Lilith
Thornhill Dungeon
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 12th 6414
4:19 pm
Their exploration of the artificial Thornhill area within the Dungeon stretched on for more than an hour, as they moved from one weapons store to the next. Ben pointed out several shops where they could sell the Mana cores harvested from the Mana beasts they had defeated. The proceeds went towards upgrading their equipment, allowing them to purchase more durable armor, refined battle suits, and improved weaponry. I, however, chose not to part with any of my cores. I had my own plans for them and instead stored them safely within my space ring.
Once we had finished our shopping and sightseeing, we ended up at a well-known, medium-sized diner boasting a spacious patio. The diner had a warm, inviting atmosphere. Floating crystals illuminated the interior with a soft, ambient glow, while the patio nestled under the branches of a sprawling tree provided welcome shade from the unrelenting sun. Even though the light outside came from a spelltech dome that mimicked the sun, the sun within the Dungeon was different—believed to be a naturally formed celestial body, it maintained the ecosystem within the Dungeon's confines. This natural sun posed a unique challenge for vampires, as many were notably weaker in its presence. Younger vampires often donned specialized protective armor to shield themselves from its potentially lethal rays. Only older vampires, those with a robust soul foundation, could resist the sun's effects—though even they were not as strong as they were at night.
Ella, however, stood apart from these limitations. While Ben and Neil likely assumed her armor provided adequate protection, the truth was that Ella, as a member of the Ashtarmel House, was unlike other vampires. Her bloodline granted her the rare and coveted Day Walker physique. This unique trait rendered her immune to the sun's effects, a reflection of how extraordinary her lineage was. I glanced at Ella as she ate her sauce-mixed rice, her face alight with a genuine smile. It was the first time in two years I had seen her smile so sincerely, and I felt a deep sense of satisfaction watching her find a moment of happiness.
I took a sip of the ginger wine and leaned back in my chair, listening as Ben and Neil discussed our next move once night fell. Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the far side of the patio. I felt a familiar presence before I saw the source. Turning my head, I met a pair of piercing green eyes.
"Jennifer McClough," Neil whispered, his voice barely audible. "What's she doing here on the first floor?"
I could guess why she was here as she began striding toward our table, her usual entourage trailing closely behind. The groupies fell into line, their postures deferential, their gazes eager to please.
Jennifer's sharp green eyes settled on me as she stopped at our table. Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "So, this is where you've been hiding, Lith. I thought I'd find you out there—hunting, fighting, making a name for yourself. Not... lounging here."
I met her gaze evenly, leaning back in my chair. "Why would you think that?" I asked flatly. "You don't know me."
She tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "I just assumed. As a fellow Warrior, I figured you'd be chasing the thrill—taking on challenges rather than sitting around. But I have to wonder..." Her eyes flicked briefly to Neil and Ben before returning to me, her attention unwavering. "Why waste your time with these people? An upper-tier raider like you should be exploring floors beyond this knockoff of a town."
I shrugged, deliberately casual. "Sorry, but I'm not interested in the Dungeon's treasures or exploring its depths." My voice was calm, unshaken. "I'm here for something—someone—else." Ella's image flitted across my mind, and I felt my resolve solidify.
Jennifer's entourage bristled at my dismissal. One of them, a younger man with a sneer, couldn't hold back. "Lady Jen, why bother with this outsider—"
"Silence," Jennifer commanded, her voice as cold as frostbite. The air around us seemed to drop a few degrees. A subtle, crushing pressure radiated from her, rooting her groupies to the spot. Her smile remained, deceptively angelic, though her presence suggested something far more dangerous.
Her gaze locked on mine. "If you have no interest in treasure, why hold on to an enchanted tool of that grade?" Her hand hovered near the rapier at her side. "A sacred-level weapon, I'd wager."
I rested a hand on my own blade, my fingers brushing the hilt. "Do you want it?" My tone was flat, but my words carried weight. "You'd have to take it from my corpse."
The tension at the table grew heavier. The icy edge in the air prickled against my skin. Jennifer's smile turned razor-sharp, her cold beauty undiminished, yet somehow more intimidating. "Then let's settle it on the battleground," she said. The dangerous gleam in her eyes only enhanced her beauty.
