Springtime in New Orleans was always warm, but the beaches seemed even hotter. The sand was hot enough to burn sensitive soles and stubby toes, but at the shoreline, where it was damp and compact, a trail of large and small footprints could be seen. The weather was beautiful, but no one was there sunbathing or swimming in the clear ocean water whose waves crashed against the shore with soft abandon. The sky was clear and azure, and the sun was high, shining and golden, illuminating the only four people on the beach—Chase, his wife Misty, and their two young daughters.

"Daddy, put me down," the younger daughter said in her small, petite-sounding voice. "I wanna go to the water."

"But you gonna get your dress all wet," her mother said. "You sure?"

"Yeah!" The little girl gave an excited squeal as her father struggled to set her back on her feet.

Once he did, he looked down at her and smiled grandly at her. The little girl he had been holding in his arms was Amy, his youngest daughter. His other daughter, Clara, had been walking between him and her mother, but his youngest was his focus at that moment. Chase could remember holding her the day she was born, light-colored wisps of hair on her head with large, sparkling eyes, cooing as she was swaddled in a baby pink blanket—now, she was five and would only keep blossoming in beauty as she grew older. Like her mother, she had curling, voluminous blonde hair that framed her exquisitely heart-shaped face well as it cascaded down her shoulders and blew in the sea breeze. Her eyes were, without a doubt, the focal point of her face—large, round, and vibrantly blue with full, black lashes framing them and giving her a cherubic look even as she squinted from the sun's rays.

"Alright, Amy," Chase told his daughter light-heartedly. "You can go play."

As the fair-haired little girl ran rapidly toward the water, both he and Misty smiled before sitting down on the sand to watch their older daughter join her little sister. Clara, at age eight, was not as spectacular in appearance as her younger sister but she was still beautiful in a mysterious way. With long, dark brown hair that was almost raven black, she was the most distinct in her immediate family. However, her face reminded Chase and Misty, along with most others, of a fine china doll with her smooth, white skin and full, light pink lips with a distinct cupid's bow on the upper. She was wearing denim Bermuda shorts with a blue and white-striped scoop neck t-shirt, holding her sandals in her hand before setting them down next to her parents seated on the hot, scorching sand.

"Are you gonna go with your sister?" her mother asked.

"Yeah, ma," she said, sprinting over toward where the waves were crashing and her little blonde sister sloshed her small hands in the blue-green salt water. "INCOMING!"

Chase and his wife shared a moment of laughter as they watched their daughters stand in the water and slosh their hands in its sheer coolness; after a few seconds, he turned his face to look at his wife. The two had been married for nine years; most people around them had the mindset that married couples lost interest in each other, but Chase knew in his heart that he would love Misty forever and forever be by her side as her loyal husband and best friend. To him, she was somewhat ethereal and fairy-like, attuned with nature and down-to-earth like no other person he had ever known. Her curly fair hair, once adorned by black feathers, was pulled back stylishly with a silver dream catcher-styled clip. Her outfit consisted of a black maxi half-skirt that went to her knees and a top that was a loose-fitting, royal purple camisole that accentuated her figure nicely. Layered necklaces, her signature accessory besides bohemian-styled bangles, hung from her neck and were at different styles and lengths. He could see that her clear, kind blue eyes focused on their daughters and the gentle wash of the shore their small feet were immersed into. He took this chance to give her sudden peck on the cheek and wrap his arms around her, pulling her close and inhaling her sweet, earthy patchouli and myrrh perfume.

"I love you, Misty," he cooed lovingly. His wife giggled and rested her head against him, sighing as the breeze gently kissed their faces.

"I love you, too," she said softly, looking back into his eyes.

