Livingstone Academy was a peculiar school. The school stood as an old historic building in the middle of downtown. The site of the school was at least 20 acres big, with tall wrought iron gates with limestone bases. It was like stepping into another world whenever the gates for the school were open. The perfectly cut grass, the blooming floral; it was like the grounds were never out of its pristine condition regardless of the season. Livingstone Academy was where all wished to attend, but the admission to the school was selective.
Selective of the students that would attend, as Livingstone Academy was not a public school. It was as private as private schools could get while costing the amount of a boarding school. The teachers were all professionals of their fields, there was a three-star Michelin chef that runs the cafeteria kitchen, a private security firm contracted with only the school for the students' protection; it was the school that anyone who was anyone needed to attend.
The school was not without its own quirky nature. It was required of the students to wear the issued school uniforms and only use school-issued bags. However, there was not just one track of students. Livingstone Academy had two tracks, the majority of the students were on the first track while a smaller minority of students were on the second track. There were also two sets of uniforms for the students. The uniform worn by most students was colored in dark navy colors matched with a gray and red plaid. The school crest embroidered on the life in a silver thread. There was a matching-colored gym uniform. This uniform was always worn by the rich, famous, and powerful children that attend the school.
The second uniform was a cream-colored plaid with red accents. It was worn by a selection of students that most of the school did not understand. Students on this track were not from politically powerful families, from new money, nor were any of the students famous. Well, besides the Livingstone heiress, attending her family's school
The emancipated, orphaned heiress was the ideal star student of the school. The second track student president, who presided on the joint student council, and was an active participant in the Parent Teacher Student Association. She was fair, compassionate, and sociable with anyone who interacts with her. All the students, staff, and teachers knew who the Livingstone heiress was by appearance alone.
"Miss Livingstone," a voice called out. The teacher was an old crone at the front of the classroom with floating cards in front of her. "Explain the use of this spread."
Hazel eyes studied the floating cards that changed in front of her, her head tilted to the side. The rest of the class turned to the student in question, she answered, "It's the Healing Trauma spread created by the Coven of Wiccans following the Black Plague when this realm was quite literally plagued with too many spirits refusing to move onto whatever comes next. The spread was to ease the minds to weaken the bond between the living and the spirits for Wiccans to perform an exorcism or a cleansing of a spirit. For the reader, be it human or magical, the spread is an eight-step spread."
She raised her hand a rotated her wrist, and the first card lit up, "The Alpha card shows how the trauma that is not being let go is impacting their livelihood. The Beta card describes the emotions that are carried with that trauma. The Gamma card shows how it will affect their relationship with others. The Delta card shows how it reflects on how they see themselves. The Epsilon card on what energy they need to draw on to begin to release this trauma would be the wording for a magical citizen."
"And on a human?" The teacher said.
"On how they should conduct themselves to help release their trauma."
"Continue, Miss Livingstone." She nodded before the sixth card lit up.
"The Zeta card shows the lesson they must learn from holding in the trauma and the experience with the spread thus far. The Eta card on how to begin to move past it all. And then, there's the Theta card…" She paused just before the bell rang, but the teacher held her stare at the girl waiting for her to finish explaining the tarot spread. "The Theta card shows how their life will change as a result of releasing the trauma."
"Before any of you decide to go to the next witching raid, the Council of Priests and Priestesses will like to strongly urge all Wiccans to remember the consequences of summoning during the weeks coming up to the Samhain. It is dangerous and punishable by binding or death without cleansing. Dismissed, begone all of you."
The students on the second track her the Livingstone heiress by a different title: Ventus Custos, the Wind Guardian. A Wiccans gifted by Magick that uplifted her above all other Wiccans and magical citizens. Custos were powerful within the element they were blessed with, allowing them to manipulate the element without the use of an outlet or any spells.
The Livingstone heiress was not without power, prestige, or prosperity before her coming of age where she was blessed by Magick. If anything, the young Heiress was given more power and prestige since her coming of age. "Ventus Custos."
