Chapter 6 The Reversal

The girl's breath came in short, sharp gasps.

The weight of the baby in her arms felt wrong.

Lighter.

She tightened her grip, her fingers trembling as she peered down.

The baby was changing.

Its tiny hands curled into delicate fists, then shrunk.

Its eyes, once wide and alert, dimmed, lids drooping.

Its chest, which had risen and fallen in steady breaths, slowed-as if it were winding down.

Her pulse thundered.

"No, no, no," she whispered, shaking her head violently.

She adjusted her hold, as if cradling the baby tighter could stop what was happening. But she could feel it.

A force pulling the child backward in time.

The baby wasn't growing older.

It was growing younger.

Its fingers were no longer small and grasping-now they were buds, forming but unfinished.

Its body curled in on itself, tinier, more fragile.

Its features smoothed, until-

It was barely more than a whisper of existence.

Her hands trembled.

Her breathing hitched.

Then-

The baby disappeared.

The weight was gone.

Her arms felt empty.

Her gaze shot downward.

The space where the baby had been was now just air.

Nothing.

Like it had never been there at all.

A soft laugh echoed in the room.

The witch.

The girl's head snapped up.

The woman stood in the dim candlelight, her face half-hidden by the hood of her robes.

Her eyes gleamed with something cruel.

"You thought the countdown was only a matter of days passing," the witch murmured.

Her voice was soft and knowing, a quiet mockery.

"But time moves both ways."

The girl's stomach twisted.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

The mark on her wrist burned, the dark ink twisting, curling.

She gritted her teeth.

"What have you done?" she demanded, her voice shaking.

The witch took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"I didn't do anything," she said.

"You did."

The girl's skin prickled.

She looked down at herself-

And froze.

Her fingers-

Her hands-

They weren't the same.

Smaller.

Her dress hung loose, like it wasn't made for her anymore.

Her legs felt shorter.

Her body was shrinking.

She pressed a hand to her chest.

Her heartbeat felt lighter, weaker.

She stumbled backward, shaking her head.

"No," she whispered.

It wasn't just the baby.

She was reversing too.

The witch tilted her head, as if enjoying the sight.

"The countdown isn't just for the child," she murmured.

The girl's throat went dry.

The black mark on her wrist spread, creeping up her forearm like ink sinking into her skin.

Her mind raced-she had to stop this.

She willed her legs to move, to stand, to fight-

But her body was weakening.

The air around her felt thicker, pressing in on her from all sides.

Her memories blurred.

She tried to hold onto them-who she was, what had happened, why she was here-

But they were slipping away.

Her name-

Her home-

Her past-

All of it was unraveling, piece by piece.

Her limbs grew smaller.

Her breaths grew shallower.

The world around her began to shift.

---

Darkness.

A dull hum.

Then-

A soft cry.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She was lying on the ground, but the floor was colder, harder.

The wooden planks of the witch's chamber were gone.

Now-

Stone.

She sat up, head spinning.

The air smelled different-damp, old, forgotten.

The walls were made of rough stone, cracked with age.

A heavy iron door stood in the corner.

Something was wrong.

Her hands pressed against the cold ground.

They felt... smaller.

Her arms-

Her body-

She reached up, grasping at the fabric of her dress-

And nearly choked.

The dress was too big.

She was even younger now.

The countdown hadn't stopped.

It had taken her further back.

Her chest rose and fell in ragged gasps.

Then-

A sound.

Soft. Faint.

A whimpering cry.

She turned.

A cradle sat in the far corner of the room.

She swallowed.

Her hands trembled as she crawled forward, inch by inch, her heartbeat like thunder in her ears.

She peered over the wooden edge of the cradle-

And froze.

A baby lay inside.

Tiny.

Fragile.

Wrapped in soft white blankets.

Her stomach twisted into a tight knot.

The child had dark eyes.

Familiar dark eyes.

The same as-

Her own.

Her breath hitched.

Her vision blurred.

It wasn't just any baby.

It was her.

Her newborn self.

She stumbled back.

Her fingers clutched at her temples, trying to make sense of it.

No.

No, this isn't real.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her heartbeat wild.

The countdown had taken her all the way back.

Had reset her to the very beginning.

The iron door creaked open.

She stiffened.

A figure stepped inside.

A familiar shadowed silhouette.

The witch.

The woman stood there, unmoving, watching her.

Then, slowly, a smile curved her lips.

"Welcome back," she whispered.

The girl's hands clenched into fists.

Her pulse pounded.

Her eyes burned.

She had to break the cycle.

Before it was too late.