Apocalypse Then - 2017

The Louisiana heat wouldn't have bothered her if not for the humidity that came with it. Em…Emily was used to the southern heat, but it didn't mean she had to like it. She only hoped the old house had a good AC system.

A pure white beacon of light and hospitality, the house looked like it came right out of the 1800s. It had a wrap-around porch, wrought iron railings, and white columns that reminded her of a Greek mausoleum. Her mother gushed about the architecture behind her, a pipe dream of her idealized home.

It was beautiful, yes, but Emily's gut twisted as she felt something in the air that was somehow heavier than the boxes in her arm. The weight of history or the weight of her own anxiety, she couldn't tell. Either way, it intertwined with the humidity to create something that stuck to her skin, suffocating her.

Her parents worked with a boy to carry her things inside — Kyle. He moved past her and up the front steps, carrying three boxes of books as if they were nothing. The boy had been silent save for his introduction. Not that any of them had bothered talking to him.

That boy felt… off. Emily had stared at him for the longest moment, not quite convinced he was real. She had never seen a butler before, didn't think they even existed in the modern world. However, that wasn't what threw her off. Something about the way he held himself wasn't quite human… not to mention the strange familiarity she felt when she looked at him. Eventually, Emily had pulled her eyes away, breaking the feeling his presence evoked.

One step at a time. That's what she kept reminding herself. It was a hard mentality to keep. With every step she took she wondered why she was even there.

A buzzing filled her body, reverberating deep in her bones. The feeling was similar to that of being underwater, the world above nothing but a memory which her lungs ached for. All the brunette could do is stare at the house, unable to shake the feeling.

Anxiety was a bitch.

"Do you need help with that?"

Emily barely even noticed the woman that approached her, long straight brown hair and donned in shades of black. Zoe had visited her back home, informed her of this private girl's school of which Emily suddenly had a full-ride scholarship to.

Looking back, she should have known magic was real by the glazed look in her parents' eyes when she arrived home one weekend. Zoe had been at the table across from them. Emily would always remember the glazed look in their eyes. They rose no questions about an all-girls boarding school. It was a fact of life gone unquestioned and unrivaled. There was a school in Louisiana and Emily would be attending as soon as her college approved the transfer.

Green eyes glanced at Zoe before turning back to the mansion before her. The woman came to stand by the new arrival, about to open her mouth to say something until the brunette beat her to the punch.

"I've seen this place before…" Emily murmured before she could think.

Zoe was surprised for but a moment before a smile flickered across her lips. She remembered the feeling of knowing everything and nothing at the same time, reaching into an ancient power so familiar and foreign at once.

"Where?" she asked, trying to prompt the girl more. Patiently, she stood and waited for an answer.

"In a dream…" Emily went on, "there was a boy… made from the parts of others. You couldn't tell it by looking at him, though."

"What did this boy look like? Zoe asked, forcing her back to relax despite the hairs that rose on the back of her neck.

"… Blonde?"

Whatever trance Emily was in seemed to break. Her posture changed, the box she held weighing her down more than it had moments prior. She offered Zoe an awkward smile, desperately hiding her embarrassment. "It was a dream. Didn't remember everything."

The pair stepped to the side as Emily's father came by with more boxes. His lips twisted in a strained scowl as he tried to carry more boxes than Kyle. Emily sighed at the display, moving out of his way with Zoe. The senior witch noted the other woman's body twisting so she'd be as far from the man as possible.

"I feel like I'm moving an entire house," Emily finally spoke, trying to break the awkward silence with a pathetic attempt at humor. A crooked and awkward smile flickered across her lips but was gone just as fast.

"Trust me," Zoe reassured with a smile. She took a box from the car and moved to guide Emily inside. "I've seen girls that brought way more than you have. My first roommate had so many clothes that…"

Emily's eyes drifted upwards once more as they approached the front door. Green eyes focused on a window where movement fluttered behind the curtains. For a moment, she caught the eyes of a silhouette standing behind the glass, the only feature she could discern being a head of blonde hair. Then, they were gone and her eyes returned to her feet as she made her way up the front steps and into her new home.

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"We don't even know if she has any gifts!"

