Death's Echo

Chapter 5: Not Enough Time in the World

Agatha sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window, the storm outside raging like a reflection of the turmoil swirling inside her. She had never considered dying—voluntarily, at least. Since the moment she was born to a mother who saw her as something evil, she had fought to stay alive. It was instinct, a primal need to survive. From the moment her powers had awakened, marking her as a witch in a world that would see her burn, she had been fighting.

Centuries of battles, of betrayals, of barely surviving... they had made that fight a habit.

She'd clung to life with both hands, even when it hurt, even when it seemed pointless. She always told herself, just one more day. One more day had turned into one more week, then one more month, one more year, and eventually, one more century. Almost 400 years of fighting to stay alive.

It had become second nature—survival at all costs.

But now, sitting here on this bed next to Rio, her mind replaying Rio's words over and over again, the reality of what this trial was doing to them—what it was revealing—Agatha felt something she had never allowed herself to feel.

Her hands rested loosely in her lap, and for once, she wasn't calculating an escape or strategizing how to outlast whatever enemy lay outside. Her whole existence had been about survival—surviving her mother's cruelty, surviving persecution, surviving the endless dangers that came with her power. But what was the point? After centuries of clinging to life, of enduring losses that had chipped away at her soul, she was finally realizing that maybe there was nothing left worth fighting for.

She glanced sideways at Rio, who sat beside her, just as still. The weight of Rio's words echoed in her chest:

We did kill ourselves, Agatha. It just took a couple hundred years for us to finally bleed out.

Agatha had always been the one to push forward, to keep them moving. Even when everything between them had shattered, even when she felt that burning rage at Rio for taking Nicky away, she had fought. She fought Rio, fought herself, fought the world. She fought because it was all she knew how to do.

But now... now she wasn't sure what she was fighting for anymore.

The storm outside cracked with lightning, casting shadows across the room. Agatha stared out into it, seeing the chaos but feeling only numbness.

It didn't matter anymore.

None of it did.

Not the trial, not the storm, not the endless enemies she had once been so determined to outlast.

What was the point of surviving, when every piece of her had already been torn away?

She had spent her whole life fighting to stay alive, but now, for the first time, she wondered what it would feel like to let go. To stop clinging to survival like it was the only thing that defined her. She had fought and fought and fought, but now... she was just tired.

And the fight—the thing that had kept her alive for centuries—it had simply left her.

Agatha felt herself sag as the weight of her thoughts settled in. She let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to escape her lungs unbidden, a release of all the pent-up frustration and sorrow she had been carrying for so long. It was a sound of surrender, but as it left her, she didn't realize the weight that had begun to lift from her shoulders.

In that moment, she felt lighter—not just in her body or her mind, but in her heart. The heaviness that had anchored her down for centuries, the grief, the vengeance, and the hatred she held for a world that had constantly betrayed her, began to dissipate like mist in the morning sun.