WESTVIEW WAS FULL OF CHEERFUL TRICK-OR-TREATERS. Even though the kids showed up out of nowhere, they roamed the streets, playing and soaking up their youth. It went unphased by everyone. Kids and teens of all ages were exploring the small town, dressed up and with bags full of a variety of candy; while they had a Halloween to remember, Eszter will remember that she spent this night moping around. A night meant to be about having a good time dressed up as whatever, getting free candy, and causing trouble, Eszter couldn't be bothered to enjoy it. Not with her altercation with Wanda still fresh.

Eszter admits she might've lost her head a bit back there, but what was the witch supposed to do? She was fuming at Wanda's accusation. How dare Wanda blame Eszter for all the mishaps happening in Westview? Eszter can see how Wanda could assume she has something to do with it, but to blatantly call Eszter a screwup was hurtful.

     Pietro attempted to coax Eszter to join him and find Wanda, but Eszter refused; the wound was still fresh, and Eszter was too angry to think about seeing her sister after that harsh blow to the chest. The witch figured they both needed space--if Eszter went back, she might get triggered and cause another fight. Besides, Eszter didn't want her bad mood to ruin Tommy and Billy's first Halloween, so she opted to distance herself in the meantime. The flame in her belly was scorching and too hot to even think about forgiving Wanda.

     When sisters fight, the claws come out, but they always make up in the end. Eventually.

     Instead, Eszter opted to people-watch. She adores how the children shouted the traditional Halloween song with their arms stretched wide, pulling their bags open as they awaited a new wave of candy. Their costumes were curated perfectly for each child--some dressed as princesses, monsters, and superheroes. Westview was unusually festive. Teenagers looked just as excited to dress up tonight, especially without the mockery of their friends, feeling like children in their hearts. They'd all run up and down driveways feeling giddy, nudging their shoulders into one another.

     Eszter spotted a group of teens amongst the crowd, two boys and two girls, all dressed up in different themes and cracking jokes. Whatever the first boy said, it had the other three throwing their head back and cackling into the wind. The two girls clutched one another to stable each other as their knees nearly gave out from underneath them, and the other boy nodded with a huge smile, agreeing. Eszter felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat, a deep pang stabbed in the middle of her chest, and her stomach churned regretfully as she wallowed in her dismay. It was like a shot in the heart that took Eszter by surprise.

     She was jealous. Eszter hated how everything ended the way it did, but she had no one to blame. But she could blame the world, right? If it weren't for its cruelness, then Eszter would've never put herself into these sorts of situations. She wouldn't be so self-destructive, deceiving her conscious or shoving everything far away in a small box. Why should Eszter dismiss how she'd been treated through her youth? Why's any of that Eszter's fault?

     Resentment was a bitch, but so was Eszter.

     Suddenly, Eszter was whipped with a rush of adrenaline before she felt her breath shorten almost instantly, and her chest started to squeeze tightly, then her hands became clammy. Eszter inhaled hard, but it felt like she was drowning and couldn't find air. The pounding in her ears thumped louder and louder until it was all Eszter could hear; the witch's chest jumped up and down rapidly as she attempted to restore her normal breathing, but it felt too far for the witch to rescue. Why was her heart hurting so much? Why can't she breathe? Eszter scavenged for answers, but the more she pondered her worries, the witch started to tremble. Like a mini earthquake in her body, Eszter clenched her fists as if the ground herself, but the witch watched as her fists shook.

     Eszter shakily sucked in a gasp of air, suddenly feeling breathless.

     Her vision started to get blurry with the tears glossing over her eyes, and her head suddenly felt dizzy. Eszter panicked for a mere second; why can't Eszter breathe? Oh, God. But then, Eszter was angry with herself. How sad was that? She was scared for her life, but she was so mad that she was fuming at the time.

     Squeezing her eyes shut, Eszter forced herself to shut everything out again. If she keeps herself in control, then Eszter won't need to worry about messing up any more of Wanda's picture-perfect life.

     "Nice costume."