Cordelia pulled away from the window of her room as Myrtle bemoaned yet another of her displeasures. The visit to Hawthorne had put all of them on edge. The red-head was now questioning every move her supreme made. She was torn between her role as Cordelia's guardian and her role as a council-member under the leadership of the witch queen.

"An anonymous call from Atlanta about a possible witch?" Cordelia questioned, brows knitting in confusion as she looked upon Myrtle. Her voice had an air of confidence which made it difficult to disagree. "Delphi may be disbanded and many of their order killed, but they still exist. Atlanta is their heart. We couldn't risk it."

Myrtle's lips twisted as she realized the blonde woman had a point, but the red-head had always been stubborn.

Cordelia sighed. There were so many thoughts in her mind, so many decisions to make and plans to create. It made her miss the days where she could sit in her greenhouse stirring potions.

"There's something in her eyes, Myrtle," Cordelia said, turning from the woman with a shake of her head to look out the window once more. Below the girl stood, parents in front of her. The car was empty, doors closed. The brunette stood stiffly as her parents hugged her, making no move to hug them back. "That girl needs us… she needs a family… a mother."

"Don't go imprinting on the child too quickly, Delia. She may be the cuckoo in the nest" Myrtle warned. With a huff, she crossed her arms, coming to stand beside the woman at the window. "Let's first make sure she has a lick of magic in her bones."

Myrtle watched the woman beside her. Cordelia's eyes were trained on the young woman as she walked back up to the front door, not even waiting for her parents to drive away.

"She does," Cordelia spoke with such a conviction that cut through any doubts Myrtle may have had. Her hands rested on the window frame, holding back the curtain as a smile flickered to the Supreme's lips. She felt almost… giddy. This house had stood empty for so long. Now it was filled once more with her fellow sister-witches. "I can feel it."

A knock pulled the pair from the window.

"Miss Cordelia?" a muffled voice called from the other side of the door.

Cordelia turned towards the door behind her, "Come in."

Zoe poked her head through the door, hands resting on the door as she leaned in.

"The family has left. Can I give the all-clear?"

Another motherly smile pulled at Cordelia's lips and she gave a single nod. Zoe pulled back, the door slowly closing behind her.

"And, Zoe?"

The door stopped closing and, though she could not see Zoe, Cordelia knew the woman was listening.

"Give our new sister the unedited tour, will you?"

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Emily stood in the front hall. A few girls donned in black dresses wandered here and there. The brunette felt out of place in a bright pink t-shirt, jean jacket, and shorts. A hand went to her messy pony-tail, rubbing the ends of it between her fingers as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to do.

She had gone to public school all her life and had been going to a public college before Zoe came and told her she was a witch. The brunette had laughed when Zoe said those words, the moment all too similar to when Hagrid met Harry Potter.

Still, she couldn't believe it. It was like watching one of those ghost videos. Yeah, they were scary, but there had to be a logical explanation— dust, strings, a hidden person slamming a door. Her mind was at war, logic fighting whatever was in her gut that told her this was real… that magic was real. Even if it was… she certainly didn't have any.

If she did… well… the universe must have a hell of a humor. Admitting it was real meant that all along she could have—

When one goes home for the weekend in college, they expect a nice warm meal that didn't come from a pack of instant-ramen, a functional washer and dryer, and the smell of nostalgia. Not that Emily could remember much of her childhood — trauma was a bitch.

Emotional abuse was harder to prove than physical. Her parents stopped hitting her once she hit puberty. For some reason bruises on a child for "getting whooped" were normal until that point.

Since she had left for college, they had been nice, but it was a cheap plastic mask. Other's couldn't see it, but she certainly did. Emily would pay the price for groceries and a warm meal with gaslighting and manipulation. That was a price she was willing to pay until she could finally leave that vile place.

Hell may be horrible, but she could write her own rules and right now… well, this place was probably the farthest from that hell she would ever get. Emily had understood the rules back home. She had a plan. Now she was free-falling, trying to find her footing in a world she wasn't even sure existed. Magic? Magic was a fairytale, a dream children procured because the real world was lackluster and cruel.

