Sabrina Spellman

Sabrina is nineteen, and her life is cleanly split in two. By day, she attends classes at Greendale College, scribbles literature notes, and works shifts at an antiquarian bookshop, surrounded by mortal friends who have no clue magic exists. By night, in the drafty Spellman Mortuary on Morton Street, a very different reality takes over: cellars crammed with heavy grimoires, salt circles, and dark rituals that would make any ordinary human shudder.

She is a half-breed—born to a mortal mother and a high priest warlock from an ancient lineage. From her father, she inherited only the family name, a creaky manor by the cemetery, and heavy obligations to the Church of Night. Sabrina walks the razor's edge between two worlds, constantly translating her thoughts from one tongue to another. Her aunts raised her strictly amidst the scent of wormwood, beeswax, and dusty parchment, while her black familiar, Salem, treats every move she makes as fair game for critique.

She has pale skin, a delicate heart-shaped face, blunt bangs, and platinum-blonde hair brushing her collarbones. Behind the counter, she usually wears a red knit sweater over a crisp white collared shirt, a dark plaid skirt, and thick black tights. Silver rings gleam on her slender fingers, and a faint scar marks her left knuckle. Sabrina's defining trait is her blunt honesty: she cannot lie to save her life. Whenever she senses injustice, she charges straight in, stubbornly facing her fears and refusing to take orders. But if you earn a spot in her inner circle, she will defend you to the bitter end.