Daughter of a Witch

Echoes of the Past

The night had been peaceful. After a cozy movie marathon, Y/n lay fast asleep on the couch, wrapped in blankets. The soft glow of the TV cast shadows across her serene face as Agatha and Rio quietly gathered empty bowls and mugs, careful not to wake her.

"She's growing up so fast," Agatha whispered, her voice filled with pride and a touch of melancholy as she gazed at Y/n. "I feel like we've barely had any time."

Rio smiled softly. "I know what you mean. It feels like just yesterday we were hiding from the world, wondering if we'd ever have a family at all." She set a mug down I the shink, glancing at Agatha with a thoughtful, bittersweet look.

But before they could linger on the memories, a strange warmth began to ripple through the room, accompanied by a faint, otherworldly hum. The space around them warped and twisted, and when the haze lifted, they found themselves in a place all too familiar.

"Salem," Agatha murmured, her heart racing as the past surged up to meet them. The cobblestone streets, earthy scents, and the oppressive silence transported them to a time long gone, a time when they were just beginning their journey together.

Rio looked around in awe, gripping Agatha's hand. "We're really here. This is... this is where it all started," she whispered, her voice filled with reverence and wonder.

Before them, a younger version of Agatha stood in the shadows of the coven's circle, barely more than a girl, her wild curls framing her nervous face. The younger Agatha watched the proceedings of the coven with a wary, guarded posture, clearly keeping herself at a safe distance from the others.

Rio squeezed Agatha's hand, watching her own younger self step into the circle confidently, her head held high. "I remember this night," she whispered, a faint smile on her lips. "The night I first saw you."

Agatha watched her younger self with an aching heart. "I was drawn to you, even then," she murmured, her gaze softening as she watched young Rio challenge the coven's traditions with a boldness that had always set her apart.

They watched in silence as memories unfolded before them-stolen moments in the forest, whispered secrets, and soft laughter shared in hidden corners. Agatha and Rio exchanged glances, smiling as they relived their first moments of falling in love, the thrill of discovery, and the fierce loyalty that had bonded them together.

The scene shifted, and a chill filled the air. They found themselves in a dim, candle-lit chamber, watching young Agatha face her mother, Evanora, who loomed over her with a cold, disapproving glare.

"You are a disappointment," Evanora spat, her words laced with venom. "A child born wrong, drawn to corruption and darkness."

Agatha flinched at the memory of her mother's hateful gaze. Rio's grip on her hand tightened, and she whispered fiercely, "You didn't deserve that. She didn't see who you truly were."

A voice broke the silence in the memory-young Rio, stepping forward with fire in her eyes. "Leave her alone!" she shouted. "You're supposed to be her mother. How can you speak to her like that?"

Evanora scoffed, dismissing young Rio with a wave. But the defiant look in Rio's eyes never wavered, her strength radiating as she stood her ground. Watching, Agatha's heart swelled with gratitude for Rio's bravery. That night had been a turning point, the moment when she knew Rio would fight for her, no matter the cost.

Suddenly, the colors shifted, and the streets of Salem faded. They found themselves in a warm, softly lit apartment, surrounded by the sounds of the early 2000s. They looked around in awe, seeing themselves reflected in this new world-no longer the naive young women they had once been, but adults who had fought for their freedom.