     Eszter nearly retaliates spitefully, but the witch recognizes his voice instantly. The witch told herself to breathe out through her mouth, arguing with her thoughts to shut up and act natural. What would she look like if Wesley caught Eszter having a near panic attack? For some witch, Eszter could barely keep her emotions in check.

     The witch fluttered her eyes open and glanced over her shoulder, shooting Wesley a look that told him she wasn't in the mood. As if sensing this, Wesley approached Eszter with a bit more caution. Eszter's eyes dragged to Wesley's outfit, nearly snorting at his choice of costume--he looked like an assassin-slash-sorcerer dressed in a blue suit-like top with a hood, overlayered by a long coat and black pants, with a pair of combat boots clunking loudly under his steps.

     The witch raised her brows as if silently wondering what Wesley was wearing. He resembled Doctor Strange if she squinted hard enough.

     "Oh, someone's in a bad mood," Wesley's comment sounded too sarcastic for Eszter's liking, but she shoved it off.

     "I will open the ground up and watch you fall in if you keep talking," threatened the witch, sending Wesley a sneer.

     He wasn't one to ignore Eszter's threats, knowing the powerful witch would probably do much worse; Wesley held his hands in surrender. "Sorry," he apologizes, shooting her a puzzled frown. "That would explain . . . that."

     Eszter slowly followed his gesture to the sky, grimacing at the scenic; the sky was a scary shade of purple that looked frightening, and the black clouds didn't make it any better. A soft haze started to brew just around her ankles like water, but Eszter could see something swarming the cracks of the earth. In fact, Eszter could feel it thumping beneath the surface, and it was almost like it was calling Eszter to continue and rip the world apart. The witch merely stared at the ground with an expression of indifference; she wondered if it should frighten her by the complexity of her powers or the hunger for more. Eszter had wondered for many years, and for the most part, the witch feared her capabilities, but she was horrified of her actions when she was too deep.

     "Can I . . ." Eszter starts but shortly stops, pondering the question that swam in her head. While Wesley is her only friend in Westview, Eszter doesn't know how much she can trust Wesley with her problems. It was a burden she carried, refusing to dump that load on someone she barely knew.

     Wesley lifted a brow. "Can you what?"

     "Can I be honest?" She asks. Wesley doesn't respond, but it pushes Eszter to continue. "For so long, I always wondered about this--my powers. I wasn't always scared of it; I loved it. There was something about it that made me feel so . . . empowered, and there was this voice in the back of my head, edging me closer to the edge of the darkness." Eszter laughs pathetically. "I almost killed someone just for the thrill of it, and ever since then . . . I don't think I've ever been the same since."

     Frowning dejectedly, Wesley parted his lips as if he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth. He wanted to hear everything Eszter wanted to talk about, to understand the witch better, and this felt like the first time she was allowing Wesley into her life. It wasn't just about learning magic, but Eszter trusted Wesley to hold her feelings in his hands and care for them as friends should.

     Friends. Wesley felt a twinge of guilt circle his chest, aching a little.

     "I know it's important I learn magic; I get it now, but . . ." Eszter's eyes find the same group of teens in the distance, messing about without a care in the world. "I wonder if that means everything changes. Not just a costume change but my entire lifestyle. I'm not the same normal Sokiovian girl who was experimented on and has enhanced superpowers." Her eyes couldn't pull away from the teens, especially when the first boy and girl cuddled into each other's sides. "I'm a fugitive now. I have no chance at a normal life. But what is normal anymore?"

     "You have the powers of a god now, Eszter," Wesley reminds in awe. "Who can stop the Dark Witch? You're capable of tearing worlds apart, creating dark dimensions, and possibly, ruling everyone and everything. Why let those people control you like a wild animal when you can finally rule the world." Wesley looks at Eszter closely. "You're free, not chained."

     "It doesn't feel like I am," sighed Eszter. "I feel like I'm losing my grip on everything, and I can't fix anything. It's like . . . It's like this heavy feeling keeps weighing me down, and every time I try to get up, it pushes me down. No matter how much I try to right my wrongs, no matter how much I try to move on, this voice in the back of my head won't let me go."

