Chapter 8
As Rio said, Agatha would see Rio from time to time in the following days - Rio would always appear beside Agatha after she killed several witch groups intentionally or unintentionally, and as always, she would finish her work first and then sit and chat with Agatha for a while. At this time, Rio would learn more about Agatha's life, and in return for listening to her stories, Rio would leave a flower for Agatha every time he left.
The days passed like fine sand in an hourglass. "What interesting books did you read today?" Rio always started the topic like this, and Agatha would take out a tattered book from her purple robe and explain those obscure spells with great interest. Sometimes when she was excited, her eyes would light up with a faint blue light, and small magic sparks would dance on her fingertips. Rio would hold her chin and watch quietly, as if this was the most wonderful performance in the world.
Through these fragmented conversations, Rio gradually pieced together a complete Agatha: a witch from Salem, born on a snowy winter night; she can make amazing dishes with the simplest ingredients; she collected a whole room of rabbit dolls, but never dared to raise a real rabbit, because she was afraid that her wandering life would fail this responsibility. What surprised Rio the most was that Agatha had an almost paranoid thirst for knowledge. The inside of her black robe was sewn with pockets, and each pocket was stuffed with a book she was reading.
However, whenever the topic accidentally slid into the taboo name "Evanora", the air would suddenly solidify. The light in Agatha's eyes was extinguished instantly, and the magic sparks between her fingers dissipated with a "pop". She would stand up suddenly, her robe billowing like a dark cloud, leaving a stiff farewell and disappearing into the night.
Rio was not in a hurry-although as the goddess of death, her patience was the numb endurance of long duties. But for Agatha, this waiting was accompanied by inexplicable expectations. She was willing to sit on the wet sand all night just to listen to Agatha tell about a boring magic experiment, even if her robe was soaked by seawater. As the goddess of death, she had long been accustomed to waiting - waiting for life to end, waiting for the soul to accept fate. But the feeling when waiting for Agatha was so different: it was not the numb endurance brought by duty, but a sweet expectation, like waiting for a late-blooming flower.
When there was plenty of time, Agatha would also beg Rio to tell her stories, and Rio would try to pick some interesting stories to tell Agatha - the life that death has to face is sometimes too shocking, and the darkness of human nature and the cruelty of war sometimes make Rio, who has experienced a lot, need some time to digest the discomfort in her heart. She didn't want Agatha to know that she sometimes felt panic and discomfort when she was working. Agatha was very smart. Several times Rio felt that Agatha wanted to ask what the most terrifying death she faced was, but her intelligence made her give up. If Agatha really asked, Rio might have no choice but to run away. She was not ready to tell Agatha these things - humans cannot know the weaknesses of gods - and she was also worried that telling the truth would scare Agatha away. For now, she enjoyed Agatha's company so she didn't want this to happen.
Sometimes the dead witches would carry magic books with them. Agatha would immediately take out the books and sit directly on the mound or stone next to the corpse, use a light spell to illuminate the books and then start reading and studying. Rio would listen distractedly while working.
"Bolo pato lota..." Agatha muttered to herself, making strange gestures with her fingertips facing the moonlight, like a black cat trying to cast a spell.
"Agatha, you read it wrong, it's borro, not bolo. If you read this spell wrong, you will only turn into frogs instead of coins." Rio ignored the crying and screaming souls beside her, turned her head and corrected Agatha's spell with concern. She walked behind Agatha, resting her chin on her shoulder, pointing her finger at the yellowed notebook, "Look at the little check mark here, that idiot wrote the 'r' like an 'l'."
"But it says bolo in the notebook."
Rio rolled her eyes (this was a new expression she had learned because Agatha liked to do it): "Agatha, do you choose to believe in me, a cosmic entity that has existed since the beginning of the universe, the original green witch, or do you choose to believe in this idiot who has died in your hands?"
"bolo pato lota..." Agatha chanted the wrong spell louder and glanced at Rio secretly. Rio pouted, her cheeks puffed up, and she continued her work sullenly, looking a little frustrated.
Agatha suddenly stood up, put her hands behind her back, and walked in front of Rio like a magic trick. She made an exaggerated bow with a solemn look, and when she spread her palms, a frog wearing a mini crown croaked proudly. "I dedicate this treasure to the noble goddess of death," she said with a sly smile, "I hope you will forgive my disrespect."
"I'm not angry." Rio took the frog and gently stroked its cold back with her fingertips. The little creature's crown was woven with spider silk - a typical Agatha-style exquisite joke. When the frog jumped into the grass, the silver silk on its head still flashed in the morning light.
"Oh, you're not angry? Then why are you pouting?"
"It's just..." Rio's green robe moved without wind, "You don't believe me." She kicked the pebbles at her feet, and this action reminded Agatha of the children whose candy was confiscated.
"I think it's jealousy, dear."
The moment Agatha said the name "dear", both of them were stunned. Agatha hurriedly grabbed her skirt and pretended to remove the threads on her skirt. Rio was inexplicably happy but she didn't know why. After a while, Rio murmured, "I have nothing to be jealous of."
"Well, to express my apology, you can ask me any question, and I will tell you everything I know." Agatha cleared her throat and stood up again.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"So, what did your mother, Evanora, do to you? You always refuse to tell me." Rio asked uncertainly, she was worried that Agatha would be really angry or find an excuse to leave again. But what she didn't expect was that Agatha didn't dodge this time. She looked at Rio seriously for a while and sighed.
"Well, of course, you want to know what Evanora did. In short, she has been beating and scolding me since I can remember, for small things, such as not finishing meals on time, dirtying the table, not taking the initiative to wash dishes, and not sweeping up some garbage after sweeping the floor. Later, when she became the leader of the coven, she was probably afraid of being accused of child abuse, so she only beat me where the clothes could cover it." Agatha said this sentence in a seemingly casual tone. What she didn't expect was that she immediately fell into a hug that was a little too warm. She felt Rio gently stroking her hair and back, as if comforting a crying baby.
Agatha gently broke free. She was not used to such a warm embrace.
"It's a bit too hot, Rio."
"I'm sorry Agatha, I don't know what body temperature you humans are used to. I just don't want you to feel cold, so I tried to warm my skin with magic. I'm really sorry." Rio reached out and wiped the tears from Agatha's face. It was only then that Agatha realized that she was crying.
"It's okay, Rio, I actually like this hug a little, but I'm not used to it."
"Agatha, I promise, I will make Evanora get the punishment she deserves!"
"I believe you, Rio, I really do."