Marie Laveau's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Starlight and Shadows: Marie Laveau's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

In the year 2000, as the world teetered on the edge of Y2K paranoia, Lucy Abate, a sixteen-year-old girl with a cascade of dark curls and eyes that shimmered like obsidian, stood at the crossroads of her destiny. Born to an Ethiopian mother steeped in Nubian spirituality and a German father with whispers of ancient witchcraft in his blood, Lucy was a bridge between worlds. Her mixed heritage granted her rare gifts—witchcraft, necromancy, and alchemy—powers that pulsed through her veins like a river of starlight. She lived in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, but her talents had drawn the attention of a prestigious institution half a world away: Marie Laveau’s School for Gifted Girls in New Orleans.

The school, named after the legendary Voodoo Queen, was a sanctuary for young women whose abilities defied the mundane. As Y2K loomed, rumors swirled that the world’s technological collapse would unleash chaos, and the school’s elders believed Lucy’s unique genetics held the key to balancing the spiritual upheaval that might follow. With a heavy heart, Lucy left her mother’s incense-filled home, where Nubian rituals of star-worship and ancestor-veneration were daily practice, and boarded a plane to Louisiana.

New Orleans greeted her with a humid embrace, the air thick with jasmine and the faint hum of spiritual energy. Marie Laveau’s School for Gifted Girls stood in the French Quarter, a sprawling mansion draped in ivy and guarded by iron gates etched with protective sigils. The school’s curriculum blended African Voodoo, European witchcraft, and ancient spiritualities, drawing students from across the globe. Lucy’s arrival stirred whispers among her peers—her dual heritage and triple gifts marked her as extraordinary, even among the gifted.

Her first day was a whirlwind. In Voodoo class, taught by a priestess named Mama Zola, Lucy learned to commune with the loa, spirits of Voodoo who danced between worlds. Mama Zola, her braids adorned with cowrie shells, guided Lucy to offer rum and tobacco to Baron Samedi, the loa of the dead. Lucy’s necromantic affinity surged, and she felt the Baron’s sly laughter in her bones, a confirmation of her power to speak with spirits.

Meanwhile, in European Witchcraft, a stern German instructor named Frau Hilda taught hexes rooted in ancient Germanic grimoires. Lucy’s hands wove spells effortlessly, conjuring shields of shimmering light that drew gasps from her classmates. Frau Hilda, her eyes sharp as a raven’s, muttered about Lucy’s “Wyrd-touched” aura, a nod to Viking spirituality’s concept of fate.

Lucy’s alchemy class, led by an Irish professor named Siobhan, delved into the mysticism of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient gods of Ireland. Siobhan taught Lucy to transmute herbs into elixirs, channeling the Tuatha’s elemental magic. Lucy’s first attempt produced a potion that glowed like moonlight, earning her a rare smile from Siobhan. Yet it was in Nubian Spirituality, taught by a wise elder named Amsale, that Lucy felt most at home. Amsale guided her to connect with the stars, a practice her mother had taught her under Ethiopia’s vast skies. Lucy’s visions during these rituals revealed glimpses of her ancestors—Nubian queens and shamans who whispered of her role in the coming storm.

As Y2K approached, the school buzzed with tension. The elders believed the technological glitch could disrupt the spiritual veil, allowing malevolent entities to cross into the world. Lucy’s dreams grew vivid, haunted by visions of a shadowed figure—a spirit or demon—seeking to exploit the chaos. Her necromancy revealed it was no ordinary entity but a forgotten loa, bound by Marie Laveau herself centuries ago, now stirring as the world’s clocks ticked toward midnight on December 31, 1999.

Lucy confided in her roommate, Aisha, a Voodoo practitioner from Haiti with a knack for divination. Together, they scoured the school’s library, a labyrinth of grimoires and scrolls. They uncovered a ritual combining Voodoo, Germanic witchcraft, Viking runes, and Tuatha elemental magic to reseal the loa. Lucy’s Nubian heritage was the key—her star-worship could anchor the ritual, grounding its power in the cosmos.

On New Year’s Eve, as the world held its breath for Y2K, Lucy and her classmates gathered in the school’s courtyard under a blood-red moon. Mama Zola painted veves on the ground, symbols to call the loa. Frau Hilda inscribed Germanic runes for protection, while Siobhan invoked the Tuatha’s winds to amplify the spell. Lucy, standing at the circle’s center, chanted in Amharic, her mother’s tongue, calling on Nubian star-spirits. Her alchemical elixir, glowing in a vial, was poured into the veve, and her necromantic power summoned the shadowed loa.

The air crackled as the entity appeared—a towering figure of smoke and bone, its eyes burning with malice. Lucy’s voice trembled but held firm, weaving Voodoo incantations with Viking chants of courage. The loa lunged, but her classmates’ combined magic—hexes, runes, and elemental bursts—held it at bay. Lucy raised her hands, channeling starlight through her Nubian heritage, and the loa shrieked as it was bound once more, sealed into the earth by the ritual’s power.

As midnight passed and Y2K proved a false apocalypse, the world exhaled. Lucy, exhausted, felt her ancestors’ pride radiating through her. The elders declared her a prodigy, but Lucy knew her strength came from her dual heritage—a tapestry of African and European magic, woven together under the stars.

Back in her dorm, Lucy gazed at a photo of her parents, her heart full. She was no longer just a girl from Ethiopia; she was a guardian of worlds, ready for whatever mysteries awaited.

Written by Dr. Keren Obara.