The girl in question turned to face the teacher, ignoring the snickering of her classmates as she walked and approached the front of the classroom. She curtsied before the teacher, giving her the traditional greeting, "Beati sitis, Madame Fenstermacher."
"Blessed be to you as well, Ventus Custos. It is to my understanding that you are leading the Thuban's patrol as of late."
"You are correct, Madame."
"And you are not happy with that, Custos?"
"Three times my squad has come together under the orders of the Thuban's High Priestess to subdue me if I were to interfere with demons who feast upon humans. I am starting to lose faith in the abilities of the Thuban to protect all citizens within their territory," It was painful to remember. By the time that she had subdued the squad she was patrolling with, the humans were dead. The orders of the High Priestess of Thuban had caused eleven deaths.
Custos were not just Guardians of magical citizens, but of humans in their territories too. She mourned for those eleven souls, and personally cleansed their spirits to move on. The younger Wiccan bowed her head, her heart still aches.
Arms circled around the Livingstone heiress, Madame Fenstermacher had mentored her before her status was elevated. She leaned into her hug as the tears from each painful patrol came back. "I'm sorry, Isabel Livingstone."
"Why would they hold me back? Do they not understand? How could they take the words of a High Priestess over a Custos?" She cried into the arms of her longtime mentor. Isabel was orphaned at a young age with no living family members and a dead coven. Madame Fenstermacher had just been hired at the Livingstone Academy. She was the only adult in her life that did not coddle her or pamper her. Madame Fenstermacher treated her as any Wiccans child, but she was a solitary Wiccans. Isabel needed a coven to stable her magic that seemed too powerful for her as a child. The Thuban Coven at the time was a right fit, but as the Coven grew after her coming of age, Isabel was starting to wonder if she should have just sworn solitary like Madame Fenstermacher. "It's like losing mother, father, and the Coven every night."
"Oh, little Enchantress," Madame Fenstermacher cooed. Outside of this embrace, Isabel was the face of Livingstone Academy. Her face was on every brochure and most of the websites for their school. She was the power behind the Thuban Coven. She was the youngest named Custos. The Isabel Livingstone that the outside world knew of was a strong Wiccan with a back made of titanium and was expected to have no fears or doubts.
But right now, all Isabel could feel was fear and doubt. Was the Coven she represented truly upholding Magick and what Wiccans stood for? Did she do something wrong and Magick was punishing her? How could they not feel grief after allowing so many deaths?
"Little Enchantress," Madame Fenstermacher crooned. "Remember what I said when we first met? To be Wiccan is to be a healer, teacher, seeker, giver, and protector of all things."
Isabel nodded. "I still believe you stole that line for a child's tale. But, I chose my path and I will honor you and your teachings by walking it with honor, light, and integrity."
"Now, don't you feel better? You shouldn't let yourself bottle up like that. Recharge yourself and give a prayer to your patrons before you go out. It is the week before Samhain, little Enchantress," Madame Fenstermacher said. "Take your apprentice with you on your patrol tonight. Go out and put those Wiccans in their proper places. Even the Custos need to have a little fun now and then."
"Yes, Madame Fenstermacher." Isabel said, curtsying when she left the warm embrace. She placed her hand on her forehead, and slowly moved it down to her chin whilst she chanted, "Obstrepat!"
Isabel charmed a glamour over her face to make it seemed like she didn't spend five minutes crying in a classroom before she walked out of the class. She had a picture-perfect image to uphold for everyone. If it looked like she was crumbling, she wasn't sure how the magical citizens would hand it. When the charm set, Isabel walked out the door and was immediately greeted by a number of different students sending her warm greetings. At the end of the hallways was her apprentice James, looking mildly uncomfortable. Isabel beamed at him. It was always so much fun for her to tease the normally serious boy. Isabel thought it was so funny that James was so studious in comparison to her own nature. The boy lived and breathed by the code of conduct written by people he never met before and followed their expectations to the letter.
Isabel hooked arms with the boy, who was staring at her beaming grin with hesitation. "We're going to have so much fun tonight."