Fortunes | Book One | Rewrite |

If you could see what the future may hold, would it still turn out the same?


Author's note

This is a rewrite of my novel Fortunes that I intend to publish. If you want to read the original it can be found here (please note, however, that this version will be much different and hopefully better): The sequel is in progress, so you will have to wait to read that one. If you see any errors or have suggestions for how I can make the story better, please let me know! Thank you and enjoy the story!

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

   Sorcellerie Prophetie took her seat in the front of the bus, away from the loud and obnoxious playboys and cheerleaders that took up the entire back half of the vehicle. She sat down with a sigh, removing the bag from her shoulder and dropping it down to the seat next to her in hopes of warding away anyone who had plans to attempt conversation. Sorcellerie had no interest in making awkward small talk with anyone who attended same horrid school as her. 

     Once the bus reached her stop, she got up and exited the bus. She climbed into the back of the waiting car and used the elastic around her wrist to pull her long, black hair into a messy bun atop her head. She watched the small, underpopulated street pass by through the window as the car made it’s way to the end of the street.

     The street ended in a hill, and at the bottom stood a tall, metal gate. The gate opened to a long, well-maintained driveway, leading up to a large mansion, which was a stylish blend of modern and gothic-victorian architecture. The car stopped at the bottom of the marble stairs leading up to the front door of the house.       Sorcellerie thanked the chauffeur as she climbed out of the car and made her way up the stairs and into the house. Upon entering the house, she dropped her bag next to the door and bent down to pull off her combat boots. As she tucked them away in the closet and picked up her bag, a woman walked in.

     “Good afternoon Miss Prophetie, is there anything I can get for you?” the woman asked her kind, wrinkled face breaking into a smile.

     “No thanks,” Sorcellerie began to walk up the large, spiral stairs to the right of the entryway, but turned back to ask, “Is my father in his office?”

     “Yes, would you like me to fetch him for you?” the woman turned to leave the room.

     “No, that’s okay,” Sorcellerie assured her. “Just making sure.”

     “Of course. If you’ll excuse me,” the woman nodded and walked off to another area of the house, perhaps to start on dinner or to tell Sorcellerie’s father that she had arrived home.

     Sorcellerie made her way up the stairs, and down a long hallway, finally reaching her room. She opened the door, taking off her leather jacket and hanging it on the back of the door as she closed it. She changed from her skinny jeans and tight-fitting t-shirt into black leggings and an oversized sweater, advertising a metal band.

       Moving back to the door, she opened it and peered down the hall, to ensure no one was listening to what she was about to do. Retreating back into her room, she locked the door behind her and drew the blinds on her windows.

       At the center of the room, Sorcellerie lifted the deep red rug, revealing a large pentagram painted onto the dark, hardwood floor. Crossing the room to her desk, Sorcellerie pulled out the false bottom of a drawer to reveal candles, incense sticks, bottles of herbs,  strangle liquids, parchments, and scrolls. Taking out four candles, she placed them on the North, South, East, and West sides of the pentagram. She turned out the lights and sitting in the center of the pentagram, lit each candle. She began to silently chant, lips reciting an old spell in a long forgotten language, without uttering a single sound.

       Soon the room went eerily still. Sorcellerie froze, her breathing cut short. The candles went out and the room went dark. Papers on the desk began to rustle in a sudden wind. Sorcellerie’s eyes flew open, revealing a red glow where her eyes had been. Then, everything stopped. Her eyes closed and the wind stopped, the candles lit themselves once again. Sorcellerie gasped, her breathing restarting. Putting out the candles, she stood up, moving to the desk where she began to write frantically. She had just barely replaced the rug when there was a knock at the door.

       “Yes?” She asked, moving to unlock the door.

     “Dinner is ready Miss Prophetie,” the maid’s voice called from the other side of the door.

     “I’ll be there in a moment,” Sorcellerie called, putting away her candles and the notebook she had written in.

