The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Being alone after a startling revelation makes me feel oddly unsettled. Not only did I just meet my other parent, if what Susan said was true . . . but I have two mommies. I have two whole entirely separate mothers and there was no gene splicing, after birth experiments, random electric storm, fork in a socket to explain me or my powers . . .

I inherited them from Lida.

She doesn’t use sparks though, like I used to . . . or maybe she just can use them in many different ways and a highly visible bright silver star just isn’t the most efficient means of using them. Maybe she just doesn’t use them when trying to stop her daughter from trying to force herself onto her other mother . . .

There are some people who never have to have thoughts like that. I envy them so very, very much.

What happened was Mind Bore’s fault. I won’t blame myself for it consciously—I’m sure my subconscious will be doing that well enough for me.. If it happens again I will still fight it, and likely still be just as ashamed that I can’t win if I fail . . .

But Mind Bore had months to worm her way into my head and leave behind whatever she wanted. I don’t think she ever planned on me getting away form her so she wasn’t extra careful to make sure everything was perfect, but she seems to have done a really good job . . .

She had a lot of practice. At least now she’s in jail, where she belongs, and I’m free. Not that I belong free, but . .. it’s what I was ordered to do. A small part of me still tingles with the programming that bitch gave me, but it isn’t strong enough that I couldn’t give myself up to a woman with a mind gun if I wanted to.

There are other things than just Mind Bore out there doing this to people though. Now, a lot of them The Lady found must be out free, rampaging . . . I can only imagine what Dust is up to.

And I can’t help but miss Pink even more.

None of that matters right now though. Well, some of it does. Lida does. If she’s really the “father” mother avoided talking about all of these years . . . then not only do I deserve answers, but then . . . I have a complete family now. This also would explain why no one else in the family reunions Susan sometimes took me to would even shed a candle’s light on my father’s identity. Either they didn’t know, or Susan swore them to secrecy . . .

None of them would believe it anyway. Lesbians who naturally had a little baby girl who grew up to be a super powered freak . . . I can see people believing about half of that.

Lida could have messed with my family’s minds to obscure her presence. If I’m her daughter, and she has those silver eyes, she must have at least some of the power I used to have. It wouldn’t be hard to make a whole family forget someone that wasn’t around. No one would find it suspicious enough to call in someone who would search through their mind, and once they find out, someone might just ask to have those memories hidden away again afterwards.

As it is, I have no reason to believe Lida has tampered with Susan’s mind. If she did, it hasn’t been hazardous. Mom has lead a very happy life from what I can tell, and never participated in blood letting rituals or demon resurrection ceremonies . . .

At least, not that I know of. Lida is a witch, and I’ve seen what witches are capable of. I’ve felt it . . . If she’s anything at all like Yanta or her even worse sister I’ll wring her neck myself.

The world isn’t black and white though, she can be a good witch. Glenda was supposedly a good witch, even if I can’t help but find her a horrible bitch in multiple ways. One can’t help but wonder what exactly that hourglass was going to do to poor Dorothy anyway. Was it going to kill her, or was that red sand going to turn her into a helpless witch thrall ready to obey the wicked witch’s every whim?

Suddenly, I have an uncontrollable urge to watch that movie over again on a late night all alone dressed up as Dorothy.

Without the panties, of course.

Still, my mothers are expecting me to get out of bed, throw on some clothing, and tell them that either I hate them and I’m running off to join the witch killers and their sympathizers union, or, that I accept and love them both but just want a mess of answers for the questions I’ve had all my life.

I’m a good person, really, so guess which one they’re going to hear.

With a sigh I stumble over to my old closet and pull it open. I took all of my clothes with me when I left, but in anticipation of this or really odd luck, the closet is full of clothes. I grab a silvery bathrobe and slide it on, tying it around me and blushing when I look down. I really don’t see how those female ninjas can run around wearing clothes that look like even less than this!

On the way out of the room I slide my feet into conveniently placed matching silvery slippers, and walk out to the front room. The layout is such so when I walk in, I get a shot of my mothers holding each other worriedly tight on the sofa before they hear or see me coming.