****
Everyone had gathered at the arena located in the town's entertainment district. It was an impressive structure—a massive circular amphitheater with its edges elegantly curving upward, constructed from a dark, glossy material that gleamed faintly in the sunlight. The arena's combat platforms, raised and evenly spaced, were designed for duelists to fight to their heart's content. While official events drew cheering crowds, the empty stands today hinted at a rare lull, leaving the space open to anyone seeking an unmonitored challenge. I hadn't known the real Thornhill had a place like this. I hadn't yet explored the town in full, but discovering such a venue pleased me; I could already see myself returning here to release tension, blow off steam, and maybe even hone my skills.
Now, I stood on one of the central platforms facing Jennifer McClough. Behind me, outside the shimmering yellow barrier that shielded spectators from any stray attacks, Ella, Ben, and Neil looked on. Jennifer's groupies stood behind her in tense silence. From the corner of my eye, I caught the faint tremor in Neil's posture, the quickness of his breath. He was nervous, understandably so. Facing the strongest human in the city wasn't exactly something one did lightly. But I felt a strange pull to challenge her. Maybe it was pride, or perhaps just a need to measure myself against someone of her caliber. I could have refused her challenge—there was nothing to prove to a group of strangers—but I didn't. Part of me craved the thrill of testing my strength against hers, and a small, quiet voice whispered that I might even take that title from her.
Despite my lack of cultivation, I knew my physical prowess rivaled that of a Master Realm cultivator. Years of grueling battles and life-or-death fights had forged my combat skills into something formidable. I did not doubt that I could handle most Master Realm body cultivators, and if Jennifer pulled something unexpected, I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
Jennifer drew her weapon: a sleek, slender rapier with an impossibly sharp double-edged blade that gleamed like ice in the arena's light. The moment it left its sheath, I felt a distinct drop in temperature. A faint mist spilled from her, coiling around her frame like a cold fog. It was clear she possessed an Ability Factor—one of those rare, genetically imprinted abilities that sometimes surfaced during the initial stages of body cultivation. These abilities were as varied as they were powerful, often tied to one's innate talent or an inherited family trait. But in Jennifer's case, I doubted her strength came from a famous bloodline. The name McClough didn't carry the weight of a well-known clan. No, her power was her own, born of skill, effort, and raw talent.
"Are you not going to use your Battle Art?" I asked with a sly grin, recalling that human who arrogantly refused to unleash his technique against me.
Jennifer's eyes narrowed. "Are you crazy? Of course I'm going to use it. I take my challenges seriously, you know."
With that, she slid into her fencing stance—front foot forward, back foot firmly planted, knees slightly bent. It was a stance built for precision and speed, every movement calculated to launch her into action with explosive force. Her rapier arm extended ahead, poised and ready, while her off-hand stayed behind her, perfectly balanced. There was an elegance in her form, an economy of motion that made it hard to spot any opening. I adjusted my stance as well, bracing myself for the clash that was about to come.
"Ready! Set! Go!" the referee shouted.
We began circling each other, neither of us rushing in. The air between us was tense, charged with the promise of a decisive first strike. My pulse quickened with anticipation as I wondered who would make the opening move. Then, like a coiled spring released, we lunged at the same time.
Jennifer's blade darted toward me in a precise thrust, the rapier's reach forcing me to react quickly. I twisted out of the way, narrowly avoiding the point, only for her to launch another thrust almost immediately. I dodged again, then a third strike came in even faster. Her movements were fluid and relentless, and so our dance began—her blade cutting through the air with surgical precision, while I was forced to weave and step, playing defense.
I tried to break the rhythm, feinting an opening to shift onto the offensive, but she was always a step ahead. No matter what I tried, Jennifer kept me reacting, kept me on my toes. Her technique was impeccable, her guard tight. I couldn't help but admire her skill. Every maneuver she made shut down my options to counterattack, making it clear just how much she had honed her craft.
But I couldn't stay defensive forever. As we traded blows and shifted positions, I felt an opening—brief, but enough. I drew my arm back, muscles coiling like a spring, and then unleashed a punch that sent a concussive wave through the air.
"Breaking Dawn!" I called out.
The shockwave tore through the space between us, the sheer force of it driving Jennifer backward. She hit a wall of ice that materialized just in time to catch her, the frozen barrier absorbing much of the impact. I frowned. She had diffused my attack before it could do significant damage. If I wanted to win, I'd have to either incapacitate her, force her to yield, or knock her off the platform entirely.
Jennifer steadied herself, then stepped forward again, a smile playing on her lips. "What was that?" she asked. "There was no Mana in it—just raw physical power."
"That's because there was none," I replied, enjoying the way her entourage looked shocked and incredulous. Their disbelief was always amusing. "I'm not a cultivator."