Chase, even at age forty, looked like a young man—he had the heart of a child and no cares in the world except for his family and friends. He was a loving father and an affectionate husband, which Misty appreciated so much. When she first met him, he had dark blonde hair; over the years of being married, it had darkened almost to a brown shade. His eyes were youthful and ever so clear; colorlessly gray with a plethora of feelings hidden behind them. Chase was always lean and lanky-figured, but there was one feature about him that she had seen past and into his soul—his severe ectrodactyly, which left his hands deformed to resemble crab claws with only a thumb and a finger with the palm split down the middle slightly. It had always been his greatest insecurity, but after a turning point in his life, he no longer felt the need to hide it under the gray mittens gifted to him by the foster mother of he and his fraternal twin sister, Julie—she had been a social worker at their orphanage who had taken special care of them, raising them like her own children. Suddenly, the squeals of their daughters caught Misty's full attention.

"Get 'im! He's gonna get away!" Clara called out, her hands plunged into the ocean water past the shoreline.

"I'm tryin'!" her little blonde sister said, her skirt soaked as she sat on her knees in the water, outstretched to grab whatever caught their attention. Misty looked to her husband, who also was watching them, and saw the excitement in his face as his bare feet sprinted over to the shoreline to meet his daughters.

"What did you find?" he asked with a chuckle.

"It was a little crab," Clara said; she looked at her sister's smiling face as the skirt of her dress ballooned in the water as she remained on her knees.

"It's so cute!" Amy squealed.

Suddenly, Chase looked down at his feet to see a small, crawling crustacean with an outer shell a bright orange merged with a white underbelly. Its six sturdy legs moved it along the damp, compact sand as the waves continued to lap at Chase and his two daughters, its black, button-like eyes jutting up to see where it was going before little Amy crawled out of the water and toward the bright orange crab they had been searching for.

"There it is!" she exclaimed happily.

"Amy, it'll bite you," Chase warned softly, crouching down to his knees to try and catch the snapping crustacean as he felt the presence of his wife walk behind him. Clara, with her inquisitive blue eyes, looked up at Misty and smiled.

"What'd y'all find over here?" her mother asked, crouching down and peering past her husband's shoulder to see that he had successfully picked up the petite crab into his split, malformed hands. Chase giggled at the ticklish feeling of the crab crawling on him, but his daughters watched in fascination to notice that its claws were not tempted to pinch at their father's skin.

"Why don't it bite you?" Clara asked, her eyes directed at her father as her dark hair blew softly in the wind. He looked back at her and then to Amy, who had an adorable pout on her exquisite face.

"Can we keep him?" Amy asked in her petite-sounding voice.

"No, no, darlin'. He lives here," Misty said sweetly, encouraging the love of nature into her daughters.

"Aw, please?" little Amy begged, holding her hands together.

"Amy," Misty said, holding her arms out to welcome her daughter into them. She nestled against her as she continued; "I think the crab would be pretty sad bein' away from his family in the sea. Don't you, too?"

"Yeah…" Her daughter nodded and frowned sadly. Misty moved some of her daughter's curls away from her face as they watched the small, dainty crab prance rapidly on her father's disfigured hands without pinching him or showing signs of hostility. Clara gazed at the small spectacle curiously, wondering why and repeated the question her father had been too distracted to answer.

"Daddy, why is it not biting you?" she asked. Chase smiled at his daughter as she drew closer onto the damp, packed sand at the shore.

"Because he's just like me," he said softly, peering down at the bright orange exoskeleton of the crustacean and cooing at it as if it were a baby in his arms.

Their two daughters looked at the severity of his deformity and how the crab seemed to dance on his split palms in circles.

At Miss Robicheaux's Academy for Exceptional Youth not far from the French Quarter of New Orleans, Eleonora and Cordelia were walking through the grand atrium in front of the staircase discussing the current state of affairs concerning the students of the prestigious "boarding school"—in actuality, it was a safe haven for young witches of all walks of life and both genders. The school first went public with their status ten years before, just when Cordelia became the Head of the Council of Witchcraft and a powerful witch rose to the supremacy. Eleonora had been a student herself, but at age twenty-nine, she was a respected member who had been appointed to the council during the same time.

"What a long day it's been," Cordelia said, her large, black sunglasses shielding her scarred blind eyes from view. However, she was able to see using the gift of Second Sight, which not only allowed her to clearly see what she was doing but also into the past and future. Eleonora, who walked beside her, looked at her and slowed down her walking.