Emily stepped back as a girl passed her in the hall. The brunette's arms were curled into her chest, hands running through the ends of her ponytail as she wandered and waited for someone to tell her what to do. With a shake of her hands, she forced herself not to fidget. It made her look pathetic.

Before, she had been living in a dorm room. A small tomb of a thing barely larger than a broom closet. Here it felt like she was on the set of John and Kate Plus Eight, some stranger walking into the home of a large family with more than forty kids.

There seemed to be girls of all ages here, some no older than ten and others who looked to be almost in their thirties. It made the place feel more like a cult than a school. Then again, Zoe had called it a coven. Were the two really that different?

The sight of the other brunette woman descending the stairs was enough to make Emily's shoulders to relax, but the rest of her was just as tense as before. Zoe's eyes met her own and she offered a reassuring smile.

"I didn't realize there was a dress-code," Emily noted, that fleeting crooked smile coming to her lips once more. Why couldn't she shut up for five seconds— let the silence sit?

"There isn't, but most of our girls come from places where Gucci is casual-wear," Zoe said with a laugh, finally reaching Emily's side, "Ready for the tour?"

Biting her lip and tugging at the end of her shirt, Emily nodded. Zoe kept pace with her as they walked through the halls. Girls who had ignored her before now offered smiles, some even greeting the woman beside her in a friendly manner. Emily had ways been a wallflower, but the change in their demeanor felt isolating. Then again, outsiders were usually kept at arm's length in places like these.

"The salon is where most girls hang out… there or in the garden," Zoe spoke, gesturing to a large room directly on their left. She was a very animate speaker, always moving her hands.

The walls on the inside the salon were painted the same white as the outside, the furniture matching its surroundings and accented with dark wood. A few tables sat here and there, girls either sitting together or alone, and a grand piano was tucked into the corner of the room. However, it was the portraits that stood out to her. They covered the walls, barely leaving a blank space. Some were small and others were so large they could have taken up an entire wall on their own. It was as if the people displayed were competing for space.

Zoe gently urged her towards the other side of the hall. A grand opening in the wall allowed Emily to see part of a very long dining table. "and the dining area is where some classes are held, but most are done outside to keep damage to a minimum."

"Damage?" she asked, Zoe only able to give her a knowing smile as she saw the answer dawned on Emily's face, "Sorry… magic… right."

"We only eat here for special occasions," Zoe explained, "The kitchens down the hall are where most girls prefer to eat. Only the youngest of us have specific dining times so feel free to pop in whenever you wish."

There was an elephant in the room of which the woman had yet to address. Then again, Zoe was surrounded by magic constantly. It was probably as natural to her as breathing. Things became less… strange with time, Emily supposed. She couldn't help but wonder if this place was like those vampire-cults — people that pretended magic and the supernatural were real.

God, why did she come here? She couldn't get a job with magic. What would she say at interviews? That she spent the past four years in an old mansion dressing to the nines and pretending she was at Hogwarts?

A string of silence came between them, halls filled with the sound of heels on hardwood and residual chatter.

"When did you know you had magic?" Emily finally asked, wringing her hands and only sparing brief glances at the woman beside her.

Zoe slightly tensed, more due to her being lost and thought than in regards to that particular bad memory. With a sigh, she took a moment to collect her thoughts, stopping in her tracks and turning to the girl when she had finally found the words.

"I killed my boyfriend," the senior witch explained before chuckling to herself, "like Rogue from X-men."

The humor did little to ease her companion. She watched as Emily's brows furrowed and lips twisted. There wasn't much one could say to what Zoe told her. 'Sorry' felt like a cop-out and she didn't know the woman a lot to offer any other words of reassurance.

"It's alright," Zoe reassured, offering a brief touch to Emily's arm. The brunette tensed but made no move away from her tour guide. "I've moved past it. Controlled my power."

Emily fell back into step with the girl as they made their way down the hall once more, "…Is it always that extreme?"

Zoe smiled and shook her head, "some of the most powerful witches in history did not have evident powers. Some of us only have powers seen through rituals, aided by objects or symbols."