Jennifer's expression didn't change. Instead of surprise, her gaze held something unexpected: admiration. "I figured as much," she said. "I sensed no spirit energy in you, and your soul core is blank. You're rankless."
"Then why challenge a non-cultivator?" I asked.
"Because I knew you were a monster," Jennifer said, a faint, whitish-blue light beginning to shimmer around her. The glow wasn't intense—just a thin aura that enveloped her form—but it was enough to signal she wasn't holding back. "Tell me," she continued, "if you're not using spells or Battle Techniques, why give your attack a name?"
I blinked at her question. Breaking Dawn was a technique I'd refined over years of fighting, a finishing move I relied on when I wanted to end things quickly. Naming it felt natural, like a small rebellion against the traditionalists who believed only cultivators deserved to title their techniques. I'd always envied how cultivators named their signature moves, and in my way, I'd claimed that right for myself.
"Are we going to keep talking, or are we going to fight?" I said, my patience wearing thin.
Jennifer simply smiled, her rapier glinting as it was enveloped in that whitish-blue aura. She returned to her stance and pointed her blade directly at me, her confidence unwavering. Then, with deliberate precision, she drove the rapier's tip into the floor. A glowing white circle sprang up around her. She repeated the motion three more times, each strike generating radiant particles of light that floated upwards like shimmering snowflakes. With an almost casual elegance, she once again aimed her weapon at me.
"[Frost Calamity: First Wave—Gale Ripple!]" she declared.
A fierce burst of icy energy gathered at her sword's tip before erupting outward in a massive surge of freezing air. The attack moved like a ravenous avalanche, flash-freezing everything in its path and forming jagged spears of ice that rushed at me. The sheer speed caught me off guard. I had no choice but to leap back, narrowly avoiding the frosty onslaught. Before I could regain my footing, another surge of freezing particles launched my way, forming new icy spikes that shot toward me with relentless force.
I twisted and dove through the air, evading the icy barrage. But I knew this strategy wouldn't last. If I kept retreating, the entire podium would eventually become a frozen wasteland. I had to counterattack before the encroaching frost left me with nowhere to go.
My fist tightened. With a swift movement, I released another "Breaking Dawn." The shockwave blasted apart the incoming spikes, sending a spray of ice shards scattering in all directions. For a moment, it seemed like I might be gaining the upper hand—but Jennifer was faster. As soon as the ice shattered, she summoned another wave of cold, the rate of her attacks increasing with each passing second. The spikes came faster than I could destroy them, each one sharper and more forceful than the last. I pushed myself harder, my muscles burning as I struck again and again. The arena reverberated with the sound of each impact as I poured more power into my fists, breaking the incoming spikes just before they could reach me.
Finally, I unleashed a full-force punch, using over fifty percent of my strength. The resulting blast obliterated the entire oncoming wave, sending ice shards flying in all directions. Jennifer's groupies gasped audibly, their wide eyes betraying their disbelief at the raw physical power I had just displayed. Even so, the arena's air grew frigid, each breath I took leaving a visible vapor trail. The icy chill clung to my skin and made my muscles ache as I waited for her next move.
Then I felt it—an unwelcome stiffness in my right hand. I glanced down and grimaced. The same fist that had smashed through the wave of spikes was now encased in a thin layer of ice, the frost creeping across my knuckles. The pain was sharp and biting, each tiny movement sending shards of discomfort up my arm. It seemed Jennifer's frost wasn't so easily dispelled.
"You didn't really think my ice was ordinary, did you?" Jennifer's voice carried a biting edge, as cold as the frost that surrounded her.
[Frost Calamity: Second Wave—Fang Gale Slash!]
A brilliant white arc of energy surged from her blade, speeding toward me. I twisted just in time, feeling the icy air slice past like a frozen dagger. Before I could catch my breath, another slash of frigid light rushed at me. I barely managed to leap out of its path, but the strain on my battered right arm was beginning to take its toll. It dangled at my side, numb and unresponsive. I tried to will it into motion, but it was as if it no longer belonged to me. The ice had sunk in deeply, and now even the slightest attempt to move my fingers sent sharp jolts of pain through my body.
Her attacks weren't just physical; they carried something more. Her willpower was woven into each blow, embedded in the ice itself. I could feel her presence within it, as though the frost was an extension of her very soul.
