Power of Death (Agathario)

Chapter Ten

Thirty years later/2 witch years later:

Agatha snapped up from her book as she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. She shut it's pages, putting it back on the shelf. She eyed the figure through her doorway as it got closer to her cottage, then relaxed when she realized it was just the baker's son, Thomas. She could handle him.

Agatha bit her lip as Thomas approached her, holding a basket in his muscled arms.

"Agnes," he said, stepping up into her doorway. Agatha stood in the middle of the room, not moving closer to greet him. "Your sisters let me through to see you. I brought you something."

Agatha felt like she knew where this was going. How dare the rest of the coven let him in? She sighed, forcing out the kind-hearted act she used around everyone. "What did you bring?"

"I brought you some flowers. And some bread, from my father's mill." He held out the basket, and when Agatha didn't walk towards him he stepped in the room and walked up to her. Agatha took the basket, giving an internal groan.

She peeked inside, seeing some bread and a bouquet of flowers. but then spotted a single orange flower that stood out from the rest. The same type Rio had given her.

The same type that appeared on the roads she was on after every witch killing, despite Agatha getting as far away from the scene of the crime as possible.

She pressed her lips together, looking back up at Thomas. She forced herself to sound cheery. "Thank you."

"I was wondering... if you were looking for marriage," Thomas continued.

It was exactly what Agatha had been fearing.

She'd lived in her current witch community for about a year, sneaking out every week to kill other witches. Moving each week had gotten tiring. But that meant that since she was staying in one place for a while, people got to know her.

At least, they got to know that fake, polite version of her, who Agatha had dubbed "Agnes." It was Agnes everyone knew and liked, not Agatha. And she had had doubts before, about some man needing a wife and trying to pick her, since everyone thought she was nice.

She wasn't that nice.

Agatha gritted her teeth for a second, then spoke. "I'm not looking for a man to marry."

"Really?" A look of pure shock spread across Thomas' face. "But you must be getting older. Surely you will need a husband."

Agatha raised an eyebrow. Men were so entitled. Her voice went dark as she dropped the "Agnes" act. "Listen, Thomas, and listen hard. I don't want a husband, and I most certainly don't want you. You didn't even spend time making the basket, your mother and father did all the work. These flowers are from your mother's shop and the bread is from your father. The next time you ask a woman for marriage you can at least get the gift basket right."

Thomas' jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed, though a look of surprise entered his eyes at Agatha's sudden change. "What makes you think you can speak this way?"

"I don't even live in your village," Agatha replied, speaking as if she was explaining something to a five-year-old, "I live in the part of the woods that just happens to be near your village. Therefore I don't live by your rules. I don't have to bend to the patriarchy's rules. I can speak however I please."

Thomas was getting visibly angry. He put his hands on Agatha's shoulders. "Come on, just say yes. My parents need me to marry."

Agatha felt a spark of magic by her fingers, but didn't release it. She had such a good hold on her power now, and didn't want to lose control.

"Get away from me," Agatha ordered forcefully. "Don't make me do something to force you."

"Just be my wife, Agnes, it's not that hard."

"You need to leave, Thomas."

"No," his eyes were growing wild.

"Thoma— mm!" Agatha started to say, but was cut off as Thomas suddenly latched his lips onto Agatha's. The basket fell to the floor as Agatha pushed Thomas away, rage screaming its way out through her magic.

This time she didn't hold back. She let her purple magic fly as she pushed him back, knocking Thomas off of her and into the wall. For a second the anger blurred her vision and once it cleared she realized she'd rammed him into that wall more than once, leaving the wood cracked and damaged.

Agatha's hands, which were still surrounded by purple, curled into fists as she grinned down at Thomas, who had been knocked unconscious- or worse- by the blows.

He deserved that.

Her smile dropped as a shocked gasp came from the doorway. One of her coven members stood there, her face full of surprise. "Agnes!"

The rest of the coven was there in seconds. They all crowded around the doorway, and Agatha had no choice but to stand there.

The original coven member spoke again. "That was dark magic. Do you practice it?"

Agatha bit her lip. Not again. After all these years, couldn't she get a break? "No, I don't practice that."

"Are you a dark witch then?" She asked. "Did we invite darkness into our coven?"

Agatha let out a groan, throwing out her arms. She saw no use in fighting them, the witch had already seen what Agatha could do. "Fine, I admit it. I'm a dark witch!"

The coven gasped, then started whispering among themselves. Agatha felt a hint of pride sneak into her heart and she sneered.

"So what are you going to try this time?" Agatha asked, crossing her arms. "Burning? Drowning?"

"I'm sorry Agnes, but rules are rules," the leader of the coven said, holding out her hands as she spoke. "You are to be burned. Right this moment."

Agatha sighed, knowing what was coming as the rest of the coven held up their hands as well.

"Oh, and my name's Agatha," she felt the need to add, just to taunt them a bit. It worked. A couple of them groaned, realizing how little they knew.

Right as the coven started blasting her, she felt the familiar burst of pain followed by the energizing tingling. Soon they fell to the ground one by one, wrinkled and shriveled. This time Agatha could look at them and name them.

She had known them for a year, yet they hadn't known her.

As she looked at the bodies around her, feeling the power in her veins, Agatha didn't want to run anymore. She didn't want to move. Unlike her past murders, this wasn't planned and had taken Agatha by surprise. She had nowhere to go anyway.

Instead she just wiped off her mouth to get Thomas' taste off and then sat down on the floor. She sat for a second, staring at the ground before she felt someone staring at her and she looked up.

There was Rio, in all her glory. She was older, but so was Agatha. And it had really only been a couple witch years. Rio didn't wear her skull face, the mark that made her so recognizable as Death.

Thirty years had passed, but Rio looked the same, though her eyes were darker, giving the impression that she was glaring. Despite the negative air, she wordlessly held up her orange flower, offering it to Agatha.

—

*gasp* Will they kiss? Will they fight? Will they part ways again or stay together?

Keep reading to find out :)

Have a great day!

-VictoryGreen8