The Mystical Adventures of Della Doyle Devereaux — Chapter 1

Growing and growing evermore. Mystical energies swirled in hues of purple and ivory into a clear gemstone embedded into a silver ring. Transparent light amber scorched an engraving on the inner band. This ring was placed into a small red oak box with silver metal adorning the edges and locked away with a Celtic designed key of silver. The key was strung onto a thin necklace and pressed against a pair of pink lips for a small moment. A whispered incantation resonated against the intricate pattern before being placed inside the box. "May you find your way, young one." The ancient witch waved her hand in the air, and a violet portal appeared in front of her. She approached the gateway, and her scarlet locks whisked out of her face. She didn't look back as she stepped through, leaving the non-magical realm behind with a gift for a powerful future witch.

Bright rays of sun seeped through the gap in the curtains and bore against the eyelids of the sleeping teenage girl. A soft groan rumbled in her throat as she nuzzled her head into her semi-hard pillow, clamping her eyes shut. A loud infernal beeping resonated in the air across the somewhat clean room. The mattress creaked, and sheets ruffled as the red-headed teen escaped her bed. Her wobbly feet took her over to her alarm clock that read 7:45 AM in bright red LED's. With a press of the button, the noise ceased. A sigh left her pale pink lips as her ocean blue eyes scoured her bedroom for any remnants of clean clothes that she could wear.

She ran her fingers through her soft long scarlet hair as she wandered over to her closet. She opened her closet and bit her lip slightly, searching for the perfect outfit for the day. Eventually, she settled on a knit tan cardigan her grandmother made her for her 17th birthday, a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. Simple, but her gut told her that it was the right choice. Though it mostly seemed that it was the only thing that she deemed acceptable in her mind.

This day was unique, with it being her 18th birthday. Her parents made a huge deal over it and her friends even larger. They insisted on throwing her a party after school that she didn't want. They had good intentions, and that did bring a smile to her face. What she didn't want was the pomp and circumstance that came with being the birthday girl. She would only do it to entertain them and as much as she seemed to resist it. She knew full well that she would enjoy herself.

She couldn't shake the fact that something had seemed different about this birthday to all of the others that came before it. Before she could think more about it, her thoughts were interrupted by her mother calling for her.

"Della Doyle Devereaux! If you don't get down here soon, your birthday waffles will get cold!" Her mother's tone was caring but loud enough to hear coming from downstairs.

"Be right there, Mom! I'll be like... five minutes!" Della sprinted to the bathroom and took a quick shower, changing into the clothes that she picked out earlier. She didn't spend much time to put on makeup after putting her clothes on for the day. Just a little bit of mascara and some blush, then brushing her teeth quickly. She grabbed her hairbrush on the way out and ran down the stairs, brushing out all the bed-head in the process. She skipped the final step and walked into the kitchen to see her parents.

They were seated at their dining room table together with the table set with plates, napkins, and silverware. In the center lay a pan filled with an egg scramble sprinkled with cheese, green and red peppers, onions, and bacon. Her father was still wearing his dark navy robe in his red flannel pajamas while her mother had on her white button-up dress shirt, a black skirt, and her skin-colored nylons. Her father's brown hair was left a bit disheveled while her mother fancied her hair made up in a bun.

Derek and Dana were chatting about something trivial, Della thought as she pulled out a chair and sat down. "Are you working later, Dad?' She asked as she tilted her head to the side slightly, glancing over to her father.

"Yes, I am actually... I just got off the phone with my boss before you came down. Randy called in sick, so I have to work overnight tonight at the station. I won't be able to make it to your party. I'm sorry, sweetheart." He wore a sad smile on his lips as he looked at his daughter. His eyes showed how apologetic he was, and his heart seemed like it would break in two.

A small frown formed on Della's lips, though if it was genuine, was another question, in part it was. "It's alright, Dad. I'm sure it'll be fine. My friends will more than make up for it, I'm sure." She took the wooden spoon that laid against the skillet and plated herself some of the scrambled eggs. "I'll always see you tomorrow. It's not the end of the world if you can't make it because of work."