"What's wrong? Giving up already?" Jennifer taunted. Then, with a flick of her rapier, she unleashed a massive surge of ice. An avalanche of frost barreled toward me, promising to overwhelm everything in its path. My grip tightened, and I shifted into a battle stance. My right arm hung limp, useless for the moment, but I pulled my left arm back, summoning all the force I could muster.
"[Booming Dawn!]" I roared, unleashing a shockwave of compressed air. The blast tore through the oncoming ice, scattering shards in all directions. A chill rushed across the arena, sharp enough that even the spectators outside the yellow barrier shivered. Jennifer, ever calculating, had already encased herself in an ice wall for protection.
Behind the safety of her frozen barricade, I seized the opportunity to deal with the frost still gripping my arms. Summoning my hidden reserves, I activated my ability. Wisps of black mist began to coil around me, devouring the icy encasement piece by piece. The frost dissolved into nothingness as the mist absorbed its energy, first on my right arm, then on my left. As soon as the ice was gone, I pulled the black mist into a condensed sphere, then absorbed it back into my body, recharging my energy. With my arms freed, I turned my attention to Jennifer's protective wall.
With my left hand, I conjured a beam of brilliant white light and hurled it at the ice barrier. The impact created a deafening explosion, sending shards of ice and white flames cascading across the podium. The shockwave slammed into the protective barrier surrounding the arena, rattling it like a bell.
"Nice move," Jennifer said, her voice startlingly close. Before I could react, she was behind me. Her rapier came down in a diagonal slash, but I managed to twist away just in time. The blade missed me by a hair's breadth, yet the effort left me breathless. I felt heavier, slower—every step more labored than the last.
Damn it. That's why I hated using that ability. I wasn't an ordinary human—far from it. Despite not being a cultivator, I had an Ability Factor of my own. But every time I used it, my body paid the price. The strain was overwhelming. Muscles that had been so reliable a moment ago now ached with each movement. My breaths came faster, and my vision swam at the edges. On top of that, a sharp headache started to bloom, breaking my focus.
Jennifer didn't miss a beat. Her rapier blurred as she pressed her advantage, attacking harder, faster, her afterimages multiplying. The phantom slashes came at me from all directions. I ducked and dodged, but I knew I couldn't let her blade so much as graze me—her aura-infused strikes would only pull me deeper into her frost's grasp.
As her relentless assault continued, I couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration. She was good. Better than I had anticipated. It had been so long since I'd faced an opponent this skilled, one who could push me like this. Yet the exhaustion was beginning to show. My reflexes dulled with each second, and my vision blurred from the mounting pressure. It was getting harder to keep up with her pace.
And then she shifted. With a sudden, powerful swing, her rapier cut through the floor, leaving a blazing trail of white light behind it. Another diagonal slash was coming, and I had to summon every ounce of strength and focus just to react.
[Frost Calamity: Fourth Wave—White Haze!]A massive wave of white light crashed into me, the freezing air wrapping around my body like a vice. The ice solidified instantly, forming a crystalline prison that lifted me off the ground. My limbs were completely frozen, leaving only my head free. I tried to summon the purplish-black mist again, the same energy I had relied on in my previous battles, but pain ripped through my body before I could gather it. My strength was fading—not just fading, but being drawn away, siphoned by the ice. My body heat, my vitality itself, was draining into the frozen wall surrounding me. I could feel Jennifer's will within the ice, binding me, holding me in place, and sapping my energy as if it were fuel for the frost.
"My ability isn't simply freezing," Jennifer explained, her voice calm as she sheathed her sword. "It's not just about cold. I can absorb heat itself, bringing temperatures down to levels beyond subzero. It's that heat—your body heat, your energy—that strengthens the ice, making it unbreakable."
"You mean life force," I said through gritted teeth. I could feel my life ebbing away, leaking into the glacial cocoon.
"Any kind of energy will do," she replied coolly. "With my enchanted tool, I can extend my reach even further. It seems our abilities are more alike than I thought. So, do you yield?"
My stomach churned, and a sharp, sick feeling crept through me. The ice was too strong, and my strength was too drained. I clenched my teeth, my body trembling with the effort to resist, but there was nothing I could do. At last, I nodded, hating myself for it.
Jennifer placed her hand on the ice, and a wave of warmth spread outward. The frosty prison began to melt, water streaming down in rivulets as the heat returned. I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't expected her to be able to control heat so precisely. It made her ability factor eerily similar to mine: she could absorb heat and release it at will, just as I could absorb energy with my mist and release it as a burst of power.