I have to admit they make an adorable couple. Mom’s blonde hair looks so sweet wisping with Lida’s raven black locks. Well, my mother Susan’s blonde hair does. They’re both my mom, but . . .

Sighing, I step out in front of them and half wave wearily. They both just stare at me, worried, hopeful, but definitely not seeming to know what to say. We’re about even, except that I know more or less what I have to say next, and they have no clue, unless they know me a lot better than their fear acts like they do.

“So . . . Apparently I have two mommies, and apparently one of them ran away when I was veeeery small . . .” To emphasize the point, I hold hand in front of me lower than hip level but not enough that I have to lean over and expose myself more than I already have lately.

“Apparently one of my mommies is a witch, a lot like the ones that toyed with my head in Midas City. That probably makes me one. I’m perfectly willing to take her . . . you . . . Lida into my heart, and even call you mom . . . but I need to understand just what the hell is going on here. I can understand keeping things from a little girl. I can just see cute little me, just newly with the silver hair I used to have, running around happily and telling everyone that I have two mommies and I’m not adopted or any sort of artificial insemination or . . .”

Lida sighs and slowly pulls her arm out from around Susan before standing up. “Lucia, my dear daughter, please try to calm yourself. I apologize so very much for not being there for you and Susan, for all of the choices I’ve had to make . . . But I will explain myself. But I can’t do it all at once, and your mother found your heart pills. You should take them.”

I want to open up my mouth to complain about them going through my bags . . . but if your daughter tries to fuck you and she’s obviously not acting like herself, even if she’s admitted her head was toyed with . . . you’re allowed to go through her bags. “Lida . . . why do you keep calling me Lucia? Tell me that, and I’ll take my pills.”

“If that’s all I have to do . . . Beloved, fetch us a glass of water please?” Lida smiles warmly and gives Susan a hug before she goes to, I assume, get some water.

“You see . . . my little Lucia . . . our family line is very ancient. There are many traditions that come with that . . . They’re far too long to go through now, and I won’t to throw them all atop you now and make you loathe the LaSilvas name . . . but what names a LaSilvas has follow certain traditions. Susan had her reasons for wanting us to break the mold, as did I . . . So I settled for Lucia as your middle name, but I have called you Lucia in my heart since you were conceived . . .” Lida smiles and sighs weakly, staring into my eyes. The shades sit over on the coffee table, and her silver eyes ever so faintly glow in the well lit room.

The LaSilvas family line is ancient? How ancient . . .? Just what are all of those traditions . . .? It’s still too new, and too much. We can go on and on about inheritance, titles, and holdings later. Goddess, I feel like a damned Lady or something. Still don’t feel comparable to TheLady, but . . .

“So I see. All right, I’ll live for another week . . . Now, you have a lot of explaining to do. I haven’t had a . . .brunette mother for almost twenty five years of my life. You’re a witch. I have had way too many dealings with witches . . .”

A very loud, tattle tale part of my brain, starts to scream that another of me might just still be having troubles with a particular chakra sealing bitch. That dream might be a true message, a hope, or worse . . . Yanuka might be toying with me in my dreams. Yet . . . If Yanuka was using my bond with The Domina to communicate in my dreams, and Yanuka wasn’t in that dream . . .

Being an amateur paranormal scientist can be very exhausted sometimes. Really, just trying to figure out my own life on the spot is something I don’t get enough credit for. I bet if anyone is watching my life, all they notice is all of the times I get mind fucked. There’s a lot more to my life. Really.

I like to think so, anyway.

“Good! You’re not allowed to die until you have a daughter, understood?” Lida laughs in a warm way, and then sighs in a beyond apologetic sort of way. She looks so sad, so miserable inside. I hope that why ever she stayed away, it really was a good reason. I want to be able to love both of my mothers and not have to feel like I was an unwanted child.

If I wasn’t good enough for her, she wouldn’t be insisting I need to have a kid. I’m at least worthy enough to continue the LaSilvas legacy—in Lida’s eyes anyway.

