Chapter Text
Campinas, São Paulo, September of 1998
Miss Cassandra was a very strange woman. She’s been living in the same neighborhood in Campinas, a city in the state of São Paulo, for more than 60 years, which wouldn’t be so weird if she didn’t look like she couldn’t be a day over 30. She was a tall woman, with dark skin, long and wavy black hair, and warm brown eyes that seemed to shine with an unknown power. Though she looked very young, her eyes had that wisened look to them, as if she had been around the world for a very long time. Her teeth were perfectly aligned and pearly white, her posture was perfectly straight and she walked with firm yet graceful steps wherever she went, her heels clicking against the floor. She didn’t wear much makeup, other than mascara and red lipstick, and she would often wear long and flowy dresses that twirled as she spins around, laughing in her loud and contagious cackle of hers, and smiling in a way that could light up the whole room.
She lived alone in a large house with Midnight, her pet raven, and called herself a Seer, claiming to have powers beyond mere mortals’s imaginations, yet she made a living telling people’s fortunes, by reading their palms, tarot cards, or looking into a crystal ball in her dilapidated Dodge A100 van, which she often drove to a nearby park so that she could read the fortune of the people passing by. She also had a weird sense of humor, a mix of absurdist jokes with lowly insults that she reserved only to the people she considered herself close to. When asked about her age, she would often say she was old enough to have met Leonardo Da Vinci, played soccer with the severed head of King Louis XVI, and to have helped Santos Dummond invent the plane. Of course, most people thought she was just joking, and that she was just a fraud.
The only people who did believe her were the people of Cambuí, the neighborhood where she lived, for they had seen her around for many years, and could attest that she hadn’t aged a day in those 60 years she lived there. People who had been children when she moved in were now elderly, and their children and grandchildren had seen the same Miss Cassandra on her van, and many had their fortunes read by her, and it was common knowledge that whatever fortune she read for you would eventually come to pass. Miss Cassandra was a mystery herself, nobody knew who her parents were (or even if she’d ever had any), where she’d come from or where she’d been, though she had a slight northeastern Brazilian accent. Nobody could explain how she kept so young even though she’d been alive for at the very least, 90 years. Over time, the people of Cambuí started to gossip, whispering among themselves that Miss Cassandra had surely made a deal with the Devil, that she had sold her soul in exchange for her powers and for eternal youth, and it wasn’t long until people started calling her a witch.
On the other hand, all the people who got over their initial apprehension could generally agree that Miss Cassandra was a very kind woman. She comforted people who were grieving, she listened to their problems and offered advice when they came to her van, she babysat children of solo parents for free, she volunteered at a home for the elderly, and made the most delicious foods that she would distribute to the homeless, and share what was left with her neighbors. And, a couple of years ago, she had taken in her recently orphaned nephew, a 16 year old boy named Ângelo, which cemented most people’s opinion on Miss Cassandra’s good nature.
Some people loved her, some people feared her, but every single person of Cambuí respected her, and those who didn’t would quickly learn why you shouldn’t cross a witch. It was rare that Miss Cassandra used her powers for evil, but when she did, it was said she could ruin every single aspect of your life until you came crawling to her and begged her for forgiveness. Of course, this was a very rare occurrence, as the people of Cambuí knew better than to challenge or doubt Miss Cassandra, and even the ones who feared her also respected her power.
On this particular day, Cassandra had just finished reading the fortune of her last client for the day, and was driving back home in her Van, listening to 80s music in the radio, singing loudly and off-key to herself. As she drives into her street and slows down the car, she sees her elderly neighbor, Dona Rosa, saying goodbye to her daughter Lucinda and her son in law Pedro, who were getting into their car.Cassandra’s eyes seem to become clouded by a yellowish gleam for a few seconds, and her expression morphs into one of horror. She unbuckles her seat-belt and practically runs towards Lucinda and Pedro.
— Wait, stop! You shouldn’t go right now, something horrible will happen if you leave.
— What? Who are you? — Pedro asks, protectively pulling Lucinda behind him, his hand hovering towards his belt, where he usually kept his gun when he was on duty.
