Work Text:
Salem, Massachusetts, 1693
In the dim light of early morning, Evanora's voice rang through the hallowed halls of their modest dwelling, rousing Agatha from her fleeting dreams. The call was a sharp command, echoing with the weight of a mother’s frustration that could pierce even the most peaceful slumber.
“Agatha! I told you to clean my library, didn't I?! Come down here you worthless wench!”
Panic surged within Agatha as she scrambled from her bed and hurried down the staircase. At the foot of the steps, she was met with her mother’s seething glare, the heat of anger reddening her face.
“C-coming, mother!”
The accusation came swift and fierce, a reminder of the tasks left undone.
“Didn't I tell you earlier to clean the house?!”
Agatha’s voice trembled as she offered a meek defense. “I-I did...” Yet, her heart sank as Evanora’s words fell like stones, heavy with disappointment.
“Well, young lady, you missed the library!”
Agatha was about to interject, but Evanora’s fierce shout silenced her. “Go clean the library and you're not leaving the house until I see my reflection in those books!”
With no choice but to obey, Agatha stood and walked toward the small library next to their kitchen.
“I would've never given birth to you if I’d known you’d be this worthless,” her mother muttered as Agatha entered.
That statement pierced her heart like a dagger. It was one of the harshest things her mother had ever said. No matter how hard Agatha tried to please her, Evanora never seemed satisfied, believing her daughter could never measure up to anyone in their coven. Deep down, Agatha understood that her mother wanted nothing to do with her, yet it still hurt.
In her eighteen years, Evanora had never said she loved her or acknowledged her as her own flesh and blood. To her mother, Agatha was just an evil child, and that hurt more than any insult.
Taking a deep breath, Agatha began to dust the books one by one, desperate to please her mother.
“Down... down... down the road...” she hummed a tune she made up as she wiped one of the spell books. This was the very book she had been secretly borrowing to learn magic, filled with basic spells her mother had neglected to teach her. The girls in town practiced these spells, but they refused to let Agatha join, haunted by the terrible things Evanora said about her.
Bad… Disobedient child... Evil... Worthless... Demon...
Agatha felt utterly alone; the only company she had were the pigs and chickens on the farm.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud as a book fell from the shelf, and a little bunny scurried towards her. She set the spell book aside and gently picked up the bunny. “Oh hello there, little fella, are you lost?” she asked, wishing for a response. “I'm sorry, I cannot keep you; mother wouldn’t allow it.” With a sigh, she carefully placed the bunny out the window, watching it hop away. Agatha had always loved animals, especially bunnies. She would do anything to have one, if only her mother would permit it.
Glancing back at the fallen book, she picked it up and studied it. She didn’t recognize it. The cover was black and the pages fragile, stained with yellow and dark brown marks.
Curious, Agatha began to read, trying to understand its ancient content, as if her mother had unearthed it from some forgotten grave. Then, she realized she was holding THE Darkhold, the infamous book of the damned.
She had heard stories about this book, tales of forbidden knowledge and dark magic. It was said that anyone who used the Darkhold would be corrupted, facing dire consequences. But why was it in her mother’s library? Did Evanora practice dark magic? She didn’t seem corrupted—she was still the mother who had treated Agatha so harshly.
Her heart raced, pounding in her chest. She quickly returned the Darkhold to its place on the shelf, determined to finish her cleaning before her mother discovered she had touched it.
—
In the stillness of the night, when shadows danced upon the walls, Agatha found herself unable to rest. Her mind was consumed by thoughts of the darkhold, an ominous artifact that seemed to whisper her name in the silence.
Compelled by an unbidden impulse, she crept quietly from her chamber, making her way to her mother’s library. With trembling hands, she seized the darkhold and fled into the embrace of the woods, toward the secluded lake where she could be hidden from prying eyes.
Agatha was acutely aware that this act was fraught with peril; yet, the thrill of the forbidden tantalized her. After all, her mother already regarded her as a wayward spirit. Why not lean into that perception by delving into dark magic? The thought filled her with a reckless excitement.
“You know you shouldn't let anyone catch you with that thing,” a voice echoed through the trees.
Startled, Agatha nearly felt the dawn's light piercing the darkness as she turned to behold a girl cloaked in emerald. The intensity of the girl’s gaze sent a shiver through Agatha, prompting her to hastily conceal the darkhold beneath her own dark purple cloak.
The girl, who had been observing her with keen interest, let out a light chuckle. “There’s no need to hide it, darling. I wouldn't snitch on you.” She settled herself across from Agatha, her demeanor relaxed yet curious.
“W-who are you? I’m A-Agatha…” came Agatha's hesitant reply, the nervousness evident in her voice.
“Just call me Rio,” the girl responded, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
“Okay... Rio, where are you from? I don't remember seeing you before,” Agatha ventured, her curiosity piqued, finding herself growing more at ease.
Rio cleared her throat, the corners of her mouth curving in a mysterious smile. “Not from here. I live far away, where no living thing could reach me.” Her tone was earnest, but Agatha, taking it as jest, couldn’t help but laugh.
As the conversation unfolded, they exchanged thoughts and stories, the hours slipping by unnoticed until the first light of dawn threatened to reveal Agatha’s absence.
“I know you live far away and just came to visit, but promise me we'll see each other again, okay?” Agatha’s large, hopeful eyes searched Rio’s, filled with a yearning that felt profound.