     Wesley frowns. "That feeling never really goes away," he admits. This wasn't something Wesley ever talked about, and certainly, not to someone he barely knows; however, Wesley understands the pain Eszter might be going through. "That heavy pit in your chest that dips almost every second, and it feels like you just want to give up. It stays with you for years."

     Eszter hardly heard much about Wesley's story, making everything about her; the witch had always wondered more about her new friend. She always wondered where he came from, who he was, and the story behind him. Eszter knows Agnes isn't his birth mother but a foster mother, just as Pepper was hers. While Eszter thought about what must've happened, she knew not to pry because she didn't like exposing her past like it was a show to be entertained. Eszter understands the pain behind troubled upbringings.

     "Did you ever overcome it?"

     Wesley inhaled sharply through his nose, contemplating the question. "I don't have an answer for that," he says truthfully. "I guess . . . I never really let myself think too much about it. If I do, then I'll drown in self-pity and self-hatred."

     Eszter stares at Wesley solemnly, suddenly feeling connected. "You lost someone, too?" She wondered; it felt like a familiar feeling--the self-hatred, the grief, the guilt. Wesley wore the same scars on his sleeves, just as Eszter. He hides his a lot better than she does. "Was it your birth mom?"

     Almost clamming up, Wesley forced himself to put on a brave smile. "More like my whole family," he breathed heavily, trying to shove his past emotions back into the hole of his heart, refusing to whither back into that mindset. "It was a long time ago, though. I've . . . I've come to terms with it. Moved on with my life."

     "And Agnes cared for you."

     His smile tightens. "Yeah," Wesley says. "I owe her everything. She saved me at my lowest. Without Agnes, I wouldn't be here now. Just like you." He rubs the back of his neck and pink cheeks. "I didn't exactly grow up with people surrounding me like those you have--your friends. I'm not really . . . sure how to go about this, being a friend, but I'm here if you need someone to talk to. I know you probably don't think this, but I consider you a friend."

     "Are we, though? Friends, I mean," Eszter burrows her brows, glancing at Wesley with a look burning in her eyes, suddenly worrying Wesley. Eszter sounded so icy; it scared the boy how quickly she changed. But then, he wondered if she might've discovered something beyond his knowledge, which was worrying.

     He was taken aback by Eszter's sudden change in demeanor as if she switched the fuses in her brain. "I mean, I would hope so," he tested the waters by joking. Wesley knows Eszter can be a little . . . temperamental, but to witness it so up close spooked him. He had a traumatic upbringing, but Eszter . . . now that's a different story. "Unless . . . you don't want to be?"

      And so it clicked. Wesley finally understood Eszter's distress signs too late. The witch was suddenly fuming beside him. She glares at him like she could kill him, silently blowing smoke out of her ears and feeling betrayed by someone she considered a friend. Unfortunately, Eszter trusted someone she thought she could trust, but she felt ridiculous for believing someone who didn't care about her. Not really. It was all about the status and the powers; Wesley only wanted Eszter to forge into the Dark Witch for his benefit--Eszter hasn't quite figured out what that may be, but she'll figure it out later.

     "You're really just gonna to sit there and play dumb with me, Wesley?" Eszter jumped off the bench like it was on fire, glaring at Wesley.

     "Whoa, hold on," now, Wesley was genuinely confused. "I feel like you're mad at me for something?"

     "You don't say?" Eszter exclaimed. "And now, you're acting as if you don't know what I'm talking about."

     Wesley frowned, matching Eszter's loudness. "That's because I don't know what you're talking about."

     "How could you sit there and consider us friends when you lied to my face every day, knowing that the Dark Witch wasn't the only powerful witch? That an equally powerful, psychotic witch would hunt me down," Eszter stared at Wesley. "Is your sob story a lie, too?"

     "Of course not!" Wesley exclaimed, almost offended. "I wouldn't lie about something like that, and I wouldn't lie to you, Eszter."

     "See, that's where I don't believe you," says Eszter, pointing the finger at Wesley's face with her teeth bared, practically seething at the boy. "You talk about wanting to help me, wanting me to become this witch, but for what? So, you could use me just like everyone else?"

