Daughter of a Witch

Chapter 5: Haunting Past

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, but the familiar hospital room felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. The antiseptic scent mixed with something floral-lavender, perhaps-drew her attention. It reminded her of something precious, yet the memories hovered just out of reach.

In the haze of her mind, gentle humming floated through the air, echoing off the sterile walls. It was a lullaby-an enchanting version of the "Ballad of the Witches Road," a song that resonated deep within her, awakening emotions she couldn't name.

Two figures materialized from the shadows. One woman was humming softly, her voice soothing and rich, weaving through the sterile atmosphere like a protective charm. The other stood close, her arms wrapped around the humming woman's waist, radiating warmth and love. Y/n felt an undeniable connection to this scene, yet their faces remained obscured as if veiled by a thick mist.

As the lullaby continued, Y/n's mind surged with images. She saw the two women in a hospital room, the soft glow of the overhead lights illuminating their features just enough to hint at their beauty. The woman humming cradled a baby-Y/n couldn't help but feel the pull of that baby's spirit as if it were an extension of her own soul.

"Don't let go," the humming woman seemed to whisper, though the words were lost in the melody, their significance slipping through her fingers like sand. Just as the scene began to crystallize, it shattered, leaving Y/n alone in the dark, the lullaby fading into silence.

She awoke with a jolt, her heart racing and sweat beading on her forehead. The lingering image of her mother's face haunted her, a fleeting glimpse of warmth that felt both familiar and foreign. The hospital room, with its harsh fluorescent lights and medical equipment, offered little comfort. Memories of those two women clawed at her consciousness, intertwining with the conditioning that had taught her to suppress them.

"I'm safe," she murmured, though the words felt insubstantial against the weight of her uncertainty. How could she feel safe when fragments of her past continued to invade her thoughts? The gentle rituals she practiced to control her magic felt increasingly fragile, revealing cracks in her defenses.

Pressing her palms to her temples, Y/n willed the thoughts away. "I don't want to remember," she insisted, but deep down, a voice urged her to embrace her memories rather than fear them. The lullaby echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder that her past was woven into her very being, waiting for her to acknowledge it.

Images swirled around her, unbidden-shimmering lights in a darkened room, laughter that felt like a dream. She could almost picture the two women now, their features softening into familiarity-the way the humming woman's hair glinted in the light, the way she held the baby close. The other woman stood protectively, her presence a grounding force. Who were they?

Suddenly, Y/n felt the coolness of the hospital sheets beneath her fingertips, grounding her in the moment. She could hear the faint beeping of machines nearby, a reminder of her reality. But the warmth of the memory lingered, a ghost of something she longed to reclaim.

With a deep breath, Y/n shifted in the bed, attempting to push away the weight of her confusion. She thought of her mothers, Agatha and Rio, who had been her anchors since she had escaped Hydra. Would they understand? Would they help her piece together the fragments of her past?

She closed her eyes again, the lullaby playing softly in the background of her thoughts, and allowed herself to drift into a dreamless sleep, hoping that when she awoke, she would be one step closer to unraveling the mysteries of her past.