Chapter 5 The Mark of the Witch

The girl stood frozen, the weight of the baby pressing against her arms as the witch's words echoed in her mind.

The mark of the countdown.

She stared at the black lines twisting across her wrist, pulsing like veins filled with ink. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

"What does it mean?" she whispered, though she wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

The witch stepped closer, her dark robes trailing across the wooden floor. "It means you belong to the countdown now. The days are slipping away."

The baby shifted in the girl's arms, heavier than before. She glanced down and felt her stomach twist-

The child had changed again.

Its fingers were longer, its features sharper, its dark eyes filled with something that wasn't innocence.

It was growing too fast.

The girl tightened her grip on the infant, as if holding on would slow whatever terrible magic was at work. "Why is this happening?" she demanded. "Why is it aging like this?"

The witch tilted her head. "Because time is moving differently for the child."

The girl's skin prickled. "What happens when it reaches eighteen days?"

The witch smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"You don't want to know."

A shudder ran through the girl.

She took a step back, then another. She had to get out. Had to get away from this woman, from the whispers, from the suffocating air pressing in around her.

But then-

The door vanished.

The walls shifted, the room stretching into darkness.

The witch raised a hand, and suddenly-

The girl wasn't in the room anymore.

She was somewhere else.

---

A memory.

A cottage in the middle of the woods. A fire crackling in the hearth.

A woman standing by the table, her face hidden in the dim candlelight.

The girl knew this place.

She had been here before.

The woman turned.

And suddenly, the girl couldn't breathe.

It was her mother.

Her mother, alive. Standing right in front of her.

Tears burned in the girl's eyes. "Mama?"

Her mother smiled. A sad, knowing smile.

"You don't remember, do you?"

The girl shook her head. "Remember what?"

Her mother's gaze flickered to the baby in her arms.

The girl followed her eyes-

And froze.

Because the baby wasn't just any baby.

It was her.

A newborn version of herself, staring up at her with familiar dark eyes.

Her legs felt weak. Her mind spun.

"What-"

Her mother stepped closer. "You were never meant to return here."

The girl's hands trembled. "I don't understand."

Her mother's expression darkened. "The witch took you. And now she's taking you again."

"No," the girl whispered. "That's not possible."

Her mother's face was filled with sorrow. "You don't have much time."

The shadows rushed forward.

The world collapsed.

---

She was back in the room.

Gasping. Sweating. Clutching the baby too tightly.

The witch watched her with cold amusement.

"Did you enjoy your little glimpse of the past?"

The girl's hands trembled. "That wasn't real."

The witch chuckled. "Oh, but it was."

The girl's heart pounded. "Why did you take me?"

The witch stepped forward, her gaze locked on the baby. "Because you belong to the countdown."

The air around them shifted.

The baby let out a tiny giggle.

And the mark on the girl's wrist burned.

She gasped, doubling over as pain shot through her arm. The black veins beneath her skin twisted, spreading toward her fingers.

"No," she whimpered.

She felt weaker.

As if something was draining her.

The witch smiled.

"The countdown isn't just for the child," she said. "It's for you too."

The girl's vision blurred.

The weight of the baby felt unbearable.

Her body was changing.

Her fingers looked smaller.

Her legs felt shorter.

And then she realized-

She wasn't just holding a baby.

She was becoming one.