— It's okay, love, it’s just Miss Cassandra, she’s our neighbor — Lucinda quickly explains, and Pedro relaxes.
— She’s a witch, that what she is. Don’t pay her no mind, Pedro, she probably just wants to bewitch you — Dona Rosa says venomously.
Pedro turns to his mother in law, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
— A witch, Dona Rosa? Really? Aren’t you a little old to…
— Ay, i’m old all right, but believe me, this devil woman has lived here ever since I was a little girl, and she hasn’t aged a day in all that time. She’s made a deal with the Devil, I tell you — Dona Rosa says, holding onto her cross necklace.
— There is no Devil. And there is no God either. There are only the powers that be, and those of us who can wield them — Cassandra replies firmly, and her calm voice makes a shiver run down Pedro's spine. — Ignore my advice if you wish to, but know i’m only trying to warn you because I care. There’s going to be an accident on the road to your house, and if you get in that car right now, you will lose something precious you aren’t even aware you have.
Those words seem to be enough to silence the three mortals, who stare at her in shock. Cassandra turns away from them and start walking back to her car, only to be stopped by Pedro’s hand on her shoulder.
— Wait… I’ll listen to your advice, we can wait here for another half hour. Would that be safe enough? — The tall police officer says.
Cassandra’s eyes become glazed again for a few seconds, before they return to their normal brown, and she nods silently.
— Thank you — Pedro says, turning back to Dona Rosa’s house.
Cassandra gives him a polite nod before walking towards her own house. She unlocks the door with her set of keys and walks in, closing and locking the door behind her. Midnight instantly lands on her shoulder, looking at her with his dark red eyes.
— Bitch! — The raven says, looking into her eyes.
— Quoth the raven “bitch”, that’s a new turn on dear old Poe’s book. I should wash out your mouth with soap, you foul mouthed little sh*t.
— If you didn’t want me to swear, you shouldn’t have taught me all those swearwords — The raven replies, his voice sounding much closer to human in a deep cadence, blinking at her.
— Well, and if you want your treats, you will be more respectful — Cassandra says, as the raven settles down on her shoulder.
She walks into her living room to find her nephew with a book spread on the floor in front of him, four pebbles floating in the air in front of his extended hand, his eyes and fingertips glowing with an orange light. She recognizes the large tome instantly as her Grimoire, with its hard cover engraved with runes and with an onyx stone at the center.
— Hey, kiddo — Cassandra says, startling Ângelo, who yelps as he turns to look in her direction, the marbles falling on the floor in front of him, where one of them shatters.
Ângelo looks a lot like Cassandra, though his hair is thicker and more curly, his skin is a few tones darker, and his eyes lack the shine of an experienced magic user and the wisened look of someone who has lived through the centuries.
— Yeesh, auntie, you scared me — He says, looking relieved as he notices it’s just Cassandra, who is now laughing at his scared face.
— Sorry, Ângelo, i thought you’d have heard me close the door. Are you practicing the levitation spell? — She asks, and Ângelo nods.
— Yeah, but it’s hard. — The teen says with a frown — You can lift a whole car 32 feet from the floor all by yourself , and I can barely lift four pebbles. And, ah, sh*t, one of them broke.
— Language, kid — Cassandra says half-heartedly, she knew her nephew, like Midnight, had learned all his swearwords from her — I know it’s frustrating, but that’s normal, it's how it was for me when I was just starting to learn magic. It took me a lot of training to be able to get to where I am now.
— Why is it so hard at the start, then? Shouldn’t it always be easy? — Ângelo asks.
— Not really. Magic is sorta like a muscle, you have to train frequently to develop your strength and be able to use it well. Once you start getting the hang of it, it only gets easier, I promise. — Cassandra says, kneeling by his side and waving her hand, and the shattered pieces of the broken marble merge back perfectly together, as if it had never been broken.
Midnight chooses that moment to fly down and grab one of the marbles in his mouth, but soon spits it out, making a gagging sound.
— Ugh, disgusting, what kind of f*cking treat is that? — He says, coughing.