Susan comes back into the room with a hopeful smile. In one hand, is a large glass of water. In the other, the lovely little pills I need to take to keep my bum ticker tick-tock-ticking away. But not ticking away too much—then I’d need to catch it.

Smiling I hold out my hand for both, and down the pills with a swig of water as quick as I can. The taste hits my tongue for just a moment and I almost gag and spit out a mouth full of water. Luckily, I’m not a cartoon so I manage to keep it all securely in my mouth and then right down my throat where it belongs.

Lida and Susan—my mothers—share a look between each other. They share some unspoken bond, and I can feel it just by looking at them. Every part of their bodies arches towards the other. Perfectly straight lines would be so easy to draw from Susan’s to Lida’s eyes. It would be an upward angle, but it would still be straight, and one of the most love filled lines ever to exist. Their smiles are so warm, so delicate, and so tender. Even knowing they’re my parents, I still envy them both. Maybe children are supposed to envy their parents when they’re in love. I’m not sure.

But I am sure that no matter whatever happened—they really are in love. They’re communicating so very much just in their silence. If I can find someone to make me feel half as special as Lida must make Susan feel, I’d be so lucky . . . I hope that even without my powers I still have whatever magic let mom and mom have a grand daughter of their own . . .

“Wonderful . . . So, sit! We all need to sit, and discuss. There’s so much to explain, so much to soothe and all of it so perfectly valid. Well, not discuss. Some of these things are so much better to show . . .” Lida smiles and takes a seat on the sofa and I sit back on the chair. It squishes just a little under me and I wince, but it’s better than admitting why it’s squishy and changing where I’m sitting.

“All right . .. So . . . Exposition time. Really long drawn out explanation for why you weren’t in my life, who you are, and why I should love you with all of my heart and realize you’ve been protecting me my whole life from all of the ills and evils that have plagued me so I should be thankful that even if I’ve been raped, mind raped, striped bare of powers, been taken advantage of and got cheated on my rent that you saved me from a lot worse.”

My mothers stare at me. Lida’s look is something of a grin, and Susan’s is more of a frown. “Sarah, behave . . . This isn’t a book you know. Life isn’t some story from a book or a comic book or . .. Come over her, don’t hide away over on that chair. Sit between your mothers, put your glass down, and let Lida explain. She does it so much better than I can.”

The two scoot so there’s room for me in between them, and I wearily sigh. “All right, I’ll try to remember that this isn’t a book. But if there are any falling buildings in our family hist—”

“Sarah!” Susan glares daggers at me, while Lida simply laughs, shaking her head as if it was the funniest thing that she had ever heard.

I think I’m starting to see which of my moms is the cool one.

Lida sighs as I sit and motions to the table. “Put down your glass, if you would please my sweet little Lucia.” She smiles as I set the glass down, and her eyes glitter with absolute delight. She was thinking this was going to go horribly. I can only imagine. They were probably planning on telling me everything when I was twenty three or so. Back then I was freezing Susan out, and obeying The Lady.

It would have been nice to have had more of an edge up on Yanta, but if I hadn’t always been only using half of the skills at my disposal I could have done so much better. I was acting like a member of the Super Friends, conveniently forgetting what I could do to further the plot . . .

Susan has a point, I treat life way too much like a book. If I didn’t make mine turn into one, I would probably stop that habit. For now, however . . .

My new mother’s hand raises up, and she rests the tip of her pointer finger on the rim of my glass as she lets her hand slowly glide down. Tenderly, slowly, methodically, like tracing her skin over the flesh of a lover, she caresses around that rim. On the first pass, it’s nothing special, but on the second, a very small silver glow begins to emanate from her finger, and on the second, it grows brighter.

I want to ask so many questions, but something about the way her lips are moving and only the faintest bits of words I’ve never heard before makes me think that this is far too delicate for me to interrupt. On about the seventh or ninth pass around the rim, she pulls her finger back and flicks her finger towards the water as if shaking off a stray drop. Only, instead of a stray drop, a small, baby of a spark falls down into the water.

