Death's Echo

Chapter 3: Tick Tock

The ticking of the clock echoed through the room, sharp and relentless, each second a reminder of the time slipping away. The air was thick with tension, every breath heavy with the memory of the last trial, how it had pushed them to the brink as the countdown ticked toward something far more deadly than they could have anticipated.

Agatha felt her pulse quicken, the steady rhythm of the clock in sync with the pounding in her chest. Everyone's eyes darted between each other, uneasy, as if waiting for the room itself to reveal its intentions.

Jen's voice broke the silence, steady but cautious.

"Okay, so the trial has officially begun," she said, drawing the gaze of the others. Her eyes flicked between Agatha and Rio, her expression sharp, calculating. "This is clearly for you two—want to tell us what's going on? What we should be looking for?"

Agatha exchanged a glance with Rio, the weight of the trial pressing down on them both. She swallowed hard, her throat tight. The memory of their last trial still lingered, the ticking clock a sinister reminder of what was at stake.

"I don't know yet," Agatha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's forcing us to confront... everything we've buried."

Rio's face was pale, her eyes haunted as she glanced at the clock, then back at Nicholas, who still stood near the door, oblivious to the tension filling the room. The innocence in his expression was almost too much to bear.

"Soo... you two are..." Alice's voice cut through the silence, hesitant, as all eyes turned to her. She was pointing awkwardly between Agatha and Rio, the uncertainty clear on her face, as though she didn't want to be the one to address the elephant in the room.

Agatha felt her lips press into a thin line, the frustration bubbling inside her. She hated this—hated even having to acknowledge something so private, something she had held close for centuries. Nobody knew. The few who did were long dead. But there was no way out of it now. Not with the memories all around them, pressing in.

With a sharp exhale, she threw her hands up, her irritation evident.

"Yes, okay—Rio and I were married. This is—" She faltered, her voice catching in her throat as the words came out too easily, too familiar. This is. The present tense made her wince, and she quickly corrected herself. "Was. This was our home... nearly two centuries ago."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the silence palpable as the rest of the group processed the revelation, eyes flicking between Agatha and Rio, trying to piece together the fragments of a past neither had ever spoken of.

"Technically, we're still married," Rio added, her voice dripping with sarcasm as the edges of her grief began to morph into something sharper. Agatha recognized it immediately—Rio's need to land a barb, to ground herself in something other than her pain. It was a tactic, one she knew all too well.

Agatha's eyes narrowed, the flash of irritation unmistakable.

"In magic only," she hissed, the words biting as she turned away from her, unwilling to let Rio's sarcasm pierce her any deeper.

Jen stepped forward, her eyes locking onto Nicholas, who stood unaware of their presence—except for Rio.

"And him?" she asked, her voice quiet but pointed, cutting through the thick air.

Agatha's heart clenched painfully, the familiar ache surging through her chest as her gaze drifted to Nicholas. She swallowed hard, the weight of the question settling like a stone in her throat. She didn't talk about him—ever. Not to anyone. The memories were buried deep, locked away where they couldn't hurt her, where the pain couldn't surface. And now here they were, standing in front of it, demanding acknowledgment.