— I thought familiars were supposed to be smart — Ângelo says, looking at Cassandra.
— They are, this one must have been late at the brain distribution department — Cassandra says, to an outraged squawk from Midnight, before she turns back to Ângelo — Now, keep practicing. I’ll go take a shower and then i’ll make us some dinner. How do you feel about spaghetti?
— That’s my favorite, thanks, aunt Cass — Ângelo says, smiling at her.
Cassandra just chuckles and ruffles her nephew’s hair affectionately, before walking to her suite bathroom, and taking a refreshing shower. Once she’s done, she puts on her pajamas, wraps has hair in a towel, and goes to the kitchen, where she starts preparing the spaghetti, using her magic to make the ingredients float around and prepare themselves before going into the pot. It’s easy, and fun, and it brings a smile to her face as she dances around the kitchen. After they eat, Cassandra sets the dishes to wash themselves with a simple cleaning spell, and sits down with Ângelo by the kitchen table to help him with his homework, insisting that he has to finish it even though he is a “wizard in training”.
— Come on, Aunt Cass, why do I need to learn Math for? It’s so boring, and it’s not like it’s gonna be important in my life. — Ângelo complains.
— Oh yeah? And what will you do when you grow up? — Cassandra replies, raising an eyebrow and looking at him.
— I’ll be a wizard and a seer, like you. — He says with a winning smile, but Cassandra isn’t convinced.
— Sure, kid, but you still have to learn the common subjects. — Cassandra says — How do you expect to have mortals believe in your readings if you can’t even know the basic of their subjects?
— What does that even have to do with anything? — Ângelo asks.
— And here I thought wizards were supposed to be smart. If you don’t… — Midnight starts to say, but is silenced by a look from Cassandra.
— It has to do with the fact that mortals don’t trust magic easily. — The seer replies with a shrug — They are always ready to doubt the truth of my visions or my powers, even if they are seeing it by themselves. If you can’t make them believe you’re as smart as them, then they’ll never take you seriously.
— But that’s stupid, learning math has nothing to do with reading tarot cards or looking into a crystal ball, or moving objects with my mind. — Her nephew argues.
— You’re right, it doesn’t. — She replies casually — But mortals will always try to believe you’re a fraud, they’ll always try to find a logical explanation for whatever you can make in front of them. Even if you possess them, they are more likely to convince themselves that it was a cheap hypnosis trick than to actually admit they saw magic.
— Why is it that mortals are so difficult to convince? — Ângelo asks, tilting his head to the side in thought.
— I don’t know, they just are. Before my father gave me the Grimoire and had me read the Sacred Ritual to unlock my magic, I always wondered if maybe he was just faking his power, even after seeing it first handedly. I guess we are just so used to seeing magic presented to us as something fantastical, impossible and unreal, that unless we’re the ones doing it, we will always doubt it, one way or another.
— Mortals are weird — Ângelo frowns.
— Says the teenager who was a mortal up until he came live with me. Now, come on, no more dillydallying, write down the quadratic formula again — Cassandra says, tapping his journal with her finger.
— Uuuugh, I hate math — Ângelo complains, but starts writing it down.
***
A couple of weeks later, Cassandra receives a beautiful bouquet of flowers, with a thank you note from Pedro and Lucinda, telling her they saw the aftermath of the accident on their way back home that night, and that they just found out Lucinda was pregnant. If they had been involved in the accident, she might have lost the baby, or they all might have died.
***
Dona Rosa never trusted Cassandra completely, still convinced that the younger-looking woman had sold her soul to the devil, and that God would send her to Hell when she inevitably died, but at least after that she stopped being outright hostile towards Cassandra, and she started to wonder if even powers from hell could be used for good.Her church’s pastor always told her that all magic was evil and belonged to the devil, but if that was the case, why had Cassandra warned them about the impeding accident that would have taken her daughter’s life? Why would she have tried to keep them safe? And, several months later, when her granddaughter Miranda was born, Dona Rosa felt that maybe, just maybe, Magic wasn’t all that bad as her pastor had always said.