"I can't wait to get out of these heels," she answered.

"I know how you feel," Cordelia sighed. "Have you seen Queenie?"

"Not since this morning," Eleonora said. "She was teaching the students descensum."

"I don't think we will be performing the Seven Wonders for a long time to come," the older blonde woman said doubtfully, using her Second Sight to see Eleonora perfectly clear. "Your sister is an excellent Supreme."

Eleonora had not been powerful enough to rise to the supremacy ten years before, at least not to the degree of her much-older sister Julie. Yet she was not as weak as their brother Chase, either—he was Julie's twin and unlike her, he was affected by inbreeding. The youngest of the three, Eleonora, was conceived by what most would call normal circumstances even though she never considered herself truly normal on the inside. As a pupil at Miss Robicheaux's, she was reluctant to believe she had any powers and that she was a witch; the years had given her the realization that things were not going to change. She was what she was even if she only used her powers in moderation. Eleonora was also attractive as a woman with long, light blonde hair that was straight with bangs, verdant eyes with a faint luster, and soft fair skin. As a pupil, she had a generous amount of freckles covering the bridge of her nose—those had faded to allow a more mature appearance of her cut, serene features and narrow nose.

Even her style of dress had evolved from hoodies and jeans to business casual—being a member of the council meant having to dress in good taste. Eleonora had chosen a dress with a burnt sienna top that made her look professional with lithe, straight shoulders and good posture, and a skirt that was black and form-fitting around her curves. As a pupil, she was lanky without many curves; now, as an adult and fully of age, she had developed more curves, especially around her hips. Cordelia had seen her progress as a witch, and was proud of her.

"It's good to teach them something they will eventually and inevitably use," Eleonora said, giving her personal opinion. "In fact, these students need to learn as much as they can."

"Yes, you are right, Eleonora," Cordelia said. "I just don't think it'll be used any time soon is all."

"At least she is only teaching the more powerful of our pupils," the younger blonde woman stated. "As we know, descensum can be quite dangerous." Because my mother died that way, she thought to herself in a fleeting frame of mind.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps caught their attention, and as the two turned to the direction of the source, Eleonora could see it was Queenie, a longtime member of the coven and former pupil. Morbidly obese and sassy, she was dubbed "the human voodoo doll" by the other witches because she was able to transfer pain from her body to someone else without actually harming herself in the process. She also claimed a lineage to Tituba, one of the first tried for witchcraft in Salem's witch trials of 1692. She had dark skin and coarse, black, curly hair flamboyantly styled like a lion with its mane. Even at twenty-nine years of age, she had not lost a lot of weight—her face was still extremely pudgy, and she had fuller lips than most of the other female witches in the coven. She was known for her fashion sense, as she was wearing a rainbow leopard-print top that was far from flattering, and a pair of black leggings with colorblock ballet flats that had a shiny, gold-tone buckle at the toes. She seemed out of breath, which concerned the other two witches as she approached them with her large self.

"What happened?" Cordelia asked with concern. Queenie took another deep breath, straightening her back and allowing her large front to protrude.

"That descensum lesson wore me out," she said wearily. "I had to see my old job over and over."

"Well," Eleonora said. "That's hell for you."

"No shit," Queenie said. "I'm starving."

"Julie's planned a dinner for all of us," Cordelia reminded her. "Herb-roasted chicken, string beans, mashed potatoes, and peach cobbler for dessert."

The obese witch's eyes widened.

"I love peach cobbler!" she exclaimed. "Is it ready?

"Whoa, whoa," Eleonora said. "Slow down, there. No food until Chase and Misty come with the kids."

"Oh yeah," Queenie scowled. "I don't wanna wait though. I'm hungry."