At first, nothing happens. The sparkle sizzles and hisses at introduction to water, something I never noticed mine doing before so this must be special. Then the spark simple faintly flashes, and the water takes on a faint glow to it.

And then . . . nothing.

Sitting, waiting, I just watch the glass of water.

“Please, dear one . . . Drink. It won’t be like tasting a . . . what did Susan say you called them . . . a ‘spark.’ It will be a wholly different experience. This is . . . The most efficient way of explaining, and leaves no room for me to cheat you from the truth.” Lida reaches down and holds up the glass with a finally relieved smile. It isn’t just hopeful any more. “Drink.”

Words, my words anyway, feel far too simple next to the way Lida talks. So, I don’t speak. I nod, and take the glass from her. Slowly, carefully, I tip it back and finish every last drop.

Not a moment goes by where I can’t feel it. It isn’t like a spark at all, it’s so much more, so very, very much more . . . A surge of energy, a rush of feeling . . .

The water swishes inside of me, and I become the water.

I’m standing in front of a mirror, staring at myself in the mirror. My hair is a lot shorter, exquisitely styled in an almost archaic way, but definitely pretty. My eyes shine silver in the mirror, and I slide back on my sunglasses. I’m in a hospital, and this is no place for people to realize just who Lida LaSilvas is.

Susan is going to give birth in about an hour, so just incase that lovely bit of magic that gave us a child in the first place has any complications on a woman without any magic in her blood I thought it was safest if we were early to the hospital.

The last thing I want is for my daughter to be the reason her mother dies. This really was irresponsible of me. It’s bad enough that I fell in love with Susan—and I love her dearly, but I shouldn’t have given myself the opportunity. She’s not safe even knowing me. Not with who I am, what I do, and what I need to do before my time here is done . . . By Athena, I just hope that I can be a thousand times better to little Lucia than I have been to anyone else in my life.

The mirror is of course, for a small private hospital bathroom. I “convinced” a doctor to give me their key. Sure, she might have enjoyed it, but I don’t think Susan would consider giving a doctor a taste of my talent cheating. I needed a room to be alone in.

Well, I needed to take a piss, but there was more.

With a sigh I adjust my sunglasses just a little. The silver frames almost make me disgusted with myself. I should be proud of my heritage, and the whole world should know. I’m not that bad of a woman, not anymore. Maybe doing this can make up for my past deeds, when I was just like Yacawa. How did I ever think that making a mass-market item that you can shove into someone’s head and make them helplessly obedient little slaves was a good idea?

I needed the money, that was what I’d told myself then. Oh, the fame and fun had nothing to do with it. Of course not. Having something to feel proud about had nothing to do with it. Showing that a LaSilvas was worth more than just seduction and mocking was something to.

Oh well. At least those obedience rods never caught on like I planned them to do. They were too expensive to manufacture, not enough of a demand, too many people were sure it had some nasty catch . . .

Since the first fifteen made the person who used them as obedient to me as the victim I can’t blame anyone. Not that anyone proved it . . .

Goddess blight me! I’m going to be a mother and here I am, all alone, trying to make myself feel better while my wife frets and worries her pretty self into hysterics. I love her to death, but if she ever stopped worrying about one thing or another when we weren’t having a romantic moment I’d be worried that the poor woman was comatose.

I made a woman or two comatose with too much of my silver before, so it wouldn’t be the first time . . . .

I take off my glasses only long enough to wash my face, and then head to the room my Susan is waiting for me in. She’ll have our beautiful Lucia, and then, then things will . . . Then things will be just perfect and fine for the both of us. Lucia will be my redemption. I know she’ll be the true descendent, the one with the gift, the one who will bare Her likeness . . .

On the way out of the bathroom, all at once the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I can feel my fingertips sizzle with the tiniest of sparks. Something is wrong. From the very core of me, I know something is going to happen to my unborn daughter if I don’t quicken my pace. Frowning as intimidating as I can, and then remembering here that I’m dressed in jeans and a blouse not a long flowing robe, I take a worried expression and run fast as I can.

