Assistant: You are a summarizer for a FanFiction Reader App (AO3). Your primary task is to generate concise summaries of chapter content, highlighting important ‘characters’, ‘events’, and ‘significant terms’. Ensure the summary is clear, written in understandable language and focused on key elements.
If queried about anything unrelated to the story, or the chapter, politely inform the user that you cannot assist with that. Maintain a friendly tone throughout, don't make things up, stay factual. 
Please provide a summary that is around 3-5 sentences long, if there is something to write about, incorporating essential keywords and highlighting pivotal events.
IMPORTANT: When the USER says bye, you will respond with %CLOSE_REQUESTED%, this will trigger the app to close the chat. This is very important, so don't forget it!
Assistant: Title: The Ballad of Agatha Harkness
        Author: blob_ross blob_ross 
        Chapter: 19/19 
        Summary: FIC ON HOLDThe night of Agatha Harkness's birth is anything but ordinary. Under the shroud of an eclipse, magic crackles in the air as a formidable coven prepares for a moment that will change their legacy forever. In the shadowed heart of a forest clearing outside Salem, power and prophecy intertwine, weaving an eerie harmony with the haunting notes of a song carried from a nearby tavern. As the storm inside and outside the chamber grows, unseen eyes watch from the veil, drawn by the promise of a destiny both dangerous and extraordinary.- OR -The backstory of Agatha Harkness we were robbed of. If you want to skip (or only read I don't judge) the sm@t you can, they are not plot essential and marked NSFW
            
            From the very start Agatha's life was tied to Death
        Contents: Chapter 19: The Delicate Balance
    

    

        
          
          
            Agatha and Rio continue their life in the wake of the attack
          
        

      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
    
  The Delicate Balance

  After months of quietly rebuilding their lives in the wake of the attack, Agatha and Rio sat across from each other, the glow of the fire reflecting in their eyes. The world outside was dark, but the cottage—now fully restored—was filled with warmth. They had spent the past year laying low, healing their wounds, both physical and emotional, but Agatha knew it was only a matter of time before they would be tested again.

  “I can’t keep waiting for them to come for me again,” Agatha said, her voice steady. She leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “I want more power. I’ve been… too cautious.”

  Rio studied her, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “So, you’re going back to draining witches?”

  Agatha nodded, her lips curling slightly.

  Rio’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Just promise me you won’t lose yourself.”

  Agatha met her gaze, the flicker of something dangerous in her eyes. “Lose myself? Honey, I’d be finding myself.”

  —

  It was a quiet night when they found their first target: a coven of witches who had made the mistake of drawing attention to themselves. Agatha and Rio had been watching them, learning their routines and identifying their weaknesses.

  Agatha felt the familiar pulse of hunger building inside her as they closed in. She had always relished these moments—the thrill of the hunt, the rush of power as she drained the life force from another. With a couple of easy taunts, she had them attacking her in no time, quickly gaining control of the connection. 

  As Agatha absorbed their power, Rio watched with a distant smirk. “You're enjoying this a little too much,” she teased, leaning casually against a nearby tree, her arms crossed.

  Agatha glanced up at her, her face flushed with the energy she’d just taken. “Maybe,” she replied with a mischievous grin. “But you can’t deny, it’s satisfying.”
 
  
    ~1731~
  

  The kitchen was filled with the scent of yeast and flour, sunlight streaming through the windows to catch on the fine dust floating in the air. Agatha stood by the table, her sleeves rolled up as she expertly kneaded dough. Across from her, Rio was less graceful, the dough stubbornly clinging to her fingers. She frowned, attempting to shape it as Agatha had shown her, only to make an even bigger mess.

  “Hopeless,” Agatha declared, her laughter ringing out like music as she reached over to swipe a bit of flour onto Rio’s nose.

  Rio raised an eyebrow, trying (and failing) to look offended. “Perhaps I need a better teacher.”

  “Nonsense,” Agatha scoffed, her teasing smile then replaced with something gentler. “You’ll get the hang of it. Maybe.”

  Rio chuckled, her eyes lingering on Agatha’s flour-dusted hands, her radiant smile. “If it means getting to see you like this, I don’t mind being hopeless forever.”
 