Soon, more footsteps came to the witches' ears—this time, it sounded light as a feather, and they noticed it was Zoe, another longtime member of the coven and former pupil. Like Misty, Zoe had also gotten married, but to Kyle and even took his last name as her own. At thirty, she was the mother of a son and still as angelically beautiful as she was ten years before. Her hair was long, straight, and a richly-colored brown. Her eyes were large and doe-like with a distinct, mysterious sparkle in them. She had rosy lips, a pink blush in her cheeks, full eyelashes, and a heart-shaped face that added to her physical grandeur. Even though the current Supreme had lifted the policy of it being mandatory to wear all-black, Zoe still preferred it even though she owned clothing of all colors and styles. At that moment, she was wearing a long black dress with a corset-like, laced belt at the waist with matching boots and a wide-brimmed hat; Zoe loved her hats.

"Hey there, Zoe," Eleonora said. "All done for the day?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I mean, I have the novices. They're a pain but…they have to learn how to control their powers."

"Well, we can all sit down for a meal soon," Cordelia said. "Let's go find Julie."

They began to walk, and she continued to speak. "Have you seen her?"

"Not since noon, no," Zoe said.

"I haven't seen her since yesterday," Eleonora said.

"You and me both," Queenie added.

They all took their time walking into the ancestry room, a parlor of sorts that had Greek-style columns and a white stone fireplace with fire burning several pieces of wood. The furniture perfectly matched the walls and color scheme of the room, and it was quite luxurious and as much so as the crystal chandelier hanging above the sofa, lounge chairs, and coffee table. Ivory drapes adorned the antique glass windows, and a desk that matched the room was against the wall between the windows with picture frames hung up. Their eye was caught by the sight of a striking woman sitting on one of the lounge chairs nearest the coffee table; sweet incense was burning in the air, and it was completely silent. The other witches made sure to not make so much noise as the woman sat, her shadowed eyes closed in a state of trance.

Eleonora immediately knew who it was—Julie, the coven's Supreme and a powerful witch with a spiritual undertone to her craft. It also was her sister, yet they did not look alike; Julie was forty but looked as youthful as ever. She had striking, albeit unusual features for a beauty such as she; white-blonde hair, smooth pale skin the color of the moon, and a tall stature that evenly distributed her generous, womanly curves. The witches sat down quietly and saw her dressed in a long-sleeved sage green dress that went to just below her knees and it was cinched at the waist with a rope-cord belt holding an empty pouch. Her shoes were simple tan boots with a thick heel that reached the ankles, and she was adorned with Norse-inspired accessories and several amulets that served her purpose well. Eleonora watched as her older sister seemed to toss peculiar, but familiar stones like dice as they fell on the table.

They sure sounded like dice, and that was the moment Julie opened her soulful, deep gray eyes and peered down at the strange letters from an ancient alphabet—the witches watched the Supreme divine her daily prophesy. She's late today, thought Cordelia.

"I heard you come in," the Supreme said softly.

"We were looking for you," Eleonora said. "I haven't seen you since yesterday."

"I took a chunk of the pupils out to town today," Julie answered.

"That explains it," Cordelia said.

A moment of silence came among them as Julie looked down and got a vision, looking at her younger sister vivaciously.

"Laguz," she said. "The rune of love…of water…uncertainty."

"Huh?"

"Yes, I'm talking to you, sis," Julie said. "I see a new direction in your love life." Eleonora looked down before answering, biting her lower lip. She's always right, she thought, but I've never been lucky in love. Not since Diego.

"What do you mean?" her sister asked.

"There's a man coming into your life," Cordelia said. "But my Second Sight tells me that you must take action yourself."

"He could be stuck in a tree or something," Queenie joked—Zoe elbowed her and the two laughed softly. The incense fuming up into the air smelled sweet, like fruit or some kind of flower—Eleonora could not make out what it was.

"It is not yet manifest," Julie said. "Cordelia's right."

"You can't see his face?" Eleonora asked.

"No, it isn't clear," Julie replied, looking down at the other rune that came up in the spread. "Perthro says he is unknown to you…a stranger."

"A stranger?" Zoe asked curiously. "That must be exciting news, then. Someone new."