Rio returned her gaze with a warm smile. “Sure, sweetheart. Soon.” The endearment sent a thrill through Agatha; she could hardly remember the last time someone had addressed her with such affection.
With smiles shared and hearts lightened, the two girls parted ways, each retreating into the early morning mist.
Agatha managed to return home before her mother awoke, ensuring the darkhold was returned to its rightful place. In truth, she had nearly forgotten the artifact during her conversation with Rio, who had captivated her with tales of being a green witch and how she could conjure flowers that bloomed in her hands.
Though their meeting was but a fleeting encounter, Agatha found herself harboring an undeniable crush on Rio. After all, Rio had been the first to sit beside her, to truly know her, and most importantly, to accept her without judgment. With eager anticipation, Agatha looked forward to their next meeting, her heart aflame with hope.
—
“I thought you weren't coming,” Agatha said, her voice carefully steady, though a hint of sadness lingered in the air.
Rio, radiant as ever, presented her with a delicate flower she had nurtured in her hand before settling across from her. “I promised you I would, didn't I?” she replied, a gentle chuckle escaping her lips. Agatha, however, remained fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake, a shadow of worry creeping into Rio’s heart. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Something's bothering you?” she inquired, concern etching her features.
With a heavy sigh, Agatha spoke as though burdened by the weight of the world. “A girl my age died today, and my mother blamed it on me, as she always does when someone in our town passes. Though I had no part in it, she insists it was my fault. She said I probably scared her and made her take her own life.” Her brow furrowed, the memory pained her deeply. Rio found something endearing in Agatha’s expression, despite the somber topic.
“Honey, don’t take her words to heart. You are not responsible for any of that. You don't always have to listen to what she says, she can be quite difficult, you know?” Rio’s gaze softened as it lingered on Agatha. Though she had never been one to comfort others, an unbidden tenderness welled within her at the sight of Agatha’s sadness.
Agatha’s lips turned up into a faint smile as she gazed at the expanse of stars overhead. “I forgive the world for how it has treated me.”
“Why?” Rio asked, curiosity piqued.
Agatha shrugged nonchalantly. “Because you're in it,” she said, as if the answer were the most obvious truth.
Rio stared at her, momentarily taken aback by the profound simplicity of her words. A strange tugging sensation unfurled within her heart, unfamiliar yet welcome. “You do know we cannot be together all the time, right?” she asked, her words measured and deliberate.
“I know that, Rio. I’ve accepted it. It’s alright; even though I wish we could always be together, I understand we cannot.” Agatha sighed, a trace of longing in her voice. “But you always come back to me, don’t you? You wouldn’t leave me here forever, would you?” She turned to Rio, her eyes shimmering with hope.
“I would not let you wait that long, mi amor. I promise I will always return to you.” Rising, Rio moved to sit beside Agatha, a smile breaking across her face as their shoulders brushed together.
“Why must I wait so long? What is your work, anyway?” Agatha asked, her tone innocently curious.
“Soon, I will tell you,” Rio replied, draping her arm affectionately over Agatha. Agatha rested her head on Rio’s shoulder, a comfortable silence enveloping them as they basked in the warmth of each other’s presence.
Night after night, Agatha found herself waiting by the lake, uncertain if the enchanting green witch would appear. Yet, each time Rio did arrive, Agatha ensured their evenings were filled with laughter and love, cherishing the memories they created together, woven beneath the starlit sky.
—
“No Rio again?” Agatha sighed, her gaze fixed on their usual spot by the lake. With a heaviness in her heart, she lowered herself onto one of the two tree logs that had long served as her refuge. It had been three months since she last beheld Rio’s familiar figure—the longest stretch of time she had ever endured in silence. Normally, a week or two would pass before Rio would appear, yet now, nearly a hundred days had slipped by.
Agatha could not escape the truth: she missed Rio dearly. Yet, intertwined with that longing was a simmering anger, a frustration at the absence that seemed to stretch endlessly before her. At times, the notion that she had been forgotten tormented her thoughts, each consideration sending a pang through her heart. But deep down, she clung to the belief that Rio would never abandon her.
“I’m so boooored, what can we do, hm?” she mused aloud to the small bunny that had followed her into the lake.
In a gesture that felt almost understanding, the bunny leapt into her lap and nestled itself within the folds of her cloak, where she had hidden the darkhold. “Oh yes, you’re a clever one!” she exclaimed. Sensing that Rio might once again be a no-show, she had brought the darkhold along, hoping to find some amusement in its pages even in her friend’s absence.
Thus, Agatha spent the night immersed in the ancient text, her fingers tracing the lines of dark magic. To her surprise, she found herself reveling in the practice. Her heart surged with excitement, for the allure of magic had always beckoned her, yet the chance to learn had eluded her. The darkhold, with its forbidden knowledge, seemed to fill a void within her, and she felt an intoxicating sense of power simply by grasping the book of the damned.
“This is fun!” she giggled, the sound bubbling forth as she successfully cast one of the spells inscribed within.
“Oh, is it?”
The sudden voice froze her in place, a chill running down her spine. With deliberate slowness, she turned to behold her mother, Evanora, accompanied by several members of the coven, their expressions a mixture of shock and anger, as if she had conjured forth a demon from the depths of despair.
To be continued...