     Keeping calm, Wesley rises to his feet. "I haven't lied about anything, Eszter," he tries to reassure, but he can't because he was lying right through his teeth. Wesley hated himself for lying to Eszter, but it was the only way he could get her to trust him. "You have to believe me."

     "You're doing it right now! Is this why you wanted me to become the Dark Witch?" Eszter scoffed bitterly. She couldn't believe she let herself be manipulated by Wesley; part of her never trusted him, Eszter was always annoyed by him, but she didn't expect him to be like everyone else. "You want to be front row of a prophecy between the Scarlet Witch and me. That's it, isn't it? Or--Or, is it because you thought if we were friends, we'd, what? Rule the world or something?"

     Now, Wesley stared at Eszter like she was crazy. "No, I didn't want this to happen! I've never . . ." Wesley rolls his lips and kisses his teeth in frustration, turning away to keep his composure. Under his breath, Wesley mutters. "There are some things you don't know, and I admit that, but . . . I'm just . . . I wanted to protect you from this."

     "How is keeping secrets from me protecting me?" Eszter snapped. "If it weren't for Agnes telling me about it, I would've been--"

     Wesley furrows his brows, shaking his head in horror. "Wait, she told you?"

     Eszter scoffed. "Yeah, because she knew how dangerous the Scarlet Witch is that she had to warn me," the Dark Witch was red in the face and hot on her ears. Eszter was fuming that she practically had steam pouring out of her ears, and the adrenaline was rushing through her veins. Eszter was almost shaking aggressively. Eszter couldn't stand still. "I can't believe you."

     With his heart pounding against his ribcage, Wesley felt anxious as he could feel it was a losing battle, and he needed to fix things before things got too far. Wesley didn't know what else he could do to get Eszter to understand why he kept certain truths from her, but the witch was beyond reasoning. She refuses to believe he did it for her own good, nor does Eszter want to understand that Wesley wasn't out to get her; sure, Wesley planned to use the witch for his own gain, but he spent so much time with Eszter that he actually likes her. He considers her his friend.

     "Fine, you wanna know the truth? I'll tell you the truth," Wesley huffed. "You are the Dark Witch, a powerful, demonic entity designed to destroy anything with a wave of her finger. You're more powerful than the Sorcerer Supreme himself, but you . . . you are the very being that is feared in the magical world. Agnes, my own mother, is terrified of you!"

     Eszter felt her heart quicken, but refuses to acknowledge it. "You're just being cynical," she scoffed in retort, though it sounded flat.

     "I'm not, Eszter, and you know it. The Dark Witch is the Destroyer of Worlds--a harbinger of all destruction. She's destined to either rule or destroy the cosmos . . . with or against her sister. That is if they choose to."

     Suddenly, Eszter's breath hitched. "Sister?" She turned around and faced Wesley, taken aback by his abrupt admission. "As in . . .?"

     "The Scarlet Witch is your sister."

     As if things could get worse, Eszter felt like Wesley had thrown an unexpecting bomb in her hands, letting it detonate in her face; her whole world was suddenly thrown in a loop, and Eszter was struggling to catch the pieces flying off. This couldn't be true, could it? There's no way. Agnes never mentioned this.

     "You're lying," Eszter accused, but part of her knew he wasn't.

     "You know I'm not," Wesley studies Eszter, partially wary as he examines his surroundings, noting the change from the light and airy atmosphere warped with the destructive and unpredictable. Welsey watched as Wesley was slowly being corrupted against Eszter's will. "Eszter . . ."

     "You don't know what you're talking about," spat Eszter, refusing to believe a word he says. "Agnes said . . . Agnes said the Dark Witch's sole purpose was to destroy the Scarlet Witch. And you think the Scarlet Witch is my sister? The Scarlet Witch, who wants to kill me to be the strongest witch ever to live? Do you hear how insane that sounds?"

     "I know it's hard to believe, Eszter, but it's the truth."

     "No," Eszter shakes her head, turning away. Then, the witch stomps away. "That's bullshit."

