be noticed.

But, as aforementioned, you were a highly unfortunate soul.

Breaking bones, falling into fights, creating accidental rivalries- you had the whole sha-bang.

Horseshoes practically cried when you walked past.

Once, you had walked through a door only to be whacked on the head as a horseshoe plummeted from its nail.

You had crossed out being cursed- who would want to curse some random orphan?

You believed it was to do with the magic you possessed.

It was wild, and spontaneous. It was beautiful, and dangerous. 

No one was able to explain it. But, they all agreed it was bound to cause trouble.

And it did. Sure enough.

But what if your bad luck, meant something good would happen? 

That would be preposterous, right?

Maybe not... 


You strolled through the Bonesbrugh market, minding your own business.

You noticed a small group of coven scouts huddled together.

Titan, what it would be like to have authority over them, to command respect.

But alas, you were just unlucky y/n. The girl with powers of misfortune.

You caught yourself before you tripped on a rock, and carefully darted round a small crowd gathered round a stall.

You grabbed a small pouch of salt out your pocket, and tossed it over your shoulder in the hopes it would improve your luck.

You wore a loose shirt with puffy sleeves, black bottoms and knee high brown lace up boots.

All that you wore, of course, battered and caked in mud.

At the moment, you had a bandage wrapped tightly around one of your pointed ears- you were recovering after being attacked by a mad old witch.

Your heart calmed as the edge of the market came into view, where there was no more risk of accidental theft.

"Oi! Stop right there- thief!" a voice called out.

You spun around, and looked down at the bundle of goods in your arms.

Not again.

The coven scouts were marching towards you.

"Sorry!! Look, let me put these back-" you said, using telekinesis to send the goods back to their stalls.

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