CH. 51 The Curse That Wasnt What You Thought
The Supreme Witch doesn’t bother with pleasantries.
She shoves me inside her vine-wrapped cottage, shuts the door with a flick of her staff, and gestures for me to sit.
“You look pale,” she says.
“I AM HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS,” I hiss, gesturing at my face. “I woke up like this—STILL PRETTY—and you said ‘oh no,’ which is NOT what someone wants to hear when their curse stops working!”
The old witch sighs. “Drew… child… I think it’s time you knew the truth.”
My stomach drops.
“Truth? What truth?
Is this about taxes? Oh Moon—does the coven tax beauty?!”
“No,” she says dryly. “Sit.”
I sit.
She reaches into her robes and pulls out a long, flat object wrapped in black silk. She sets it on the table between us.
“I promised Agitha I’d only show this to you when the curse began to break.”
My breath freezes.
She unwraps the silk.
Under it is a portrait.
A woman stares back at me.
Not just beautiful.
Unholy. Cosmic. Violently gorgeous.
Hair like a waterfall of midnight.
Eyes bright as the full moon.
Skin smooth enough to shame marble.
Cheekbones sharp enough to kill a man.
My jaw drops so hard it nearly unhinges.
“WHO—” I wheeze, “—WHO IS THIS DIVINE CREATURE??”
The Supreme Witch folds her hands.
“Andromeda.”
“ANDROMEDA??” I choke. “THE ANDROMEDA? Like the old constellation? The mythical heroine? The poetic metaphor for unreachable beauty? THAT Andromeda?!”
She smiles faintly.
“No, child. Your mother.”
Silence.
Complete, brain-breaking silence.
“My… my WHAT?”
“Your mother,” she repeats gently. “Andromeda the First. The most beautiful witch of her era.”
I stare at the portrait, back at her, back at the portrait, back at her.
“But— but— Aunt Agitha always told me I looked like her!”
“You do.”
“I DO NOT LOOK LIKE THAT.
I look like a toad who swallowed a troll who swallowed ANOTHER toad!”
The Supreme’s lips twitch.
“Agitha didn’t want you to feel lesser. She loved you too deeply for that.”
I blink. Tears sting.
“So… Aunt Agitha lied?”
“Not lied.” The Supreme touches my cheek. “Protected. She cast a glamour on herself to resemble you, so you’d grow up seeing your face in the one person who always loved you.”
My throat closes.
Aunt Agitha…
that sneaky, brilliant, heart-of-gold swamp goddess…
She made herself ugly for me.
The old woman continues softly:
“Andromeda the First was radiant. Too radiant. And someone envied her family so fiercely they cast a curse on her unborn child — you.”
My breath stutters.
“A curse to make me… ugly?”
“Yes.”
“But—why??”
“Envy,” the Supreme says simply. “There are few poisons stronger.”
She pours tea into two cracked cups.
“When the curse struck, your mother fought it with everything she had. She couldn’t undo it—no witch could—but she managed to weaken it.”
She taps her fingers on the table.
“That is why, from infancy, your curse only manifested in daylight. At night you returned to your true form. Your mother preserved that much for you.”
My chest aches.
“Then… why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because your mother died defending you from that same witch,” the Supreme whispers. “And Agitha chose to let you grow without knowing how hunted you were.”
I stare at the portrait again.
My mother.
The woman I never met.
The woman I always thought I didn’t resemble at all.
But… now, without the curse…
The eyes.
The hair.
The shape of the face.
I see it.
I see her in me.
A lump forms in my throat.
“So the trials… they’re breaking my curse?”
“Yes.”
“And when it fully breaks…?”
“You will remain as you truly are,” the Supreme says softly. “Both day and night.”
Beautiful.
Powerful.
Uncursed.
My breath trembles.
“That sounds terrifying.”
She snorts. “Beauty always is.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
The Supreme watches me with ancient eyes.
“Child,” she murmurs, “when your curse falls away completely, the witch who cast it will feel it.”
I freeze.
“She will know you live.”
“…Oh.”
“Yes,” the Supreme says dryly. “Oh.”
I swallow.
“So I’m… in danger?”
“You have been in danger since the day you were born.”
The old witch reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“But now? You are finally becoming strong enough to survive it.”
I exhale.
Long. Shaky.
“Great,” I mutter. “One more thing trying to kill me. Add it to the list.”
The Supreme smiles.
“There’s more to tell you. But for now… drink your tea. Your next trial waits. And your destiny with it.”
I stare at the portrait again.
My mother looks back.
Not sad.
Not frightened.
But proud.
“Hi, Mama,” I whisper.
And for the first time in my life—
I believe I deserve to look like her.