The other girl simply nodded along with Zoe's words. Emily's disbelief wasn't hard to pick up on, the air around her thick with it. If not for the extremity of her own awakening, Zoe might not have believed in magic, either.

"I'm holding a lesson tomorrow," the senior witch said, smiling and gesturing towards the girl, "Perhaps you'd like to sit in? I think you'd find it encouraging."

"I—"

"Hey! Sabrina!" a voice cut her off, a frantic clicking of heels coming from down the hall. A blonde woman marched towards them looking less than pleased. Zoe only sighed as she came to stop in front of them, arms crossing over her chest as she scowled. "Some D-rated witches fucked up and need someone with real talent to fix it for them."

"You're not powerful enough?" Zoe said with a scoff, crossing her arms as well and raising a brow.

"I don't clean up other people's messes."

"They just have to clean up yours, right?"

The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes. Pulling her sunglasses down her nose, she narrowed her eyes at Emily. The girl stood looking between the pair and waiting for their conversation to end.

"What are you staring at?" she demanded, "want an autograph or something?"

Zoe was quick to move between the two, "She's new."

The blonde let out a short, mocking laugh as she eyed the new girl up and down, "I'd say. Pro-tip newbie: don't kill anyone…"

Her attention turned to Zoe, not bothering to hide her murderous glare, "…they might not stay dead."

With the few words of wisdom, she pushed past the pair, making sure to bump Emily's arm in the process. "And get a wardrobe change, Cinderella — we wear Chanel, not Goodwill."

Zoe only rolled her eyes. Ever the drama-queen, that one. Letting out a breath, she refocused on the task at hand.

"I don't think you need much introduction for that one." She said, giving Emily a reassuring smile, "and, yes, she's always a bitch."

Emily looked confused, "who is she?"

"You don't know?"

The brunette shook her head. "Should I?"

"That's Madison Montgomery. You really haven't heard of her?"

"Nope."

Zoe laughed, a grin crawling to her lips as she shook her head in disbelief, "I think you're my new favorite student."

Another pair of footsteps coming towards them drew their attention away from each other once more. A smiling girl with light brown hair and a golden headband that looked more like a crown approached them. Another woman stood at her side, pushing back her short blonde hair and looking almost as uncomfortable as Emily did.

Zoe smiled at the girl in return, stepping back from her defensive position over Emily. "Perfect timing."

Zoe gestured between the pair as she made introductions, "Emily needs a new tour guide. A fault spell needs my attention."

The girl nodded her head, turning her attention to Emily and extending a hand as Zoe made her way down the hall, "I'm Mallory."

The blonde beside her stepped forward to shake her hand, grip firm and business-like. "Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt."

"Welcome to Robichaux Academy," Mallory beamed. Emily stiffened as she came between herself and Coco, lacing her arms with their own. A big grin covered her face. "Let's give you both the grand tour."

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Emily sat on her small, twin-sized bed. Books were scattered around her as she slowly put them onto the shelf by the authors' names. It was the calmest she had been since arriving, allowing herself to give in to the focus the task required.

She had a room to herself — thank god. It may have been a broom-closet once upon a time, but it had a window and enough space to keep her from feeling claustrophobic. A few plants and the place would have a life of its own. Emily was partial towards baby's breath and lavender.

A knock pulled her from her silent reverie. Her heart leaped in her chest, hands hovering over a copy of Wuthering Heights. Stepping back from the bed, she made her way to the door. A woman stood on the other side, poised with blonde hair and brown eyes. Emily bit her lip, waiting for her to speak.

"Hello," the woman finally spoke.

Cordelia was finally able to see her new sister up-close. Zoe had taken her case weeks prior, the blonde being too tired and weak to take the journey on her own. She smiled at the girl — curly brown hair reaching her shoulders and hazel-green eyes surrounded by thick-rimmed glasses.

"…hello." The girl finally spoke.

"I'm Cordelia Goode — a headmistress of sorts."

The girl only nodded, "Emily."

She was notably anxious. All Cordelia's girls were. The supreme could feel the air sparking like a lighter that wouldn't catch flame. Yes… this girl had magic in her bones. Perhaps it was buried inside her, but it was there.