       She opened the door, heading back down the hallway and down the stairs. When she entered the dining room she took her seat at the table, sitting in the empty seat her brother had once sat in. Her father was seated at the head of the table, across from the seat her mother once occupied. It had been years since her brother had been sent away and even longer since her mother had died, yet there the chairs sat. The chairs gave her a feeling of happiness, knowing that they had not been forgotten, but at the same time, she wished they weren’t there as they reminded her of the broken state of her family.

     They had been dining for a while, having just finished the main course and no one had spoken a word unless to ask one of the servers for another drink. There wasn’t usually much talking at the Prophetie dinner table, but normally her father would have initiated some kind of small talk by this point in the meal. Sorcellerie dare not speak first, as her father found it disrespectful when she spoke without first being spoken to. As if sensing her thoughts, her father cleared his throat, signaling he was ready to speak.

     “Sorcellerie, how is your schooling going?” he asked, pausing to adjust his tie. “Has anyone had any suspicions about us? About our magic?”

     “Nothing out of the ordinary, father,” she replied. “I’m ahead in all of my classes.”

     “How is your magic going?” he asked, examining the salad the server had placed in front of him. “Are you any closer to discovering your ability?”

     “Well…” Sorcellerie knew what her ability was, but something inside her told her that she had to lie. “No, not exactly.”

     “Sorcellerie, you know how important it is that you find your ability, don’t you?” He leaned closer to her, raising his eyebrows as if daring her to say ‘no’.

     “Yes, I know,” She sighed. “If I don’t find it by the time I turn seventeen I will suffer a fate worse than death.”

     “Then you know that you need to focus more on your magic,” he lectured. “I know you feel as though you must do well in your non-magic classes, but they’re simply not as important as your magical studies.”

     “I know father,” Sorcellerie looked down at her plate, appetite suddenly disappearing.

       “I’ve been thinking,” he began to pick at the salad on his plate, though he would not eat until he had finished speaking. “Perhaps it’s time I sent you to a school for other magical children, to help you learn what you are capable of.”

     “How come you didn’t enroll me in that school before?” Sorcellerie asked, now genuinely curious. This was the first she had heard of any magic school.

     “I didn’t enroll you in a magical school before because you are a Prophetie,” he explained. “Those with the Prophetie name are traditionally taught magic by their parents or private tutors. This has been the way for many generations. Nobles don’t attend schools with commoners.”

     “Father, this isn’t the 1800s, there’s no such thing as ‘Nobles’ anymore,” Sorcellerie began to argue, but seeing the look from her father, stopped.

       “We are still of a higher status than most magiks,” Her father was one that thought money defined quality of character. “But I believe it would be better for your learning experience, as well as our public image in the magic community if you were to attend school with other magics your age. Perhaps of less fortunate status.”

     “So, where will I go to school now?” Sorcellerie asked, hoping for Hogwarts, despite knowing it was a work of fiction.

     “You will be transferring to the Veneficus Ludum Academy for Gifted Youths,” He told her. “You will be taking the rest of the week off of your non-magic schooling to pack, and on Monday morning you will be taken to your new school.”

     “Is it a boarding school, father?” Sorcellerie asked, unsure about what her father meant when he said she would need to pack.

     “Yes, you will be staying until the winter break when you will come home for the holidays before returning to school,” he explained. “You will need to pack clothes, though you will be receiving uniforms upon arrival.”

     “Of course,” She gagged internally at the mention of uniforms. “That sounds wonderful.”

     The rest of the dinner passed without conversation and after another two hours, Sorcellerie was free to do as she pleased for the night. Hoping to satisfy her curiosity about Veneficus Ludum Academy for Gifted Youths, she decided to go the library.