People may fear an angry witch, but a scared woman will get more berth at a hospital than an angry woman and I can’t afford to drop my cover. If anyone finds out that I’m here, I have some outstanding debts to be collected that I’m sure my creditors would take extra pleasure in the timing of it.

By the time I get to the right hall way, I know I’m already too late to get there before the ones who want me and not Lucia or Susan. They’ll take what they can get though, especially when it comes to getting a well deserved amount of vengeance on a woman that’s the reason why their mothers will never think a coherent thought besides “obey” again. You would think that people would sense the desire to repent and just give you some space, but no . . .

Once I get to the door, I freeze and just stare through the window. On the other side, are three redheads, all crowding around Susan. The one on the left of Susan is sliding her hand over Susan’s extended stomach, and the one on the right, over her breasts. Luckily for the both of them, she’s still under the hospital sheets and dressed.

The third is standing at the foot of the bed, watching Susan’s reaction with far too much delight.

In the corner, the nurse Susan let me insist stayed in the room is stripped bare. Her full breasts are covered in a sheen of sweat and she’s moaning as she plunges her fingers into herself. Just watching that sight makes me quiver, because her wide open eyes are all whites. Not rolled back, her yes are white, and I know from that her mind is blank.

I used to use dirty tricks like that, although unlike those redheaded bitches of the Nesatealia family, I actually stopped. That doesn’t make the mindless state of the nurse any less sexy, but I have a wife . . . so that doesn’t really matter.

Of course, it’s all silent from out in the hall way, and the only reason I can even see through the window is because I know how to see through magical wards. If I didn’t need to be in that room, just walking towards the door would repulse me away so much I’d probably need to wretch afterwards. I’m supposed to be there.

I should already be inside. I’m not running away, and I’m sure they were ready for that. But it’s no matter to me what they planned for—the LaSilvas family won’t be stopped by simple planning alone.

I reach out, and shove the door open hard as I can after turning the knob. Surprisingly enough, they didn’t ward the door shut. They must have liked their odds. “Get away from my wife or you’ll wish those rods had gotten into your mothers heads before you were born!”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because none of them move. They only slowly move, and shift, until they’re facing me, each of them smirking perfectly matching intimidating smirks. Susan whimpers, and the glazed look in her eyes lets me know that the women touching her were doing far more than just enjoying a little harmless groping.

“You made it. Wow. You can do something when it’s not just for your own pride. Well, I guess it is, what do you think girls? Do we off the minds of broad and her little podling, or do we do what Yanuka suggested? She is a self satisfied little bitch, but she generally has a reason to be very satisfied with herself . . .” The redhead standing at the foot of Susan’s bed is the one who speaks, and it would be impossible to forget that face.

Yacawa.

Yacawa listening to her younger cousin Yanuka is beyond a surprise. Yanuka has always been fond of very, very long drawn out plots. In my opinion she’s too full of optimism with not enough realism. That might be bad for her, but for me, that is a very good thing.

Yonva, the redhead to Susan’s left, laughs and pauses caressing above my unborn daughter. Whatever magics she may be inflicting upon her I don’t dare imagine, but the weakening of her mental defenses would not surprise me in the least.

Nesatealia women all have one common trait—their flaming red hair. Some of them have hair that looks more like the crayon, or blood, or bricks. Others, more like the color of a newly lit match’s flames.

Like all witches, and nearly all women with any magic in them at all, they’re of course almost painfully beautiful, perfectly slender bodies with just enough of every trait to make them gorgeous. Yacawa has always had fuller lips, and fuller hips. Yonva has absolutely delicious eyes, and legs to kill for.

So of course Yacawa overdoes the mystical seeming tint of red lipstick, and a tight belt for her ceremonial robes. Yonva overdoes the eye makeup, and her skirt could be considered a belt.

