Death's Echo

Chapter 1: Through the Veil

Agatha's boots hit the road with a hollow, rhythmic thud, the sound strangely out of sync with the frantic beating of her heart. Each step should have been a steadying force, something to ground her in the reality of the Witches' Road, but tonight, it did nothing to quiet the rising storm inside her. The house loomed in the distance, barely a shadow against the darkened horizon.  Agatha's stomach twisted in knots, and she had to clench her fists just to keep herself steady.

It wasn't the second trial that stirred this unease in her bones. It wasn't the test of magic that awaited them within those cursed walls.

The Green Witch.

Rio.

Her ex-wife, though that title felt like a lie. It had been nearly two centuries since they had cast the bonding sell, a ritual that had entwined their souls far deeper than any mortal vow.

Irreversible.

Unbreakable.

There was no escaping it.

No escaping her.

She had spent years pretending that her life could move forward, that she could live without the constant weight of Rio's presence dragging her back to the past. That she could somehow ignore the chain that still connected them—forever. But she couldn't. Every step on the Witches' Road tonight felt like it was dragging her toward that same suffocating truth.

And every step felt like a plunge back into the void of their shared pain.

The loss.

It was always that loss that hung between them like a ghost that refused to be exorcised. Their love had once been dark and electric, a storm that raged between them, full of passion and power. They had pushed each other, challenged each other, sometimes with cruel edges that hurt more than they healed—but it had worked. It had thrived, fed by the same magic that pulsed in their veins, bound by the kind of love that defied reason or explanation.

Until that night. Until the loss ripped it all apart. It had torn through them, leaving jagged, bleeding wounds that neither magic nor time could ever heal. Agatha could still feel it, the sharp claws of grief that dug into her every time she thought about it. Every time she saw Rio's face, that same void opened up inside her, swallowing everything good they'd once had.

No love could survive what they had been through. What they had lost.

The only thing that thrived in the aftermath was cruelty. Cruelty and bitterness that ate away at them both until there was nothing left but the bonding spell itself, the one thing they couldn't sever, no matter how desperately they both tried. Leaving had been the only way Agatha could survive it. The only way to keep from drowning in the endless pain that tied them together.

But survival didn't mean healing.

Agatha had spent years convincing herself she was free of Rio, that she could live her life without her shadow darkening every corner of it. But the moment Rio had joined the Witches' Road, all those carefully built walls crumbled, and Agatha was right back where she started—haunted by the ghost of what they had been. Haunted by the loss they had never stopped feeling.

Lost in her thoughts, Agatha didn't notice they had reached the house until she walked straight into Alice's back, jolting her back to the present with a start. Her breath caught in her throat.

Alice turned, concern etched into her face. "Agatha... are you alright?"

Agatha didn't answer. She didn't apologize either—it wasn't in her nature. Instead, she stared past Alice at the house that stood before them, its dark silhouette rising like a monument to her worst memories.