Emily stepped back and allowed Cordelia to come inside, watching her as she looked around before settling on the desk chair. "I am very sorry to have kept you waiting this long."

"That's alright," the girl replied, almost as if she were afraid to speak too loudly.

"I assume you've been told why you're here."

Slowly, the brunette mirrored the woman's actions, taking a seat on her bed. It squeaked under her weight, old iron frame bending.

"Vaguely," she said with a nod, "you're a school for exceptional young girls…"

Her eyes flickered up from the floor for only a moment before they returned to bore a hole in the floor. Emily bit her lip as she thought about the next words to say. Cordelia simply sat back and waited for her to find them.

"… I think you must have gotten me confused for someone else."

Cordelia cocked her head and her brows furrowed ever slightly, "why on earth do you think that?"

"I'm 19… and they spoke of magic, but I've never done anything of the sort in my life."

"We cater to girls and women of all ages," the supreme reassured, sitting forward in her chair, "and some girls simply need the right push. Tell me— what makes you different than other girls?"

"What makes me… different?"

Emily had always hated the cliché line of 'I'm different from other girls.' It was so… unbelievable. Everyone was weird. Everyone had their quirk. Everyone was different in some form or another. Mediocrity was a trait they all shared and they all feared.

"I could be something small," Cordelia said, "exceptionally good luck, always knowing when something is wrong, dream-like—"

She perked up a beat in her seat, "Dreams?"

"Well, that's what some girls call their visions," Cordelia said. Emily wondered how she smiled for so long without her cheeks hurting. "At least, those inclined to them. They pass out and see a loved one in a car wreck or the answers on a test."

"My grandmother used to jest that when she dreamed something three times it would come true," Emily recalled. She quickly shook her head free of the thought. "But to say she saw the future…"

"What about you," Cordelia asked, "Do you have any strange dreams?"

She watched the brunette glance to the piles of books beside her on the bed, hands hovering over a journal. Emily pulled it to her, contemplating its existence. Her hand hovering over the cover before pulling away. "Fever dreams, maybe… but nothing prophetic."

"Fever dreams?"

"Dreams that don't function like dreams are supposed to."

"And how are dreams supposed to function?"

"… I don't know," Emily admitted, sighing and shaking her head. Instinctively, she brought the journal to her lap like a dragon hoarding its treasure. "But when my friends talk about their dreams… it's always reflective of reality. I've always been… creative so I thought I just had an overactive imagination."

Cordelia rose from her chair and slowly came to the bed. After carefully moving the books to the side she lowered herself beside the girl. "Tell me about your dreams."

Tentatively, Emily opened the first page. That journal was her mind, her most precious treasure. It was her everything.

Cordelia couldn't even glean something from the pages of that journal even if she wanted to. The brunette flipped through the pages so quickly that she could only see a few well-sketched images accompanying the text. Even then, it was gone before she could process what it was attempting to portray.

"One time I dreamed that I was burnt as a witch," Emily noted, finally settling on a page. Her hand hovered over the words, tracing each sentence like it was a map to buried treasure. "There was this small school trip in the early 1900s or late 19800s-"

This piqued Cordelia's interest. "You can pinpoint the years?"

"Sometimes. Usually depending on the dress and architecture. I was no older than 13 in the dream. They used a chain tied to branches to dangle me over a campfire…"

Emily turned to the woman ever slightly, hesitantly holding out the book for Cordelia to see the pictures. On the page, a girl was on her tip-toes, crying as she tried to keep her footing in some desperate hope to escape. The fire around her dashed those hopes and the girl turned her face to the sky in one last plea to the heavens.

The girl pulled back, flipping through more pages with more sketches. A sticky-note was pinned here and there with symbolic meanings or names that turned out to be so much more than a passing figure.

"Some are nonsense," Emily admitted, turning a bit more to the woman who looked at the book with her, "but they had themes which I thought would make a good story."

Cordelia leaned in as something caught her eye. Carefully, she pointed to a picture. "What about this one?"

The image displayed was of a boy, arms outstretched as if he were Christ himself. A halo surrounded his head of golden hair.