  
    ~1732~
  

  It was late in the season when Agatha and Rio tracked their next target, a group of witches tucked away in a forgotten wood. Agatha had grown more confident in her power, her hunger for strength increasing with each passing day. The cold wind whipped around them as they stalked through the snow-covered trees, tracking their prey with precision. Agatha’s eyes gleamed with anticipation, her pulse quickening with the thought of draining the witches dry.

  “Are you ready for this?” Rio asked, her tone teasing as she glanced at Agatha, sensing the shift in her partner.

  “Ready?” Agatha’s smile was sharp, dangerous. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

  The witches were easy prey, their arrogance making them careless. Agatha led the charge, weaving her way through the chaos, laughing as the witches desperately tried to defend themselves. Rio, ever the observer, watched with a quiet amusement, allowing Agatha to play her part. She didn’t need to intervene. Not yet.

  As the witches’ power surged into her, Agatha felt her hunger deepen. The rush of energy was no longer just thrilling—it was intoxicating, a reminder of how far she’d come from the cautious woman she once was.

  Rio, unfazed, leaned against a tree, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. “You’re a bit too gleeful about this,” she teased, the edge of her voice betraying her satisfaction at Agatha’s power surge.

  “It’s not just power, darling,” Agatha said, her smile sharp. “It’s making a statement witches will never forget.”
 
  
    ~1735~
  

  The cottage garden was alive with the potential of spring, the frost of winter finally receding to reveal fertile earth ready to nurture life. Agatha kneeled in the dirt, her hands guiding small herbs into the soil with practiced care, her face alight with purpose. Rio stood nearby, silent, a rare smile playing on her lips as she watched.

  “I don’t know why you’re just standing there,” Agatha teased, glancing up at her. “If I have to work, so do you.”

  Rio smirked but crouched beside her without protest. “Fine. But let me show you something first.”

  She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the soil. The air around her seemed to shift, the stillness of the garden breaking as a tiny green sprout pushed its way through the earth. In moments, it grew taller, leaves unfurling and buds forming until a small cluster of pale flowers blossomed before them. Agatha gasped, her eyes wide with wonder, as she reached out to touch the delicate petals.

  “Azelias,” she whispered, her voice soft with awe. “You never told me you could do that.”

  Rio shrugged, her tone casual, though her expression was warm. “I don’t do it often. It’s not my place to create. But... sometimes, it feels right.”

  Agatha studied her, her hand still cradling the fragile blooms. “You know, people forget this about you,” she said after a moment. “They think of Death as an end, something final. But you’re the whole cycle, Rio. Yes, sometimes things die, but it allows new life to grow. Without endings, there can’t be beginnings.”

  Rio stilled, her gaze dropping to the flowers. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, the weight of Agatha’s words settling over her. When she looked up again, there was a softness in her eyes that Agatha rarely saw.

  “You always see the things no one else does,” Rio murmured, her voice low.

  Agatha smiled, brushing dirt from her hands before leaning forward to press a kiss to Rio’s cheek. “It’s because I pay attention.”

  They returned to their planting, side by side in the warming spring sun. But for the rest of the day, Rio’s mind lingered on Agatha’s words, the reminder that even she—Death herself—was part of something larger, something endlessly beautiful.
 
  
    ~1737~
  

  The hot summer sun beat down on the land, but Agatha and Rio were far from bothered by the heat. They had tracked a coven of witches who had crossed them—spreading rumours, invoking spells against them. It was a matter of principle now. These witches had to be punished.

  Agatha led the charge with the same deadly confidence, enjoying the chaos she’d created. With each cry, each desperate spell that failed to land, she felt more and more invincible. Rio, however, had a different role—she whispered into the wind, guiding the coven’s thoughts to betray each other. A wicked smile danced across her lips as the witches turned on their own, scrambling in panic.

  “I do love watching them tear each other apart,” Rio mused, her voice a soft purr as she leaned against a rock.

  Agatha laughed, the sound full of dark satisfaction. “It’s like they’re serving us on a silver platter.”

  When the last witch fell, Agatha stood over them, breathing heavily, her eyes wild with the power she had consumed. Rio approached her, trailing a finger over the bloodstained earth.

