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All Hartes Day is a festival dedicated to honoring all children of age in the Harte Kingdom. Once the sun sets, the children gather in the Great Hall of Mollian, where they are magically gifted one of two things: a grimoire, signaling their acceptance to Harte Coven for Witches and Wizards, or a singular wand, proof of entrance to the Harte Faery Academy. The opposing student bodies have been at each other's throats for ages. And if Margery Blackwoode can't unite the two schools in time, her home of Harte Kingdom will have a lot more than just opposing differences to deal with.

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✢ 1

â±®argery awoke to a servant pulling back the curtains of her bedroom. The light shone through, bright and blinding, pulling the sleeping Fae from her slumber.

"Good morning Missus Margery!" Spoke the servant girl cheerfully, aged around nine or ten. Her hair was done up in a cute little ponytail, wisps of pale lilac hair dangling down on the sides of her chubby little face.

"Good morning" Replied Margery, who couldn't seem to remember the servant girl's name for the life of her. The little girl helped Margery out of bed and led her to the bathroom.

The tub was three-quarters full of hot steamy water. It felt nice and relaxing, and Margery couldn't help but sigh in relief as she stretched out in the marble tub.

The servant girl came back in with a towel around forty minutes later and helped dry her off. She walked back into her room, glancing at her nude self in the mirror. She didn't look 15, breasts still the same size as last year, arms thin and skinny, small waist and hips. Her long honeyed colored hair hung down in waved down her back.

With a sigh, Margery began to dress. She tugged on the small pale pink dress, smoothing it out so that it rested right above her knees. The small servant girl helped her into her pink strappy kitten-heeled shoes.

Another servant entered the room then, looking slightly bedraggled. Margery knew this to be her most regular servant, a middle-aged Fae whose name was Freesia.

"You look lovely this morning Miss Margery," Said Freesia, bowing politely as she pulled the small girl by the ear. "I'm sorry for any inconvenience this one might have caused 'ya"

Margery daintily waved her away. "I quite enjoyed her presence this morning". The words were honest and true. Rarely was Margery allowed around girls her own age, and she often had to settle for the company of other Fae of her social class (which she could count on one hand).

"See?!" Said the tiny servant girl, pointing at Margery and then back to Freesia. "I told you I could be a big help. I got the Missus ready all by myself!"

Freesia lightly smacked the girl atop her head. Small purple flowers fell from her hair, magically out of seemingly thin air, and decorated the floor. "None of that now Clematis. Now go down and see if the other girls need help with breakfast while I do Miss Margery's hair"

So her name was Clematis. Good to know. Margery willed herself not to forget.

Clematis looked a little put-out by the order but left to do as she was told.

Freesia gently led Margery to the vanity and began to style her hair. "Are you excited about today Miss?"

Margery smiled, a grin stretching from ear to ear happily. "Very much so, yes". It wasn't every day someone turned 15 after all.

"To think that in a few months you'll get your fae wand at the All Harte's Day festival," Sighed Freesia wistfully, parting Margery's hair into two sections as she began to braid. "My how the time flies. I remember when you were just a wee little thing, about this high"

Freesia paused here, and held the brush down to the floor, to signify the height in which she had first met Margery. Then she continued chattering about, but Margery couldn't focus on her words.

There was...a noise. A light shrill sounding thing, distant, but once Margery picked up on it, it became louder and louder. So loud, that she cut off Freesia's recounting of Margery's third birthday party and screamed.

"Miss, whats-?"

Margery screamed again, falling down to the floor, and held down her ears. Wakeupwakeupwakeup, screamed the noise, getting higher and higher in pitch.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the noise went away. Margery lay there on the floor, shaking.

Freesia then led her to the dining room, where her parents were waiting. Margery made her promise beforehand to not speak of the incident that had occurred earlier. Freesia looked torn between being her Mistress and telling someone right away. However, all it took was Margery's blue eyes, shiny with tears, for Fressia to choose. She would obey, she said, but if she saw something like that again, she would tell her mother.

Her mother immediately stood and walked over elegantly to place a kiss on her daughter's cheek. Her blond hair was done up neatly in a bun, showcasing her sharp cheekbones and beautifully sloping nose. "Happy birthday my sweet Margery"

Margery beamed with pride. "Thank you, mother!"

"Inside voice my dear" Gently prodded her mother, tapping her shoulder. Margery winced and glanced down at her shoes sheepishly.

"Sorry, mother. I forgot again" Her mother graced her with another nod, signally that all was forgiven (weird- usually she would have gotten a lecture about it), and walked back to the table, where her father sat waiting.

He stood up to greet her, manifesting a crown of pinkish Daylilies. As per Fae tradition, he spoke a few words of growth and promise before placing the crown down upon her head. "May you grow to be a promising Fae, ever strong and ever-powerful"

Margery bowed down to her father, accepting the crown. "May I grow to be a-"


She stopped talking and immediately went to cover her ears. Her father rose his eyebrow at her, prompting her to continue. But she couldn't. The noise returned, ten-fold, so loud and shrilling that she had no choice but to cower into a little ball and wish for it to go away.

Somewhere along the lines, she had screwed her eyes shut. When she deemed it safe enough to open again, Margery noticed two things.

One, she was no longer in their elegant dining room.

And two, a woman stood above her, arms crossed, stern frown upon her face.

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