A Deal
The forest was cloaked in mist as Lucia approached the crumbling remains of the coven's once-great sanctum. The air carried the damp scent of earth and charred wood—lingering remnants of the fire Agatha had unleashed months prior.
Even in ruin, the energy of the place lingered, humming faintly beneath her feet like an unspoken memory.
Lucia stepped into the clearing, her cloak billowing behind her as she called out, her voice smooth and steady, “Agatha, I know you're watching. I come unarmed—and with a proposition.”
From the shadows, a figure emerged. Agatha’s green eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, her fingers idly playing with the necklace around her neck. It was both a memento of her mother and a trophy of her triumph.
“Lucia,” Agatha drawled, her voice laced with feigned surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
Lucia inclined her head, offering a thin smile. “True, I didn’t plan to. But only children cling to such grudges. Witches know that survival often means reevaluating our alliances and doing what is necessary... You taught me that.”
Agatha stepped forward, her expression sharp. The faint hum of her magic pulsed in the air, as commanding as ever. “Reevaluating, is it? After you betrayed me and warned Mother of my plans? After I reduced your precious coven to ashes? Tell me, Lucia, what is there left to reevaluate between us?”
Lucia’s tone remained calm, unwavering. However, a flicker of unease rippled through her.
How does she know? Lucia wondered, masking her surprise. She had taken every precaution to ensure her actions were untraceable. Those who had witnessed her warning Agatha’s mother were no longer alive—courtesy of Agatha herself.
Still, she maintained her composure. “Let’s not dwell on the past,” she said evenly. “I’m here because something far more pressing looms on the horizon—something that may trouble even you.”
Agatha raised an eyebrow, skepticism flashing across her features. “Go on.”
Lucia stepped closer, lowering her voice. “The girl you’ve captured—is no witch. Her magic is unabsorbable. You couldn’t strip it from her even if you tried.”
Agatha’s gaze darkened, though she said nothing, her silence urging Lucia to continue.
“She isn’t a witch,” Lucia explained carefully. “Her power stems from her lineage. It can’t be transferred or drained. But more importantly, she’s a lure—a beacon drawing wolves to your doorstep.”
“Wolves?” Agatha repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism as to what backing a little witch or not witch would have. “Her coven? Her family? Her father’s letter made it clear he welcomed her demise...”
Lucia allowed herself a small smile. “Her siblings—but more importantly, an annoying pest in your way: Solomon.”
Agatha's expression soured at the mention of his name, her posture stiffening. “That meddlesome warlock,” she hissed. “He’s been a thorn in my side for years.”
“Precisely. Solomon seeks to end the trials for good. He knows Salem better than anyone, and he’s dangerous when he has help. But I have a plan that could rid you of him once and for all.”
Agatha crossed her arms, distrust evident. “And what do you propose?”
Lucia’s eyes gleamed with a lilac hue as she leaned in. “Move Gloria’s execution forward by three days. The siblings won’t reach her in time. Their desperation will make them easy to manipulate. That’s when I’ll step in—save them from you, reunite them with Gloria, and earn their trust. They’ll owe me everything.”
Agatha arched a brow. “And what do I get out of this, besides indulging your penchant for theatrics?”
“When it’s all over, Solomon will come alone to aid witches elsewhere. I know he will, and I’ll ensure the siblings stay distracted, leaving him alone and vulnerable. You’ll have the perfect chance to ambush and kill him, absorb his magic, and rid yourself of your most persistent adversary.”
Agatha’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “And what happens if this goes wrong? If your grand scheme backfires?”
Lucia’s smile didn’t falter. “Then I’ll take the fall. Alone.”
Agatha tapped her staff against the ground, her expression a mix of amusement and suspicion. “How noble of you. Fine. The burning will be moved forward. But if this fails—or if the siblings’ power proves more dangerous than you claim—I’ll ensure you regret it.”
Lucia inclined her head, her voice steady. “Understood.”
Agatha took a step closer, her green eyes narrowing. “One last thing. If you betray me again, there won’t be a place on this earth where you can hide.”
“Duly noted,” Lucia replied, her eyes unshaken, crossing her heart in a mockery of sincerity.
Agatha gave a curt nod before turning away, her form fading into the mist like a shadow melting into the night.
As Agatha vanished into the mist, Lucia’s faint smile faded into the calm, almost emotionless mask she wore most of the time.
Lucia watched the empty space where Agatha had stood, her fingers brushing over the protection runes carved into her wrist. Before she could use magic freely, she had to resort to carving in these runes into her flesh by hand, a meticulous, painful and semi-permanent process.
'However, It won’t be long now, till those become a problem of the past" she thought, watching the fiery thread of Mephisto’s signature dark magic inch closer to Salem with each passing day. His presence was unmistakable—a storm of power and malice on the horizon.
Mephisto was near.
A heavy sigh escaped Lucia's lips. She hated what she had become. Scheming, manipulating, pulling strings—it wasn’t who she was, nor who she had ever wanted to be.
To her, such actions were cruel, volatile, and fraught with risks that spiralled out of control too easily.
But choice had been a luxury she lost long ago.
Mephisto’s arrival left her no room for hesitation. When he came, she would need the siblings—and Solomon—exactly where she wanted them. Allies? Pawns? A line blurred too easily when survival was at stake.
Her eyes narrowed, the air around her thrumming faintly with restrained magic.
Let the game begin.
(End of Chapter)