When the ice was completely gone, I dropped back onto the ground. My legs almost gave out, but I forced myself to stay steady. I kept my chin high, refusing to show weakness, as I pulled the enchanted blade from my belt and offered it to her.
"Here," I said, holding it out.
Jennifer's expression didn't change. "What's that for?"
"I thought this was why you challenged me," I said, frowning. According to the rules, the victor could claim a reward from the loser. I had assumed she wanted the enchanted blade. After all, it wasn't as if I could make much use of it.
She looked at the sword, then back at me. "That's not what I want," she said simply. The barrier surrounding us faded, and Ella and the others rushed toward me. I could see the concern in Ella's face as she reached me first, her eyes scanning my body for injuries.
"What I want is you, Lith," Jennifer continued, her tone completely composed. I froze at her words, and so did everyone around us. Then she smiled—a small, almost mischievous smile.
Her next words hit like a thunderclap. "Go on a date with me."
_
Royal Palace
Pandemonium city,
Yorkside Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
September 29th 6407
3:46 PM
Another day of training—another day Lilith stood on the sidelines, wanting no part of it. She lingered by the bleachers, arms crossed, as she watched Ariella being put through her paces by Sanders. The red-haired vampire, ever the perfectionist, was grilling the young Princess on an advanced swordsmanship technique. It was a series of fluid, precise movements that would have challenged even a seasoned warrior. Yet here was Ariella—just nine years old—trying her hardest to master it.
Several months had passed since Ariella had shown her that book. The one that mentioned a figure bearing Lilith's name. That conversation still gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, creeping in whenever she tried to think of her family. The idea that she might have a connection to vampires had shaken her. Lilith didn't know much about her family—no, that wasn't entirely true. She didn't remember much. Her mind was a maze of blank spaces and splintered fragments, with only one constant: her father's training. It was her only tangible memory of him. But if there was truth to the idea that she might be descended from a vampire, it opened questions she didn't want to face. Why had her father trained her so intensely? Did he know what she was? Did she even know what she was? Lilith was human. At least, she believed that deep down. But the things she could do...they weren't normal.
The revelation of her father's death months ago had only deepened the void inside her. When the King broke the news, Lilith had denied it. She'd locked herself away, refusing to leave the room they'd given her, refusing to eat or speak. The only person she'd allowed near was the Princess. Ariella's presence had been the only thing that managed to penetrate her isolation. Now, despite her reluctance, Lilith forced herself to watch over the girl's training. She told herself it was to keep an eye on her, to ensure she didn't get hurt. But perhaps, somewhere deep down, she wanted to understand why Ariella's determination struck a chord with her.
There was a heavy thud. Ariella hit the ground hard, and Sanders rushed to her side. Lilith stiffened, concern flashing through her. She started down from the bleachers, but before she reached them, Ariella had already pushed herself back up. She stood with a determined set to her jaw, blowing strands of silver blonde hair from her mouth. Her small fists clenched around the wooden practice sword. She wasn't giving up. Sanders, however, was less enthusiastic.
"You don't have to master it right now," Sanders said gently, his tone patient but firm. "Take a break."
"No. I can do it," Ariella shot back, her young voice hard and unwavering. She raised the wooden sword again, attempting the technique once more, but she faltered. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips as she stumbled. Sanders darted forward, catching her before she could fall.
"You've sprained your ankle," he said. His voice carried a hint of exasperation as he lowered her to the ground.
A scoff drew his attention. He turned sharply, fixing Lilith with a displeased glare.
"You find her pain amusing, human?" Sanders asked coldly.
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "I think it's ridiculous to teach her a move that requires superhuman reflexes," she replied. The resentment in her voice was unmistakable. She still hadn't forgiven Sanders for how he'd treated her back at the orphanage. "She might be a vampire, but she's still a child. She hasn't awakened yet."
Ignoring his glare, Lilith reached down and picked up the wooden sword Ariella had dropped. She paced toward the training dummy, the weapon balanced in her grip. The girl's eyes followed her every step, wide with curiosity. Lilith inhaled slowly, focusing. Without conscious thought, she summoned a flicker of power from deep within, letting it flow through her legs. In the blink of an eye, she disappeared from her spot, reappearing behind the dummy. The wooden head toppled to the ground, cleanly severed.
Lilith turned around, a smirk playing on her lips as Ariella's jaw dropped in astonishment. Sanders, however, didn't share her amusement. His smirk had vanished, replaced by a deep frown. He strode over, snatching the sword from her hand. Resentment flashed in his crimson eyes as he began to reprimand her.