The nurse cries out especially sharply and begins to move her hips faster, and her fingers are a blur. Drool slides down from her lips and cum soaks the floor under her in a small puddle she must have made for herself. The way her fingers are almost faintly growing red, I know that her masturbation must be magical, and no doubt be binding her to one of the Nesatealia.

The grin of the woman still caressing over my wife’s breast tells me it’s her doing. I don’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean anything. They’re a very big family, and I doubt that even they know all of them, immediate or extended.

The bastards and half-siblings must stretch on for miles with their sexual habits.

Yonva finally slows her touches after a squeeze, and I can feel the vibrations of her magics stopping from across the room. “You know you’re going to, ‘cawa. Just make the deal and be done with it. You know I think these ‘deals’ are pitifully annoying. Let the cattle make deals, and let the goddesses make mandates—that’s not even to mention that it’s not as much fun. We’re setting a bad example, and Yanuka will only keep dragging absolutely everyone as low as she can. Just because she’s young with a new desire to use old ideas doesn’t mean—”

“Shut up! Both of you! Get away from my wife!” I stand with my legs together, arms at my sides, and slowly begin to make myself surrounded with small bursts of the silvery energy from my veins. It surrounds me and if I didn’t have my silver eyes, I’m sure it would make me very hard to see.

“Now now now . . . we make a deal, or your wife will never think again. Your daughter will never even start.” Yacawa laughs, and gestures for the unknown witch to step to the side as she takes her place and traces a finger across Susan’s cheek.

Her blonde hair is fanned out around her, and she looks so desperately clinging to consciousness. For just a slight moment Yacawa’s finger pulses with what only can be described as a small flame, and Susan’s eyes melt shut. Whatever she just did, Susan isn’t awake anymore. They probably melted her under, and were going to take her and Lucia away, hide them somewhere . . .

It’s so hard not to scream and lose my cool, especially with the nurse whimpering a name I can barely understand. All I can understand, is that there’s a Y in there. The whole situation is the exact thing I never wanted to be involved in again. No more mind melting. No more enslavement . . .

At least not so cruelly, so cold, so devoid of love or feeling!

Normally, I would just fire off the energy and do my best to save my wife, but . . . This isn’t just any coven. This isn’t any of the smaller ones whose power is so insignificant they have to slump so low as to selling their talents for human advertisements.

These are three representatives from the coven absolutely no one wants to piss off. These women only haven’t turned the whole witch society against me because then someone else might torment me for them, and if there’s anything that these bitches enjoy watching, its torment they themselves have caused.

Sadists enjoy torture far too much to give the killing blow, but a sadist backed into a corner is still very good with a knife . . .

Every bone in my body tells me this is a bad idea. I need to do what I can do, but . . . If I fail . . . Lucia never gets to make any choices for herself, never gets to . . .

With a pitiful sigh, I slump, and all of the energy melts back into me. “Fine . . . What are your terms . . . I . . . Won’t let you hurt my family.”

The well hipped witch smirks and shares a conspiring kiss with the mystery woman before turning to face me. “No, there will be no hurting of your family, no melting of their precious minds, at least no more than has already come to them . . . And if you think you can protect your daughter from our way of life, you are more deluded than I feared . . . But no, their minds are safe from us . . .”

She stops, and stares at the nurse who can’t stop screaming. After scowling, Yacawa flicks her wrist in her direction, and the poor woman falls onto her back with a loud cry, cumming out the rest of her brain, and cumming herself to sleep.

“As for you . . . You, will stay in seclusion in that family shrine of yours. You will stay within its lower confines, using no magic to see the outside world, only feeling your empathic link with your daughter . . . and if you truly love her, your wife. You will stay there, and so you will remain . . . as long as my mind can form coherent thought. You will be allowed to leave a brief message with your wife, and if you try to see them again before my mind ceases to function, their own thought processes —”

“Are of course forfeit . . .”

“We understand each other . . .” Yacawa laughs, and the three slowly step away from my wife, but not slowly enough. “Kiss her. Let her mind savor that last memory . . . and then, we will escort you to your new home, where I expect you to stay for a very, very, very long time . . .”

