Prologue - The trial

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The night wind blew, making the glow of the torches dance all around her.

But the air, although fresh, was heavy with judgment.

One of the voices pierced through the heavy silence, clear and implacable.

- Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?
The person concerned raised her chin.

- Yes. I am a witch.

- But you nevertheless betrayed your fellow men.

- I didn't betray anyone.

- You stole knowledge beyond your age and rank. You practice the darkest of magic. Her bonds, fueled by the hatred of her sisters, prevented her from fully expressing herself.

-I didn't commit any... any of these crimes, I promise you.

- I've had enough of your perfidy.

- I didn't break any of your rules. They only bowed to my powers.

The hoods fell in a synchronized movement, revealing the merciless faces of the Sabbath.

Wait, no. I can't control it.

Beginning murmurs growing louder, a dull and accusatory tumult. Agatha was desperate for support, her eyes fell on the old woman in front of her.

If... if only you would teach me. Please help me. Mother, I beg you. Mother, pity.

- Mous monstro naturae.

- Mother.

Agatha Harkness - The witch trial Where stories live. Discover now