"Body cultivation requires not only rigorous training of the soul, but of the body as well," Sanders said, his tone measured and unwavering. "It's not something you'd understand."
"Understand what, exactly?" Lilith shot back, her voice laced with irritation. The truth was, she didn't understand cultivation—at least not in the way Sanders meant it. She'd never followed the traditional paths of power that vampires revered. Instead, she relied on what she knew best: her raw physical strength. She clenched her fist, recalling countless battles in the Dread Forest against the demonic beasts that lurked there. She'd spent years surviving on strength alone, honing her body into a weapon through necessity. While she might not understand cultivation, she'd mastered something entirely different—something primal.
"You speak as though you're seasoned, but you've yet to see the true depths of power," Sanders said, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"Seen what, exactly?" Lilith's tone was biting now, her patience thinning with each word.
"Brute force alone will only get you so far," Sanders replied with a faint smirk.
Lilith laughed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're one to talk. You seem to have forgotten how many of your men I killed in that forest—'brute force' and all."
A flicker of irritation crossed Sanders' face, but he held his composure. "I haven't forgotten. Not a single one." His gaze lingered on her for a moment, calculating. Then he shook his head slowly. "You can take a beast out of its territory, but a beast will always be a beast."
Lilith's fists tightened, her anger threatening to boil over. Just as she opened her mouth to fire back, Ariella's voice broke through the tension.
"Ah—ow! I think it's worse than it looks," the princess muttered weakly. She was leaning heavily against Sanders for support.
Sanders turned away from Lilith, his focus shifting entirely to Ariella. He gently picked her up, carrying her out of the training room without another word, leaving Lilith alone.
Lilith stood there for a moment, her chest heaving with barely-contained rage. The air around her felt heavy, the room's temperature dropping as her emotions bled out. She pressed her hands to her knees, trying to steady herself as frosty vapor drifted from her lips. She knew she was losing control. If she didn't reign it in, the energy building within her would erupt. It wasn't just anger—something more dangerous churned inside her, a destructive force she could barely contain.
Why was she still here? Her father was gone—had been gone for months now. There was no reason to return to the Dread Forest, and yet no reason to stay in a place filled with vampires either. So why hadn't she left? Why did she linger here, a human among creatures that saw her as nothing more than a brute? Her breathing slowed, but the rage still simmered, threatening to burst free. She needed to get out before she did something irreversible—before she gave into the dark urge whispering in the back of her mind.
But instead of leaving, she found herself standing outside Ariella's chambers. She had no idea why. A strange pull had brought her here, like an invisible thread tethering her to the young vampire princess. The door was ajar, and through it, she could see a healer kneeling at Ariella's side, carefully tending to her injured leg. Sanders hovered nearby, silent but watchful, as the healer worked.
Lilith hesitated. She couldn't explain the connection she felt toward the girl, nor the overwhelming need to protect her. It made no sense. She had no reason to care about Ariella, no logical explanation for why she'd stayed by her side this long. And yet here she was, rooted to the spot, unable to move forward—unable to turn away.
"You've stayed longer than I expected," King Rafael said from beside her. Lilith didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance. Nor did his presence surprise her. She had already come to terms with how far out of her league the man standing next to her truly was.
"What am I supposed to do?" Lilith asked quietly. "If what you said is true, then... I don't have any reason left."
"How old are you?" he asked, his tone almost casual. The question caught her off guard. Why was someone like him—an ageless being—asking about her age?
"I don't know," Lilith admitted. She wasn't lying. When she woke in the forest, time had felt like it stood still. She'd spent what felt like years in that frozen, unchanging landscape, where each day bled into the next without meaning. But since being taken from the forest, subtle changes had started to take hold. Her hair was growing, her body felt different. Yet she still had no idea how much time had truly passed.
"You look about eleven," Rafael remarked, studying her. "Do you know what kids your age usually do?"
"No," she replied, unsure of where he was going with this.
"They live a normal life," he said simply. "You think your purpose is gone. That everything you were holding onto has been ripped away. That there's no point in being here anymore." His voice was steady, not unkind. "I don't blame you for feeling that way. That emptiness in your chest? That's not something I—or anyone else—can fill for you. That's something only you can figure out."
With that, he turned to walk away, leaving Lilith to wrestle with his words.
"How?" she asked, her voice a desperate whisper. "What do I have to do?"
Rafael paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His indigo eyes seemed to catch the light, gleaming as he met her gaze.
"Find a new purpose," he said.