"That one was weird," Emily noted with a chuckle, "I remember the pictures more than anything. A boy practicing magic as a dark-haired woman stood watch…"

Cordelia could feel the power in the air shift as the girl spoke of her dreams. Once again, it was a spark… but it so wanted to become a flame. Cordelia could feel it.

"…she found me watching, but the boy told her to let me closer," Emily went on before shaking her head. She was letting herself get… hopeful? There wasn't quite a word for it. "But they're just dreams. Tools to aid my storytelling."

With a sigh, Emily rose from her spot, collecting more journals. It wasn't hard to tell they were all filled with dreams. Carefully, the brunette situated them on the bookcase, moving them around so they'd be in the proper order.

"What's the first dream you remember?" Cordelia asked.

"A nightmare. Standard kids' stuff."

"Such as?"

"Cannibal clowns," Emily said with a sigh, turning to face the woman. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. When was this conversation going to end? When would this woman realize that she wasn't special?

Cordelia's surprised face amused her. A small smile flickered to her lips and she shook her head. "I had older brothers that liked to scare me."

"I see…"

"…There was another one," the girl murmured. Her brows knitted as she stared at the floor. "a voice at the side of my crib… said I'd 'be free of it soon.' I thought it was my sister, but she was across the room with her friend."

"You were still in a crib?"

"Memories are faulty. Probably just a… false one."

Her pause told Cordelia everything. The words left unsaid filled in the blanks. 'Hopeful thinking' was what the girl had meant to say. It was written all over her face.

"Can I go home now?"

The comment pulled Cordelia out of her thoughts like ice water in the morning. "Go home?"

When she looked around the room, she found most of the boxes still piled in the corner, seals of tape unbroken.

"I'm not the girl you're looking for. Fever dreams aren't prophetic."

Cordelia rose from the bed, steeping forward ever slightly. Emily flinched as she placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

"I think you underestimate yourself."

Emily was quick to pull away, "Don't we all?"

"You uprooted yourself to come here," Cordelia reminded, watching as the brunette moved past her to organize her books again.

"I didn't have much of a choice."

"A choice none the less. They couldn't have forced you here."

The girl shook her head as she remembered the men that accompanied Zoe. They had stood on either side of the woman like marble statues, expressions unreadable. "They certainly seemed like they would."

Cordelia took another step towards the girl. She was evading. The blonde had done the same thing whenever her mother had come to visit.

"Part of you wanted to see what was the truth."

Emily's shoulders sagged as she looked at the book in her hand. The plot was the same as all the others — a main character found they were something more and went on a grand adventure.

"Everyone wants to be special," she said with a sigh, "I am no exception."

When she turned to Cordelia, the supreme saw the same defeat that had once been in her own eyes. Fiona had dropped her at this school without a word of warning. She was forced to navigate a world she had heard of but didn't understand

A sad smile came to her lips and she placed a hand once more on the girl's arm.

"Walk with me."

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Emily liked the gardens much more than she liked the house. They weren't vast, a few acres at best, but they were beautiful. Whatever aura the house had held was melted away by the sun. The warmth of it on her skin made the brunette feel like she was wrapped in a blanket before a fire. She had half the mind to just sit and bask in it.

Her new headmistress had another idea, leading her beyond the pretty flowers and trees as old as time itself. Emily didn't even notice the greenhouse until they were walking through the door. Ivy and chickweed climbed up the side, so thick they could have used it to climb up on the roof.

The fauna eclipsed the sun the second they stepped inside, a few beams of light here and there, just enough to see by. Cordelia was quite at ease, in her element. The chaotic arrangement of tools, fertilizer, and plants in a secret pattern only she understood.

"The light from which we draw our magic is at times like a science," the woman spoke. Emily stood on one end of a long wooden table while Cordelia circled to the other side, fingers ghosting over various tools scattered here and there. A few she plucked up, placing them to the side. "It doesn't look like magic, but can only be created by those who possess it."

Emily's brows furrowed as she regarded Cordelia with confusion. "Like the philosopher's stone?"

"For someone so convinced she is not a witch you certainly have done your research," the blonde said, looking up with a smile. Emily shifted uncomfortably, looking once more to the floor.

