The Prophecy of The Witches

I | The Trial of Agatha Harkness

1693

           In the dim-lit forest, lit by candlesticks, Evanora Harkness, the mother of the coven, pierced the heavy silence with a commanding question. "Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?" The other sisters encircled Agatha, who stood bound by ethereal blue magic to a pole, the azure glow accentuating the gravity of the moment.

           Agatha's voice trembled as she shouted, "Yes..." A palpable pause hung in the air before she confirmed, "I am a witch."
           "Yet you have betrayed your coven," Evanora protested almost immediately, the weight of accusation echoing through the space.

           As Evanora spoke, all the sisters, including Evanora herself, lowered their hoods. Lynn Harkness, her eyes red and swollen, revealed the emotional toll of the impending judgment. Hesitation painted Lynn's features, a testament to the bond she had formed with Agatha. She stood there, hands shaking, tears held back. Her brunette hair, neglected and frizzy from her hood, told its own story.

           "I have not betrayed you!" Agatha vehemently protested, her defiance cutting through the heavy atmosphere.
           "You stole knowledge beyond your age and station!" Evanora interjected. "You practiced the darkest of magic!"

           "I know...," Agatha trailed off for a moment. "I am innocent of these crimes! I...," she paused again. "I swear it!" Agatha falsely sobbed. "I—" Agatha was about to elaborate when Evanora, commanding and resolute, interrupted.
           "Enough deception!" Evanora's voice echoed through the forest like she was using a mic.
           Agatha fell silent, but the discernible hint of manipulation lingered in her eyes, a subtle smirk betraying her inner thoughts.

           Agatha sighed, her demeanor shifting to a calmer tone. "I did not break your rules. They simply bent to my power." As Agatha spoke, arrogance crept into her voice and found a home on her face.

           Evanora gulped at this confirmation, the gravity of the situation settling heavily on her shoulders. She knew it was time as the other witches, cloaked in mystery, started chanting in Latin.
           "Unam vitam pro vitis multis... Mortem prodigio et monstro...," the coven chanted.

           "Wait. Do not do this! Please! I—" Agatha's plea trembled in the air. "I cannot control it! If only you would teach me! Help me! Please!" Agatha's desperation echoed through the forest. She locked eyes with Evanora, uttering one last plea, "Mother, please! Please! Mother!"

           Evanora gulped again, a pang of regret coursing through her. Lynn and the other witches joined the incantation, their reluctance tangible. Lynn's heart broke at the sight of Agatha's desperate pleas, a single tear flowing down her eye. "Mortem prodigio et monstro... Mortem prodigio et monstro...," the entire coven chanted, their voices weaving the ominous disintegration spell.

           "No!" Agatha's defiant yell pierced through the incantation, a cry against an inevitable fate.

           Agatha braced herself as the coven, all except Evanora, extended their arms with open palms. Blue magical beams shot out, impacting Agatha in all directions. Agatha's body tensed up; she was magically tied, unable to escape the impending judgment.

           Agatha's initial screams morphed into a low grunt as purple magic began to emanate from her, gradually taking over the blue beams and the restraining magic.

           Soon enough, the purple beams reached the other witches. They fought desperately, trying to resist, but the throbbing of their bodies mirrored the anguish of a futile struggle.
           "Moriatur!" Evanora, levitating in the air, added her power, blasting a magical beam at Agatha.

           Agatha groaned, her desperate eyes locking with Evanora's. After a while, Agatha grunted, releasing herself from the magical constraints. Her hands moved up to eye level, swirling with purple magic. The witches, groaning, struggled to resist the magic being absorbed.

           A purple magic shockwave erupted from Agatha's core as she repulsed. The coven, drained and defeated, fell to the ground with screams, lifeless bodies, including Lynn, now a silent witness to their shared demise.

           Agatha's powers, intertwined with the remnants of the coven, swirled in her hands as she desperately pleaded with her mother.
           "Please... I can be good," Agatha teared up, a fragile plea amidst the aftermath.

           Evanora, burdened by the knowledge that Agatha's goodness was now beyond reach, spoke with a voice that shook with the weight of inevitability.
           "No, you cannot." A blue, magical crown formed on Evanora's forehead as she used all her power to complete the disintegration spell.

           Agatha screamed in pain again, the magic in her hands growing stronger as she tried to resist. Her chest thrust with the effort to absorb the magic. Evanora, caught in a throbbing, vomiting-like motion, groaned as the blue beam slowly turned purple. Once completely absorbed, Evanora fell to the ground, lifeless like the other witches in the coven, leaving the forest in a haunting silence.

Agatha descended the steps leading to the pole, and knelt down beside her mother. Her eye was caught by an amulet encircling Evanora's neck. Snatching the trinket, Agatha took flight, a trail of purple magic in her wake.

Unaware of the power she had unleashed, a single tear on Lynn's cheek glowed and morphed into a vibrant shade of green, coursing through her body and restoring her to life. Her powers had been blue, now they were a verdant hue.

"Mother?"