"I know, sweetie. I still feel bad since it is your big one-eight."

Dana glanced at her watch and cursed under her breath, "...Shoot. I'm going to be late if I don't hurry." She rose from her seat and walked over to her daughter on the opposite side of the table. She pecked her daughter on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Della. I'll see you later at the party. I'll be sure to make your favorite and grab some more snacks for your party."

"Thanks, Mom. Have a nice day at work. Love you."

"Bye, honey. Love you!"

"Bye. Catch you later, you two. Love you both." With that, her mother hastily made her out of the house and off to work.

Della made quick work of her meal and grabbed her dishes along with her mother's. "Want me to finish cleaning up, or do you think you can handle it by yourself, old man?" Della teased as she let out a small chuckle.

Derek scoffed as he rolled his eyes at the teasing that came from his daughter. He stood up and slid his chair flush against the table. "I've got it. Happy birthday." He pecked his daughter's cheek and took the dishes from her, bringing them to the kitchen and proceeding to clean up after breakfast.

'Come and find me, young one. Find out who you truly are.'

Della's eyes blinked in confusion upon hearing the stranger's voice in her head, and she was uncertain if her father heard it too. "Uh...Dad? D-Did you hear a voice just now?" She asked, walking into the kitchen.

"No...why?"

"No... reason. Just asking. I thought I heard something." Her phone vibrated in her back jean pocket, and she reached to take it out. It was a text from her friends saying that they were at the front door. "Gotta go. My friends are here. Love you. Thanks for everything, Dad." She gave his father a quick wave as he looked over his shoulder while he was cleaning the dishes.

"Love you too. Have a fun day at school. But not too much fun, you hear?"

The scarlet haired female rolled her eyes and couldn't help it when a grin spread across her lips. "Got it."

Della grabbed her backpack and rushed out of the house, seeing her best friends piled up in Kevin Strand's parent's pale blue Volkswagen Beetle. The Beetle itself had a few dents in it, and it was just barely enough to fit everyone.

Kevin Strand was the first boy Della had ever gotten a crush on but failed to gather the courage that she required to tell her how she felt. After a few years, mellowing the crush she had developed faded. He had light brown hair roughly styled. He usually wore sweatshirts and jeans along with converse. He looked unkempt, but in middle school, it was the look at the time. Kevin just hadn't grown out of it. As he got older, he spent time exercising and toning the muscles underneath his slender frame. All that hard work left quite the definition underneath those sweatshirts he wore.

Her other friends, Olivia Lawrence and Clark Lawrence, fraternal twins, both occupied the backseat. They were only doing so because they all agreed to give the birthday girl shotgun. The Lorence twins had very curly jet black hair; similar average builds with the curves in all the proper places for their respective genders. Olivia often wore whatever was in season in the fashion industry. Clark liked to wear suits. The whole shebang in the weather permitted it so.

The ride to school was mostly uneventful, minus her chatting with her friends. Della walked with her friends in the parking lot, talking away, distracting herself for the time being on that voice that came into her mind. Her blue eyes studied the red brick building with off-white molding. The tan bricks with red lettering read 'Darcy Hansen's High School.' The school had three floors, and the classes of students were in the hundreds. It wasn't small, but it was significant enough to make it hard to remember anyone's names who weren't inside your group.

Her classes seemed to go for what seemed like hours. All day she couldn't stop thinking about the voice she heard in her head. It wasn't hers, and no one else heard it. She hadn't a clue what the voice had meant. 'Come and find me. Find out who you truly are?' What was that supposed to mean anyway? She knew who she was.

Della was a confident female, but as optimistic as she was, she had her awkward moments. She loved her family and her friends. Della excelled at school when she put her mind to it. When she found herself enthralled in a book, she could finish it in just a few days. Della had terrible luck with anyone of the opposite sex and often found herself with a broken heart. She wasn't perfect, but she tried her best regardless of what consequences bore from her action.