"Someone new is always good, but…uh," the Supreme said, taking her runes and collecting them to put back into the pouch tied to her belt—Eleonora cut into her sentence just as she was about to continue.

"Julie, you're out of your mind," she said objectively. "I'm not lucky in love. Never have been. I'm a wallflower."

"Eleonora, don't be negative. Remember what I told you about that," the Supreme said sagely. "If anything, take this advice and store it in your mind. The beginning and end are set. What's in between is yours. Like Cordelia and I said, you have to be the one to take action. Start by realizing your potential. You are powerful. You can attract someone to you."

Eleonora remained quiet, but Julie turned her eyes to the other witches.

"Have Chase and Misty called yet?" she asked. "We are expecting them for dinner."

"They will be here soon," Cordelia answered. "I'm sure they'll call in an hour."

Ding-Dong…

Ding-Dong…

At the sound of the doorbell, none of the witches moved—it was Kyle's, Zoe's husband and the academy's butler, job to answer the door for visitors. Julie, Eleonora, Zoe, and Queenie looked to the doorway, but it was Cordelia and her ability of Second Sight who detected the identities of the visitors, smiling before the sound of small feet pitter-pattered against the atrium's stone floor.

"They're here."

Suddenly, the sight of Chase and Misty entering the ancestry room caught their attention—Julie, a very tall woman, towered over the two little girls running into the room with open arms and smiled down at Clara, her long dark hair flowing down her girlish form as the Supreme leaned to hug her nieces.

"Aunt Julie!" Amy exclaimed as Julie held her close in a hearty embrace on one arm while hugging Clara in the other.

"Sweetie! Hi!" the older woman said kindly with excitement, kissing the smooth cheek of her younger niece before accepting a kiss on the other cheek by the dark-haired Clara.

"Auntie, how ya been?" the older girl asked.

"I've been doing," Julie smiled, letting them go and standing up to see them wander to their other aunt, Eleonora, who gave both girls embraces of equal time length.

"Hello, sweetie," the blonde woman said, blowing a playful raspberry on Amy's cheek.

"Hehe!" she giggled.

"And how are you, little miss Clara?" Eleonora asked with a playful smile.

"We almost got a baby crab at the beach today," the dark-haired girl said with a smile.

"You did?"

"We did," Chase said, childlike wonder in his colorless gray eyes as he leaned down to kiss his younger sister on the cheek before giving Julie, his fraternal twin, a tight hug. She looked down at him and parted her lips in a smile. Eleonora realized how awkward the moment was—Julie was very tall for a woman, standing at five foot-nine with her shoes adding height to her buxom form.

"He was so cute!" little Amy squealed, her intensely blue eyes staring at her aunts before joining her sister to greet the other witches who received them well as they always did.

It was at that moment Kyle stepped into the room; he had always dressed in a suit and tie to signify his position at the prestigious academy, and he had brassy blonde curls clipped close to his head with penetrating dark brown eyes and a handsome face even at age thirty-one. Once a college student with aspirations to be an engineer, he was killed in a bus crash caused by one of the academy's witches, Madison Montgomery, who had been killed by him years before after she refused to revive Zoe during the Seven Wonders trial when she accidentally transmutated onto the gate only to be impaled by a spike. With the help of Eleonora, Madison and Zoe were able to sneak into the morgue and revive an assembled corpse that had become his own even though some of his body parts weren't even his. Upon resurrection, he was a simple-minded creature with the mentality of a young child, but the current Supreme had organized a ritual that would kickstart his mental abilities so he could function normally again. Now, ten years later, he was fully spruced—he was his normal self again as he was before death. Keeping good posture and holding a towel in his folded arm, he looked at Julie and smiled.

"Dinner is served, Miss Julie," he said politely.

A/N:

The OC's from the Britta/Elina/Eleonora storyline are back and better than ever! I hope you guys like where I take this. I got inspired fairly recently, so bear with me.

Please leave feedback, I'd love to see what you guys think. If you'd like, Favoriteand Follow!

Thanks so much guys! Happy reading/writing! :3