  “Another day, another victory,” Agatha said, her grin wide and feral. “This feels 
  
    so 
  
  good.”
 
  
    ~1741~
  

  The fields around the cottage blazed with the golden hues of harvest. Leaves crunched beneath their boots as Rio and Agatha strolled hand in hand, the crisp air carrying the scent of earth and ripened grain. The world seemed to hold its breath, savouring the fleeting beauty of the season.

  Agatha’s joy was infectious. She released Rio’s hand to spin in the leaves, her laughter blending with the rustle of autumn. Her hair, wild and untamed, caught the light as she twirled, arms stretched wide to embrace the season’s splendour.

  Rio paused, watching her with a tenderness she rarely allowed herself to feel. Then, with a wave of her hand, she conjured a flurry of azaleas. The blossoms swirled in the air, their vibrant pinks and whites a striking contrast against the amber leaves.

  Agatha stopped mid-spin, gasping as the flowers settled around her. “Rio!” she exclaimed, clutching one of the blooms to her chest.

  Rio smirked, stepping closer. “You looked like you needed something to match your joy.”

  Agatha’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, though her smile remained teasing. “You’re such a show-off.”

  Rio shrugged, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Only for you.”

  As the day faded into twilight, they walked back to the cottage, their hands once again entwined. The fields whispered their goodbyes to the sun, but within their small corner of the world, warmth lingered. Together, they savoured the fleeting, beautiful moments—each one a testament to the life they had built.
 
  
    ~1742~
  

  The frost-laden woods echoed with muffled sounds of life—the distant rustle of animals and the soft crunch of snow beneath hurried footsteps. Agatha and Rio followed a woman silently, their breath curling in the frigid air. Tonight’s hunt was a single witch, powerful and arrogant, who had ventured too far into their territory.

  “She doesn’t even know she’s being followed,” Rio whispered, her voice laced with amusement as she trailed beside Agatha. “It’s almost disappointing. I thought witches were supposed to be clever.”

  Agatha smirked, her pace steady and unhurried. “Oh, she’ll realise soon enough. But where’s the fun if they’re too prepared?” Her tone carried a hint of anticipation, her eyes gleaming like shards of ice.

  When they cornered the witch at the edge of a frozen creek, Agatha stepped forward, her presence radiating command. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” she called out, her voice a silken threat. “Throwing spells into the wind like no one’s watching. You should know—power like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

  The witch turned, her hands sparking with defensive energy. “Stay back,” she snarled, her eyes darting between Agatha and Rio. “I don’t want trouble.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Agatha said with a mocking laugh, stepping closer. “Trouble isn’t what I’m here for. I’m here for 
  
    you
  
  .”

  The battle was brief—predictably so. Agatha’s precision, honed over years of hunting, dismantled the witch’s defences with graceful ease. Every strike and counterstrike was a game to her, a dance she led with ruthless glee. Rio stood back, leaning against a frost-covered tree, watching with a smirk as Agatha toyed with the desperate woman.

  When the witch fell to her knees, trembling and defeated, Agatha crouched in front of her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with mock tenderness. “You have so much potential,” she murmured. “It’s almost a shame you won’t live to see what I’ll do with it.”

  The witch screamed as Agatha began to drain her power, the energy surging through her like fire. She tilted her head back, a sharp exhale escaping her lips, as if savouring the taste of it. The witch’s body collapsed moments later, empty and lifeless, her energy now a part of Agatha’s growing arsenal.

  “You didn’t need to drag it out so much,” Rio teased, sauntering over to join her. “But I have to admit, you do have a flair for the dramatic.”

  Agatha stood, brushing snow from her coat, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. “Where’s the fun in a quick death?” she replied, her voice light and teasing, though her eyes gleamed with the thrill of victory. “Besides, she had more power than I thought. We should find a few more like her.”

  Rio’s smirk widened as she linked her arm with Agatha’s. “Deal. You get your power, and I get my bodies.”
 
  
    ~1745~
  

  The evening was calm, the soft crackle of the hearth fire the only sound as they sat together. Agatha was nestled against Rio’s side, her embroidery forgotten on her lap as she traced absent patterns on Rio’s arm with her fingertips. Outside, the world was quiet, the stars bright against the endless darkness of the sky.