"I've always been fascinated by the occult." She said, "…plus that was more of a reference to Harry Potter."

Cordelia chuckled. Quietly. She gathered a few more materials. Emily watched her do so, averting her eyes whenever the blonde would look at her to hide her curiosity. Her mother always said it was rude to stare.

"I'd like you to try something," the woman finally proposed, clearing an area on the table and pulling up another stool. She gave it a pat. "If you're willing."

"Depends on what that something is."

"You're cautious. That's good. Many girls come here in hoping to conquer the world only to be met with ill results and often ill fates."

Pushing off the wall she had been leaning on, Emily made her way over. Scooting the stool a few more inches away from the woman, she finally sat down. Cordelia felt her eyes on her as she flipped through a box of recipes. She set a card between them on the table.

"The plants in this greenhouse are prone to fading either due to magic or neglect."

"You want me to bring them back to life?" Emily asked, voice incredulous.

"I want you to help bring them back to life." Cordelia noted, "if you're not a witch, the paste will have no effect. It will just be a collection of blended herbs and flowers."

Pulling the recipe towards her, green eyes flickered over the words.

"Seems easy enough."

Meticulously and carefully, Emily set to work. Her hands were steady and cautious. Cordelia never lent a hand but watched from a nearby stool. Every now and again she could see confusion on the girl's face. Her lips twisted or eyes narrowed, letting Cordelia see exactly what was going on in her head. The brunette never asked questions, but Cordelia gave her guidance from afar. Telling her things such as, 'roll the leaves instead of crush' or 'add more water to make it pasty.'

How Cordelia had managed to keep her white shirt stain-free was magic in and of itself. Green glop covered the brunette's hands and trailed up her arms. She was forced to use her shoulder to readjust her glasses when they slipped down her nose. After a half-hour of careful construction, the blender was full of a green paste that looked like a vegan swamp monster's morning smoothie.

"Now place it onto the stems of the plant… right where the stems meet the earth," Cordelia instructed, "then read the incantation on the back of the card."

Emily did what she was told, but as she flipped over the card, she felt foolish. Half of her expected to be on some hidden-camera show. There had to be a crew waiting to pop out and humiliate her for even thinking magic could be real.

She held out her hand because it felt right. That's what magic people do, right?

"Bagahi laca bachahe lumac cahi achabahe," She said, staring at the plant so intensely Cordelia half expected it to burst into flames, "Karrrelyos."

Nothing happened. The plants remained dry and wilted. The black lifeless stumps than looked more like skeletons than flowers.

"More intent," Cordelia encouraged, "Focus more on what the spell should do than what it says."

"I don't know what it says," Emily grumbled.

Cordelia smiled; frustration meant learning. "Good."

With a sigh, the brunette directed her attention back to the task at hand. God, she felt like an idiot.

"Bagahi laca bachahe," she repeated, closing her eyes. Cordelia watched as her fingers twitched in the air. "lumac cahi achabahe… Karrelyos."

The Supreme could feel the magic spark once more, but die just as it had before. Emily's magic was a cat trying to scratch its way out of an iron cage.

Emily opened one eye… then the other. The plant was still dead. How surprising.

"This is ridiculous," the brunette sighed, turning to face Cordelia. She would have put her hands on her hips, but they were covered in a quickly drying green glop. Instead, she pushed past the woman and to the sink, rinsing the offending substance off her arms. "I'm not a witch."

The sound of a creaking stool caught her attention and Emily looked up from her arms. Cordelia took two steps towards their science experiment.

A few moments of murmuring and the drooping remains of flowers turned up towards the sky. The black stems turned green, the color stretching from the earth until it reached the flower which spread out in a plume of yellow.

"If you're not a witch," Cordelia noted, turning to the girl with a victorious smile, "then why does the paste work?"

Her mouth opened and closed, unable to find the words as green became as wide as saucers. Magic. Magic was real. Emily's heart raced at the thought. It was real. It was real.

With a smile, Cordelia made her way towards the girl. Ignoring the way she tensed under her touch, the blonde placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

"You're a witch," she whispered, a grin pulling at her lips. She sounded as giddy as Emily felt. "You may not see it now, but time will reveal your potential."