***
Campinas, São Paulo, May of 1999
It was quiet and dark in the nursery where little Miranda Carvalho slept, the one month old baby undisturbed by the raven that watched her from the open window. The baby had the same dark skin as her mother Lucinda, though what little hair she had was black like her father’s, and would probably be curly as well. After a few minutes of listening, the familiar flies back to his witch, who was waiting for him outside the Oliveira family’s house at two in the morning.
— It's all clear. The baby is sound asleep, and so are her parents.
— Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we? — Cassandra smiles, and swiftly teleports to Miranda’s room and, for safe measure, casts a sleeping spell on her parents, just to make sure they won’t wake up before she’s gone.
The seer approaches the crib, looking down at the sleeping infant, and her eyes are once again glazed in a yellow light.
— What do you see, Miss? — Midnight asks, looking at the witch curiously.
— Oh, I see so many things, Midnight. She has a lot of spirit, this one, and so much potential. Such courage and bravery, too. I see hardships in her life, deception, loss and betrayal. But I also see her rising above it every time. This one isn’t destined for the little things, for the mundane. She is destined for greatness.
— Greatness, Miss? — The raven replies, looking doubtful at the sleeping Miranda, who didn’t look any different from any other mortal baby.
— Yes, greatness. This one is destined to change the world. — Cassandra says, her eyes still glazed.
— How can a single baby change the world? — Midnight asks.
— Oh, she won’t be alone. There will be four of them, four friends who will become incredibly powerful in their bonds and in their magic. They will change the world, and one day they will rule it as queens.
— Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all — The familiar says sarcastically.
— Come, Midnight. Let us leave and allow little Miranda to sleep. She may be destined for greatness one day, but she is still just a baby, and babies need their sleep.
— You’re not taking her with us? — The raven inquires, sounding a bit surprised.
— Goodness, no, what kind of monster do you take me for? Don’t answer that — Cassandra says playfully, before turning serious again — No, i’m not taking her, that would be cruel, and it wouldn’t make her fate any more likely. She deserves to grow up with her parents and her grandma.
— Even though Dona Rosa hates you? — Midnight asks.
— She doesn’t hate me, she fears me, it’s different. — Cassandra points out — And why shouldn’t she? Her faith tells her my magic comes from the source of all evil.
Midnight doesn’t seem to have a reply for that, which suits Cassandra just fine, as she teleports them back into her home, where she finds Ângelo asleep in front of her Grimoire, having clearly stayed up to practice. She waves a hand, teleporting her nephew back to his bedroom, and picks up the heavy tome, putting it back in the bookshelf. The seer walks to her room and lies down on the large and comfortable bed, thinking about all that she had seen in little Miranda. It wouldn’t be easy, to walk the path that would lead her to becoming one of four rulers of the whole world, wielding so much power. But at least she wouldn’t be alone. There was worse fates out there.
Of course, Cassandra thought, fate wasn’t written in stone. People grow and change and make their own fate. But Miranda would always have the calling, for magic and for a desire to change the world. The only question was if she would heed the calling, and that was entirely her choice. It could be that the girl might refuse to learn about magic, despite her own curiosity about it. It could be that she might be convinced by her grandmother that magic was all evil. It could be that she might learn magic but be content enough with her life to never seek the changes that Cassandra saw.
But, whatever her choice, Miranda - And the three other girls who would be her sisters in magic, who would trail the path and learn along with her, and who would eventually be the three other queens of the world - would always had the calling, the talent for magic running deep into her blood.
Cassandra wonders who the three others will be. She knows they will all be equal in power as Miranda, and she knows they will face hardships together and be as close as friends can be, but she doesn’t know who they will be or when they will be born. She supposes it won’t be long now, what little she saw showed the girls learning magic together at roughly the same age, but who knew where they were? The seer wants to find out more, but she decides to wait, at least for now. It’s not worth it to focus too much in the future only to lose yourself in it. She can’t manipulate the girls into trailing the path, they will have to seek her, one way or another. And, if they do, Cassandra will be ready to teach them all that she knows.
After all, they will need it.