     "Eszter," Wesley calls, but she ignores him; she continues ranting about how stupid his lie was and saying something that Wesley couldn't understand. "Eszter, wait! Where are you going?"

     "Anywhere but here!"

     "You wanted the truth, and I gave you the truth," scoffed Wesley, bewildered. "I told you you wouldn't want to know, but you asked for it! I knew it would crush you if you knew the truth, but--"

     "Stop talking, Wesley," Eszter warned.

     "No, because this is what you wanted, right? The truth? You, the Dark Witch, a powerful witch with the power to do just about anything. You have no idea just how influential your being is to many witches and sorcerers. The number of enemies you've unleashed."

     Eszter pinched her brows. "Wesley, stop . . ."

     "I thought we were getting along! We were talking just fine, and then you just flipped on me and called me a liar? That's not fair, Eszter."

     "Not fair?" Eszter exclaims with a scoff, shaking her head angrily. "You're so stupid!"

     "Fine! There's one more thing you should know," he stops walking, watching as Eszter continues. "The Dark Witch can manipulate the balance of life . . . and death." At that, the witch stopped not too far from Wesley, taken aback by this knowledge. "Ever wonder why it's so easy to take a life? It's because you are the witch of life and death."

     Eszter whips around, staring hard at Wesley with an equally puzzled expression. "What?" she whispers, afraid to ask. "What are you talking about?"

     "I'm sorry, Eszter. I didn't know how else to tell you this," Wesley breathes. God, this is wrong.

     "Tell me what? Tell me what, Wes?"

     "Look, you have to promise me that you won't go to Agnes' house," Wesley asks. However, Eszter frowns dejectedly, not understanding. "You have to promise me you won't do anything stupid if I tell you."

     "Why can't I go to Agnes' house?" Eszter wondered worriedly, baffled by Wesley's change of behavior. He looked . . . scared. But the longer Eszter waited, the more frustrated she got. "If you can't bother to tell me, then what's the point in trying?"

     As if ready to walk away and leave Wesley to worry alone, the boy finally gave his response; it wasn't what Eszter would've wanted; actually, it's not what she wanted at all. It was pointless and clear that Wesley was avoiding telling Eszter the truth, especially after dropping the bomb like that. Eszter discovers the ability to manipulate life and death, and she's supposed to overlook this by trusting Wesley? Hell no.

     "You just have to trust me, okay? I--I get that I lied to you before, but Jesus, Eszter, please! You can't go to my mother's house! I'm trying to save you from yourself!"

     "Are you kidding me?" Eszter cried out in despair, rightfully irritated.

     "I know, I know!" Wesley stressed, clutching the sides of his head until he was fisting his hair in frustration. He felt so hopeless. "But I care about you, Eszter! Dammit, I care! I've never . . . felt this way about another person before, but ever since meeting you . . ."

     "Oh, God," Eszter gasped as she turned away, a hand pressed to her forehead as if she might faint. "You're joking. Please, tell me you're joking"

     "I've never felt like this before because I've never met someone like you," admitted Wesley. His heart twisted at her reaction. "I'm risking my life telling you this. Please, Eszter, don't go. Agnes . . . she has--"

     "There you both are!" On cue, Agnes's screeching voice broke the tense conversation between the teens, wafting a laugh from the woman dressed in a typical witch costume--pointy hair and all. Agnes's grey wig was frizzy and falling in her face, annoying the woman whenever it got stuck in her mouth. Agnes hiked up her dress to not fall and flashed Wesley a tight smile. "Sweetheart, I've been looking for you everywhere! I thought I told you to wait and pass out the candy for when I got back?"

     Wesley felt his knees buckle beneath his weight, nearly tumbling to the ground before he caught himself before he could crash. Like a scared dog with his tail tucked between his tail, Wesley wished he'd run as far away before Agnes got here. He knew his luck would drain the second he tried to tell Eszter what he's been dying to say, but he hoped to be gone before his mom could show up. Unfortunately, Wesley was too late. Agnes knows when and where Wesley is before he can realize his witch of a mother has put a binding spell on him that shows his exact location. Basically, Agnes put a tracking spell on Wesley in case he tried to . . . explore for too long.

     He figured Agnes did it when he was a bit younger; he was always a wanderer, sometimes for his own good, but Wesley knew why Agnes was . . . protective of Wesley.

     "Mother, I . . ." Wesley stepped back as if the distance would be his shield of armor from his mother, but when his eyes met the woman's, there was no chance of getting out of this. Wesley knows how powerful his mother is, but with the Darkhold, Agnes is untouchable. She's capable of unfathomable magic. "I was just . . ."

     "Oh, I know what you were doing, sweetheart," Agnes was practically seething through her teeth, and her eyes stared at Wesley darkly. Her lips cracked and split into an eerie smile, but it faded and was replaced by a look of sympathy. Agnes didn't worry about Wesley but faced Eszter with a look in her eyes that worried the teen. "I hope he didn't scare you too much. Things like this are hard for first-time witches, but trust me, this doesn't happen often. If you need--"

     "What are you talking about?"

     Agnes' sympathetic smile fades into a frown. "He hasn't told you?"

     Eszter's eyes flickered to Wesley's guilty figure; anger and betrayal washed over the witch at the thought of Wesley keeping more things from him. She knew she shouldn't have trusted him. He withheld so much information from Eszter that the witch didn't know what to believe anymore.

       "He doesn't seem to tell me anything, apparently," Eszter turns to Agnes.

     What would Wesley say that would've freaked Eszter out?

     Agnes pursed her lips nervously, wondering if she should tell Eszter, but the woman could tell Eszter didn't seem too happy to discover Wesley had been keeping things from her. While Agnes assures herself that she will return to Wesley when she can, the dark-haired woman figures it would be best if she doesn't withhold any more secrets from Eszter.

     "Well," Agnes started, though she didn't know where to begin. "Something . . . weird happened, and I've never seen this before. This magic is unlike anything I've ever seen, and I'm not sure what to do."

     Eszter's gaze jumped from Agnes to Wesley, wondering if this had anything to do with what he mentioned. But . . . there's no way? Eszter finds it hard to believe that she could easily kill someone just as it is to bring someone to life; Eszter refuses to believe that. Well, not that hard to believe. She tried so hard to forget those dark moments of her past, but they stuck with her like glue. Eszter strayed from that part of herself, but for how long?

     But what a coincidence Agnes comes to Eszter about the magic she's never seen and Wesley's confession. Maybe Eszter's just overthinking this too hard. Yeah, that's it. Eszter's just freaking herself out.

     "How weird?"

     Agnes pushes her tongue against the roof of her mouth, sighing dejectedly. "Well, I think it might be best if you just saw for yourself.

     It worried Eszter about how strange Agnes was acting, mainly because the woman came to her as if Eszter would know. The woman who knew more magic than Eszter had turned to her for help. Plus, Eszter was a little petty, and she was angry at Wesley for lying to her. She wanted to ignore Wesley's pleas to stay away from Agnes. Instead, Eszter wanted to spite Wesley and do the opposite and follow Agnes.

     While looking Wesley in the eyes, Eszter responds. "Sure, Agnes," she watched as Wesley's face crumbled as Eszter went against his wishes, choosing to follow the woman. "I would love to."

     "Eszter, I'm--" Wesley goes to say something, but Agnes lifts her arm, stopping him.

     "I think you've done enough, young man," scolded the woman, staring coldly at Wesley. "We'll talk about this when you come home."

     "Mother--"

     "When. You. Come. Home," Agnes warns threateningly.

     Then, Agnes led Eszter back toward the parking lot where Agnes parked her car, but once the witch turned her back to the mother and son, Agnes turned her attention to her son. Wesley awaited his punishment like he was used to it, but then Agnes turned her nose and marched away; Agnes left Wesley alone in the park.

☁︎isabel's thoughts☁︎
❝ this chapter was actually a lot of fun to write. I think, at this point, I don't know if I plan to drag this book out anymore. That's why it feels so quick paced.

But I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did :]
This is when things start to get more interesting. It definitely feels weird to be at this stage of Eszter's journey, but holy moley, it's crazy! ❞