Woven in Shadows (agatha x rio)

Rio's Trial

Chapter twenty-three: Rio's Trial

As Agatha returned from her trial, her breath shaky, she was met with the sight of the demon-like figure that had guided them so far. It stood motionless, an eerie presence in the shadows. Without a word, the creature released several orbs of shimmering light, sending them spiraling toward Nessa and Rio. The orbs stopped in midair, hovering before them like an unspoken challenge. The tension in the air thickened. Rio's gaze met Nessa's, a fleeting moment of unspoken understanding passing between them. Then, without hesitation, Rio stepped forward, her voice steady but laced with quiet resolve. "I'll go next." It wasn't a choice, not really. The weight of it hung heavy on her, and despite her usual sarcasm, something deeper flickered beneath the surface as she took her first step toward whatever awaited her next.

The air crackled as Rio stumbled to a halt, her boots scuffing against the cool, obsidian ground of the Witches' Road. Her breath came out in shallow gasps as she took in her surroundings. The realm stretched endlessly in all directions, cloaked in silver mist that clung to her skin like frost. The trees, if they could be called that, were skeletal and polished, their bark gleaming like blackened mirrors. The sky above was blank a vast, colorless void devoid of stars, sun, or even a hint of life.

"Great. This place has vibes," Rio muttered, her voice bouncing off the oppressive silence. She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, forcing herself to move forward along the path that seemed to rise from the mist itself.

Every step felt heavier than the last, like the road was testing her resolve, weighing her soul with each footfall. The mist curled and shifted, taking on shapes, faces that dissolved before they could become clear.

Then, a sound. Faint, but unmistakable. Laughter.

It wasn't malicious or eerie. It was soft, warm utterly out of place in this desolate expanse.

Rio froze, her entire body taut as the laughter grew louder, clearer.

"Nicky?" The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

The mist seemed to breathe, pulling back and parting like a curtain to reveal a small clearing. In its center stood a cabin. Its wood was worn and grayed with age, but the structure held a quiet dignity. The windows were smudged but intact, and the front door was slightly ajar, swaying gently in a breeze that didn't exist.

Rio's heart twisted. She knew this place. Not because she had been there before—she hadn't—but because she had seen it through Agatha's eyes, through her memories and her grief.

The cabin was alive with warmth, smoke curling from the chimney and soft light spilling from the windows. A figure burst through the door, and Rio's breath hitched.

It was Nicky, clutching a wooden sword, his laughter ringing through the clearing.

"Ma! Mother! Look what I made!"

Rio's hand shot out, gripping the trunk of a nearby tree for support. The bark was cool under her palm, grounding her in the surreal moment.

The door creaked again, and Agatha appeared on the porch, her hair pulled back, her expression soft with maternal pride. "Careful, Nicky. Don't trip on the steps again." Agatha beamed happily "Oh hey my love, we've missed you"

Rio took a step forward, the ground beneath her feeling less stable with every move. Her breath caught, her voice trembling. "You're not... this isn't real."

Her words seemed to break something. The scene didn't vanish immediately, but the edges of the clearing began to waver like heat rising off pavement. The colors dimmed, the warmth leeching away as though the air itself had turned cold.

Rio blinked, and the cabin was gone. She stood in a grand hall now, vast and echoing, its walls lined with names etched in shimmering gold. Her own name was there, high and prominent, glowing brighter than all the others.

Her pulse quickened as she turned away from it. "What the hell is this?"

The mist stirred again, wrapping around her like a cold embrace. When it cleared, she was back in the cabin. But this time, it was silent.

The fire was out, and the air felt thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break. She saw herself sitting at the table, alone. Her hands were stained with ink as she meticulously recorded names in a ledger. There was no laughter, no warmth—only duty.

The silence grew unbearable, the loneliness pressing against her chest like a weight she couldn't lift. Her jaw tightened as she stepped forward, reaching out to the version of herself seated at the table. But before she could touch the vision, it shattered like glass, leaving her in darkness.

The darkness shifted, and a faint light bloomed in the distance. She followed it, her footsteps echoing in the void.

The light grew brighter, resolving into another version of the cabin. This time, it was alive again. The fire roared, casting golden light over Nessa and Agatha. They sat together on the couch, Nessa braiding her mother's hair as they laughed about something Rio couldn't hear. Nicky laid on the floor colouring in his colouring book next to the fire.

Rio was there, too. She sat apart but present, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched her family.

"You could have this," a voice whispered, low and insistent, echoing in her mind.

As the world around her began to shift, an eerie whisper seemed to curl through the air, wrapping itself around Rio's mind. The voice was soft, almost too faint to catch, but it persisted, like a quiet temptation. "You could have it all. A life, a family... love."

It echoed through her thoughts, the words dripping with a sweet, hollow promise. The voice continued, persistent, like a lure in the dark. "You've pushed them away. You've pushed yourself away. You think it's your fault—this curse of death you carry. But that's not true. It's not your fault that no one can love you... you just won't let them."

Rio's chest tightened, the weight of her own walls pressing down on her. She wanted to turn away from the voice, but she couldn't. It felt like the truth she had been running from. She stood there, torn between the longing for the life she thought she could never have and the cold reality she had built for herself.

The voice whispered again, coaxing. "You could be happy, if only you'd let yourself..." Her breath caught in her throat, the years of carrying guilt, of refusing to forgive herself, all crashing over her like a wave. In a quiet but firm decision, Rio stepped back from the echoing whisper, her hand clenched at her side. She had spent far too long living in the shadow of what she couldn't have.

It was time to stop hurting herself with these burdens. It was time to choose to love herself, to forgive herself, even if the world or death had a different plan. And with that, she chose herself, ready to face the consequences of both her past and what she could become.

The Erie low voice whispered again in her ear " I'm just showing you the possibilities, allow yourself to be happy Lady Death. Make your life worth living." Rio heard its words in the moment realizing it's right.

The light flickered and dimmed, and the cabin began to dissolve again. This time, Rio didn't fight it. She let it fade, the warmth replaced by the cold, sterile air of the Witches' Road.

Her knees hit the ground as the world steadied around her. She was back on the path, the mist swirling at her feet. Her chest heaved, her mind racing with everything she had seen.

"I choose to be happy" she whispered, her voice breaking just above a whisper.

The mist parted, revealing the path forward.

When she returned to Agatha and Nessa, she hesitated at the edge of the clearing. They were waiting for her, their eyes filled with worry. Rio forced a smirk, brushing off the tension like it was nothing.

"Miss me?" she asked, her tone light, though her voice was raw.

Agatha stepped toward her, taking Rio's hand and giving it a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. Rio returned the favour with a smile. As they moved on, walking further down the path Rio's fingers brushed against Agatha's, a silent promise that she had chosen them—her family—over the endless solitude of duty.