Hello and welcome to the coven installment of the Misery series! I know I've posted and deleted this story a bunch of times in the past. But after months of plotting and figuring out logistics, and also being recently inspired by Apocalypse, I present the new and improved Coven fic! So enjoy! This is part of the Misery series, but you do not necessarily have to read the other stories for this one to make sense
Prologue
2014
The clinking of dry cereal hitting the porcelain bowl was loud enough to drown out the noise coming from the television, so Isabel didn't hear the news story right away. It wasn't until she sat down on the small couch, legs tucked under her, that she noticed who was being interviewed on Good Morning America. Her grip on the cereal bowl loosened and she nearly dropped it in surprise.
Cordelia Foxx was speaking candidly about witches.
It wasn't something Isabel thought she'd ever see in her lifetime. When she had been at the academy, it had been vital that witchcraft be kept a secret for security reasons. Now, the headmistress of Miss Robichaux's, the same headmistress who taught her to never show magic to anyone outside of the coven, was advertising the academy.
Isabel watched, completely captivated, her cereal now forgotten and getting soggy in the two percent milk. As Cordelia kept talking, Isabel read the label on the screen below Cordelia's image: "Cordelia Foxx: Supreme and Headmistress."
Supreme.
Well, a lot had certainly changed since she left the academy. Did that mean…? Probably.
Ding dong, the witch is dead, Isabel thought to herself. It was an awful thing. Fiona Goode had been a manipulative bitch, but Isabel knew better than anyone to speak ill of the dead. Cordelia probably thought the same thing, though.
Was there a funeral? Isabel didn't hear anything about it, so probably not. Fiona wouldn't want her downfall advertised.
Remembering her cereal, Isabel took a bite as soon as her cellphone went off. Her father's picture filled up the screen.
"Hullo?" Isabel said into the receiver with a mouthful of Froot Loops.
"Bad time?" Derek teased, knowing that the muffled sound of his daughter's voice was because she was in mid-chew.
Isabel swallowed. "Nah, you're good."
"Cereal?"
"Yup."
"Makes you miss Moira's cooking, I bet."
"Nothing beats her Sunday brunch. So what's up?"
"Did you see the Good Morning America?" Derek asked. "Cordelia's being interviewed. Looks like she's advertising the academy."
"Headmistress, Supreme, and interviewee extraordinaire. That woman can do anything." Isabel set aside the cereal bowl and sat back on the couch, watching as the story switched over to the local weather.
There was a pause, and then Derek asked, "Do you ever consider going back?"
It was a valid question, but one that Isabel wished he wouldn't ever ask. She had gone to the academy; she had done her time. It wasn't an awful place, but Isabel couldn't go back to study there.
"I got what I needed from that place. No point in going back." She had learned to control her powers. That was the lesson Cordelia provided and it was all Isabel asked for. She never wanted to learn about furthering her magic, and she still wasn't interested. She had her own life now. Her own little apartment in New Orleans, a cozy job at a cafe; she was comfortable now. No use in disturbing the peace. "Maybe I'll stop by, though. Catch up and stuff."
She wouldn't, and they both knew it. Miss Robichaux's had served as a home, and Isabel didn't harbor animosity towards Cordelia or the Coven. But Isabel wouldn't go back, not after everything that happened.