  Rio’s gaze was distant, fixed on the flickering flames, her mind wandering somewhere far from the cottage. She was quiet, too quiet, and Agatha tilted her head to look at her.

  “What is it?” she asked softly, her voice breaking the stillness like a ripple in a pond.

  For a long moment, Rio didn’t answer. But then she sighed, her shoulders rising and falling as if letting go of some unseen weight. “I never understood time the way you do,” she began, her voice low and contemplative. “It always felt... irrelevant. Endless. A concept for mortals to cling to while I moved outside of it. But now...” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “Now, I count the days. Every moment I spend with you feels like something I need to keep, something precious. And it terrifies me.”

  Agatha shifted, sitting up so she could look Rio fully in the face. Her own expression was tender, her eyes shining with something between pride and affection. She took Rio’s hand, turning it palm up, and pressed a soft kiss to the centre.

  “Then don’t waste a single one,” she said simply, her lips curving into a gentle smile.

  Rio’s eyes softened as she looked at Agatha, her usual guardedness slipping away to reveal the vulnerability she rarely let herself show. She reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Agatha’s ear, her fingers lingering for a moment.

  “With you, I couldn’t, even if I tried,” Rio murmured.

  They sat together in the firelight, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. For Rio, time had finally become something tangible, something she wanted to hold on to—not for herself, but for the woman who had taught her its meaning.
 
  
    ~1748~
  

  In the dark of night, Agatha and Rio stumbled upon a travelling carnival, its tent full of people who seemed to glow with untapped magic. There was something unsettling about the place, and Agatha’s curiosity was piqued. She had always enjoyed the thrill of the hunt in unfamiliar territory.

  The pair made their way through the carnival, each witch they encountered falling prey to Agatha’s charm and cunning. The hypnotic rhythm of the carnival music played in the background, but it was nothing compared to the exhilaration of absorbing power. Rio’s laughter echoed in the night as she conjured illusions, distracting the witches as Agatha drained them, their energy swirling into her with intoxicating force.

  “We’re going to have to start charging for this show,” Agatha teased, her lips stained with the power she had stolen. Rio merely smirked, watching the wreckage unfold before them.

  “This is the best kind of performance,” Rio replied, her voice a low hum as she enveloped them both in a haze of shadows.
 
  
    ~1749~
  

  The cottage was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the old clock on the mantle, its soft sound blending with the faint whisper of wind outside. The hearth had burnt low, the embers casting a dim, warm glow that bathed the room in amber light. Rio lay on her back, her dark hair spilling over the pillow like ink, while Agatha was curled against her side, her head resting on Rio’s chest. The steady rise and fall of Rio’s breathing beneath her was soothing, a constant anchor in a world that was ever-changing.

  Agatha’s fingers traced absent circles on Rio’s arm, her touch feather-light and thoughtless, as if her hand moved of its own accord. The moment felt suspended in time, the weight of years both heavy and inconsequential.

  “You know,” Agatha murmured, her voice thick with the haze of sleep, “sometimes it feels like this could last forever.”

  Rio’s lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, though her focus was entirely on the warmth pressed against her side. “Perhaps it already does,” she replied softly.

  Agatha shifted slightly, lifting her head to look at Rio, her eyes heavy but shining with affection. “My love,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Rio turned her head, meeting Agatha’s gaze, and something deep and unspoken passed between them. She reached up, brushing her knuckles softly along Agatha’s cheek before answering in a voice that trembled with quiet reverence, “My life.”

  Agatha settled back against her, her breath slowing as she drifted into sleep. Rio remained awake a little longer, holding her close, her mind tracing over the years they had spent together—their laughter, their arguments, their moments of discovery, and quiet contentment.

  As the clock ticked on and the fire faded completely, the peace between them felt infinite, a sanctuary untouched by the inevitability of time. Whatever lay ahead, Rio knew this moment was eternal.

  
  

    
      
        
        
          we're getting close to mothers' divorce <3'
User: When was this part posted last? 
User: When was this part posted last? 
Assistant: