Silence consumes the young witch as time escapes her grasp. She retreats further, and further within a shell of solitude with each passing second. Late one night Ada finds herself wandering the halls. She finds light spilling out from beneath Hecate's door. When she enters the room Hecate sits at the end of her bed with a blank stare directed at the wall. Her young face looks weathered with worry. Ada does her best not to stare. The young instructor's sunken blood shot eyes complete with grey under eye circles beckon.

"May I come in?"

"I can do literally nothing to stop you," Hecate gesticulates.

"Hecate this will destroy you if you allow it."

"I am already destroyed. I do not understand why you continue to entertain the idea that I am in any way redeemable. I am married to the wizard of darkness. I am shell of a person. Chalk me up to a lost cause, and move on."

Ada tries to soften the harsh milieu of the room. "It was not a contract that you entered into with your free will intact."

"At this point it is entirely irrelevant. Gabriel made certain of that."

"What do you mean, Hecate?"

Her eyes scrutinize the floor below them. For a moment she is certain the intensity of her gaze could bore a whole in the floor. It does not prevent the anguish from overflowing from her eyes.

"He will return," she answers.

"I will see that he does not."

"You cannot stop him! He seeks to destroy me. Nothing you do will prevail against his efforts," she spews in anger.

"What convinces you that he will return? You have no more power to offer him."

"He will return for the parting gift that he left. It is not my power he seeks."

Ada furrows her brow. "This is the first I am hearing of a parting gift. Hecate what do you mean?"

She rockets off the bed, and across the room to an empty receptacle. In this case it happens to be her empty cauldron. She violently retches. Ada watches in horror as her young colleague empties the contents of her stomach into her cauldron. With the wave of her hand Hecate makes the bodily fluid disappears. Hecate brushes her teeth in silence. It is clear that she is overwhelmed by emotion from the trauma she has suffered.

"I can see that you are upset. Would you prefer not to discuss it? We can revisit the subject at a later date."

Her dark eyes lock with Ada's. "I would prefer that none of this ever happened. The permanence of the ramifications from this utterly torturous ordeal grows with every passing day."

Ada tips her head, "That is an odd turn of phrase."

"The episodes of emesis are not a by-product of anxiety, Ada. Rather, it is a common symptom of an utterly wretched condition of which I am currently suffering from. Which is undoubtedly a result of a forcibly consummated marriage."

Ada falls silent. Her words will offer no solace so she shifts into action. She envelopes Hecate in a warm embrace, and utilizes her handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes. Ada suddenly feels grossly underqualified to alleviate the pain that has consumed her colleague.

A twenty-two year old child with slate colored eyes stands before her. She gulps in an effort to choke back any emotion. He searches her eyes for answers. His efforts to tamp down his sense of self-loathing prove relatively futile.

"I simply assumed that the moniker Achilles was tribute to all the times I nearly killed… you. When I found out the truth I was quite relentless in the questions I asked. Ada was quite reluctant to answer them. She feared that the fifteen year old version of myself was not prepared to hear of how you suffered to simply bring me life. From my conception and beyond every bit of it was suffering on your part. A round of hypovolemic shock, and later on sepsis, both which nearly killed you. The other half of my biology trying to rip me from your arms. You choosing to offer me an opportunity at a life worth living only to result in being dragged to the gallows. I fear that I have only ever brought you pain. Now I am here, and your suffering continues."

A tear begins its descent down her cheek. "I assure you that I would do it again."

"How can you even say that? Your magic is corrupted, and you run the risk of losing it all together. Every bit of this is my fault. Maybe Ada is right in thinking that I am darkness, it does seem to follow me, wherever I go."

"Have you taken action to set any of this in motion?"

"No. It was never my intention. If I had known the consequences would be this dire I never would have come here."

"Have you broken the code?"

"No," he insists as he runs his fingers through his dark hair.

"The burden does not fall at your feet."

"What happens to witching if the best witch ceases to have magic? Does the craft begin to wither, and die? If you are unable to mold young witches into upstanding members of the community what then?"

"I have no answer to that."

"Evil prevails. I should have heeded Miss Cackle's warning."

"Not to come here?"

"It is obvious that none of this would happen if I hadn't."

Hecate finds herself being drawn to the timepiece resting on her chest.

"It is time running out on a spell that should have never been cast."

He furrows his brow, "I don't understand."

"If I am not mistaken tomorrow is your birthday."

"That hardly matters right now."

"I would suspect that is why all of this has happened."

"I find myself concerned about a far more troubling, ominous scenario. All of Cackles being thrust into utter obscurity by…"

She cuts him off, "Dead men tell no tales."

"If the spell that blocked your memory is broken who is to say that other magic will not reverse as well?"

"That is highly improbable."

"What is to stop Gabriel from returning from the deepest pits?"

"No one is summoning him. It would be a reckless disregard for the code."

"What shall we do about your magic?"

"I do not have a prophetic answer on that subject, Sebastian."

"I am certain that you are utterly exhausted from the disastrous turn of events. I don't doubt you would welcome some sleep. I should leave you," he turns to leave.

Hecate rises from her seat on the bed. She manages to maintain upright posture despite the fact that her legs are as stable as a bowl of jell-o.

"Wait," she calls after him.

He stops at the door, and returns to her side.

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom?"

"It occurs to me that I am not the only one in need of remedy."

Without warning she carefully wraps her arms around him and envelopes him in a hug. After a moment the shock wears off, and he hugs her back. Feeling physically weak she unlocks her arms.