       The Prophetie library hosted a large and extensive collection of books of all genres, both magical and scientific, fiction and nonfiction. The library itself was two stories, with a door on the ground floor leading to a carpeted room with many tables and chairs in the center with bookshelves lining every wall except the back wall, where stood an old stone fireplace, giving the room a warm, homey feeling. To the left of the fireplace was a small staircase, leading onto the second floor of the library, where a balcony wrapped around the walls, allowing for people on the upper floor to see and talk to the people on the lower floor. The door on the second floor of the library led out into the main second-floor hallway. To the right side of the fireplace was the door to the record room, which was labeled with a small, dull, golden plaque.

       Something told Sorcellerie to go into the record room, she felt as if a silent voice was calling to her. Deciding to follow her instincts, she began to walk to the record room, only stopping to ensure that she was alone. She closed the door behind her, pulling the string to turn on the light in the room, stirring up a layer of dust in the process. The room appeared to have gone untouched since the last time the files had to be edited. The day after her mother’s death.

     Sighing, she began to look through the files. Stumbling upon the one detailing her immediate family, she pulled the drawer open, coughing at the puff of dust that emerged. Once the dust cleared, she sorted through the files, her brother’s, her’s, her father’s, then finally, her mother’s. Pulling out her mother’s file, she once again looked to ensure she was alone before opening it to read.

  Name: Antoinette Prophetie (Maiden Name: Bellamy)

Sex: Female

D.O.B: 04/24/77

Relations: Westley Bellamy (father), Maria Bellamy (mother), Elizabeth Bellamy (sister; younger), Edward Prophetie (spouse), Sorcellerie Prophetie (daughter), Edmund Prophetie (son)

Ability: Prophecies (Discovered; 04/23/92)

D.O.D: 08/05/11 (Age; 34)

C.O.D: Murder (Anima Remoto; Culprit unknown)

     Sorcellerie gasped, her blue eyes welling up with tears. Had her mother been murdered? Her father had told her and her brother that she had gotten sick, but her file clearly stated that she had been murdered. Why would he lie? Was he trying to keep them from being afraid? But if that was the case, why had he been telling them tales of suffering a fate worse than death since they were young?

     Sorcellerie thought of asking her father but then thought better of it. Her father was not the most understanding of people and he would undoubtedly be angry with her for going through the family’s files. She knew she couldn’t ask any of the staff, they would tell her father for sure, and they weren’t to be involved in any magical happenings of the household.

       She put the file away, thinking it best to just go to bed and pretend she hadn’t read anything. On her way out of the library, she decided to grab a book on magical schools in case her father passed her in the hallway. Getting to her room without running into anyone, she locked her door and changed into some black, flannel pajamas. Then she sat down on her bed and decided to read up on the school to see if she could find anything interesting on the school she was soon to attend.

        The Veneficus Ludum Academy for Gifted Youths is a well-known school for magical children in grades nine through twelve but offers advanced courses that allow students to take post-secondary classes in their final years at the academy. The academy is known for the extremely high rates at which students go to post-secondary schools. The quality of education at The Veneficus Ludum Academy is known to be among the highest in the world.

     The grounds are known for being large and beautifully maintained. The grounds include a pool, tennis courts, basketball courts, soccer and football fields, and other various sporting fields and tracks. The grounds also have gardens and greenhouses, as the school grows its own fruits and vegetables, and offers courses on agriculture. The grounds are fenced in and surrounded by thick, green forests full of birds and other wildlife. Students are advised to be out of the woods long before nightfall and never to go alone. 

          The current Headmistress, Mary McGuffin, is known for her accomplishments in fighting the dark arts. She has been the headmistress since the year 1975, and despite being in her eighties, she doesn’t seem to desire retirement anytime soon. Mary is known for single-handedly, discovering and taking down organizations known for their enslavement of magical children. While being headmistress at the school she has helped to rehabilitate many of these children and enroll them into her school, as well as improve the overall mental, emotional, and physical health of the students under her care. The quality of education had also improved immensely in the years since she has taken over as the headmistress, convincing many that she may be one of the greatest headmistresses in magical history.

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