That voice made it sound like she didn't know who she was. That there was something about her that she didn't know. That a part of her wasn't her, it frustrated her and drove her mad. All she wanted to do was figure out who that voice belonged to and what they meant by who she truly is.

She wondered if this was all a sick prank from her friends. It wasn't unlike them to prank her. Determination shook in her bones just as much as her frustration.

The final bell rang, and it was finally time to go. Della gathered her notebook, pencil, and her chemistry textbook and packed them into her backpack. She slung her bag over her left shoulder. That is when her best friend since she was a child, Grace Michaels, came up to her, wearing a bright smile on her lips.

Grace propped herself up on the desk on her palms, her blonde curls bouncing as she excitedly swayed from side to side. "Are you getting excited for your party in a few hours, miss birthday girl? Because this girl is. This is going to be the absolute best birthday you've ever had!"

Della's face didn't show the same excitement that Grace's face held, and she knew it instantly. Something was on this girl's mind, and Grace wasn't going to stop pestering until she figured it out. The blonde huffed as she stood up straight as an arrow and placed her hands firmly on her hips. Her lips pursed sternly. "What is the matter with you? What's going on in that pretty redhead of yours, Del?"

Della's stomach dropped when the questioning began, and her stomach stirring up in knots happened soon after. She was debating whether or not she should tell her about the voice she heard in her head this morning. She didn't want her friend to think that she was going crazy because she heard a voice in her head that didn't belong to her, that no one else heard. "It's... nothing," She urged, using her right hand to punch her open left palm. She lowered her gaze to her hands and shifted her weight from side to side.

The look she received from Grace told her that she didn't believe that it was nothing. Just seeing her best friend's nervous lying tick told her everything. Everything in this moment means that something was on her mind, but she was refraining from saying. Grace inferred that Della would confide in her when she was ready. For now, Grace offered her smile and placed her hand on top of the scarlet haired female. "...Alright." Her tone was soft and velvety, her eyes soft and caring. "I'll drive you home, okay. I'll text Kevin, Olivia, and Clark and let them know that I'm driving you home. We can pick up a couple of hot chocolates on the way." Grace grabbed both of Della's hands in hers. "Topped with whip cream and drizzled with fudge chocolate sauce. Just how you like it."

The light in Grace's green eyes unraveled the knot in her stomach. She lifted her gaze from their hands, and she nodded her head. "Th-Thank you. I'd really love that, Grace. I think I really really need that hot chocolate right about now." A small chuckle escaped her lips, and a soft smile curled.

"Then let's go birthday girl!" The blonde teen reached down to grab her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She entwined her fingers with Della's and rushed out of the school, dragging Della with her. The pair climbed into her uncle's cherry red mustang and tossed their bags into the backseat. When they were ready, Grace drove out of the parking lot and onto the road.

The drive to Della's favorite cafe, The Roasted Bean, was peaceful with the sound of smooth jazz filling the car. The simplicity of the music drew a calming sensation over the red-head. It allowed her to quiet the thoughts about the mysterious voice in her head. Even if it was just for a few moments, it gave her the time to gather herself and to delude herself into believing that today was just like any other.

Grace pulled into a parking spot at The Roasted Bean and unbuckled herself to grab her bag from the back seat. She slung her matching red bag over one shoulder before getting out of the car, Della following her soon, after retrieving her backpack.

They walked into the cafe, to the barista, and ordered their drinks to go. When their drinks were ready and paid for, they walked out to the car to begin their way back to Della's house.

The girls put their seat belts on and stowed their bags away in the back of the car. They placed their drinks into the dual cup holders in the front seat and drove out of the busy parking lot onto the street.

Della's eyes trailed out of the window, taking in the scenery of the shops and the few people walking on the streets. Her mind wandered back to the voice she had heard and what it could mean.