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𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 witch academy ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ
𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚. She absolutely hated it and would rather sleep all day. Ambrose lounged on her bed while Natalya paced back and forth while packing her bags.
"I'm stressed, Ambrose," She says.
"Aren't you even a little excited, Nat?" He asked.
"Absolutely not. Starting a new school is stressful. Remember when I tried going to Baxter? Dad pulled me out within a week," She replied, sighing. She grabs a red turtleneck blouse and shoves it into her bag.
Oh, gosh, Natalya barely even lasted a day inside of Sabrina's school. There were multiple times in the day where she felt overwhelmed and nearly used her powers. At least at the academy she wouldn't have to hide.
"Nat, you are the precipice of a stupendous new adventure at the Academy of Unseen Arts. You will meet interesting witches and warlocks from all over the world," Ambrose explains, getting up from Natalya's bed, "Some of them, a great many of them, will be hot."
Natalya scoffed at her cousin. Sure, with every school comes their great share of good looking teens, but that's not the point. She's more interested in knowledge than, well, good looking people.
"I'm not going to hook up with hot warlocks. I'm going to learn how to defeat the Dark Lord with Sabrina," She says. Natalya shoves a couple of books in her bag then continues, "I'm going to learn how to conjure him, bind him, banish him. That's my only agenda."
Sure, she was pretty knowledgeable in some of those subjects, but she wants to learn more than she already knew. Ambrose had to remind her that just because she generates her own power, doesn't mean she's as powerful as the Dark Lord.
"We'll see about that," Natalya scoffed, walking out of her bedroom.
❦
Natalya woke up bright and early that morning to head to the academy right before Sabrina. She wore a black dress, black boots, and a crimson red leather jacket gifted to her by her best friend, Cheryl Blossom.
She held her bag close to her body as she walked through a set of train tracks and stops at an old building. A young boy stands on the top of the steps holding a small chalkboard.
As she approached, the little boy said, "Pardon me, Miss. Are you Natalya?"