All I want to do is kill them, all three, fry their brains and have them writhing at my feet, but . . . I can’t do that, I just can’t. I can’t risk my family. No doubt someone is watching us in a scrying pool somewhere off in the distance . . . If I kill her before we seal the deal, then I’m sure Yonva and her sister that I can’t recognize could distract me long enough for someone to hurt my family, to . . .

“Fine . . .” Focusing all of my regrets, all of my apologies, all of my wishes for her and my daughter . . . I move forward and kiss Susan’s lips as tenderly and gently as I can after the short walk to stand beside her.

As soon as the transfer is complete, the two younger brats grab a hold of my arms and start to tear me away. “Come . . . time to go home . . .”

“No! I need to see my daughter born, I need to . . . plea . . .” Realizing how hopeless, and stupid this all is, every small bit . . . I go limp, and let myself be dragged off. I failed Lucia. I failed Susan. Every day, as much as I can, I will dedicate my life to watching them, finding a way to finish off Yacawa . . .

At least fry her mind, and give her as a gift to her cousin . . .

“That’s a good little LaSilvas . . . A shame we can’t make a stop at the fun room, Yanta has been wanting to show it off, and she’s very fond of your pretty little toys . . .” Even after the head of their family was victimized with one of those rods, they still use them, mostly just that young bitch Yanta, but they all use them, I know, I’ve paid attention to where every last one went . . .

“I’m sorry, Lucia . . . I’m so very, very sorry . . .”

The water drains out of me through my tears as I try to stop sobbing, screaming. I can feel the torment that Lida was feeling, and yet the utter horrid shock, the knowing that she deserved this, that it was all her fault, but that she . . . that she didn’t want me to suffer through it, or mom, or . . .

They both wrap their arms around me, and my tears continue to flow as I melt into the dual embrace. “I . . . Mommy I . . . You couldn’t even be there to . . . but you . . . Promised you’d find ways to protect us, to keep us safe, to . . . just little things, here and there, to . . . not enough that they’d need to torment us more than life already would and . . . oh Lida . . .”

She is my mother, I can feel it, I know it . . . I felt the pain of losing me to those stupid witches and their stupid deal . . . I . . . I know the horror she felt knowing that those rods were being used by Yanta, and I can imagine how she would feel knowing one of those rods was used on me . . .

“Shhh, shhh Sarah . . . It’ll . . . It’ll all be okay . . . Lida is free now, she can be your mother now . . .” Susan strokes my hair, but all I can do in response is sniffle.

I have no clue how Yacawa was stopped, but I knew that she was, she must have been, or Lida would not be here right now. I know what mother, what Lida, would have done to Yacawa without even asking. She knew she would have done it right there in that hospital room. She would have used Yacawa’s own mother to melt her mind down into goo, and then turned her into a husk to be put on display outside of a witch’s equivalent of a sleazy brothel.

And she would have made sure every last member of their family knew it . . . but whatever it was, it must have been recent so any backlash would be fresh . . .

And yet not. This family, the . . . Nesatealias, they love to plot. It will be awhile before we hear from them again.

“I . . .”

“Shhh, Lucia . . . Words can be later . . . for now just . . .”

“Thank you, mommy . . . I . . . I know how hard making a deal like that can be . . .” It’s the only words I can manage to choke out . . . and then everything else I try just turns into sobs . . .

“I know . . . I felt it and . . . Lucia . . . I’m sorry . . . “

The fact that I can believe her makes me the happiest girl in the world. I’ve finally met my other mother, I finally know why I grew up half an orphan and how I inherited the powers I’ve lost . . . I know I can’t give up hope. I know I can’t give up that legacy of sacrifice . . .

No one should have to make those choices . . . when I was Silver Girl, I could do my best to stop people from having to make the bad, stupid decisions, I could try to do my part to make the world a better, safer place for everyone. Knowing that if there had been Silver Girl around to save the day that wouldn’t have happened to my mother . . .

But of all of the things I want to go back to . . . being Silver Girl is one memory I have no way of reliving, even if it remains so dear to my heart.