Chapter 13: The Sorrowful end of Lilith.
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Lilith was tired.
Tired of running.
Tired of praying.
Tired of hoping.
She worried endlessly about how to remove the curse, but every path she took led to nothing. No ritual worked. No prayer answered. No sacrifice was enough. Every attempt ended the same: failure.
And she couldn’t understand why.
It had been a casual love. A simple affection. A small desire for comfort, for money, for a better life—just like any other girl.
Was that such a sin?
Why had it cost her so much?
Why did everyone she loved have to die?
She looked up at the sky one night and whispered through tears,
“Why me?”
She questioned fate. She blamed the heavens.
“What sin did I commit in my past life to deserve this?”
“What crime was so great that death keeps following me?”
No answer came. Only silence.
And slowly… painfully… death began to feel like the only solution.
If her life could end this cycle—
If her blood could stop claiming the lives of others—
Then she was willing.
If her death could protect the people still breathing,
then she would accept it.
She returned to the priest.
Her eyes were hollow. Her voice barely a whisper.
“Is it really the only way?” she asked.
“Is there truly no other solution?”
The priest looked at her for a long time. His eyes full of pity and sorrow. Then he nodded.
“Yes,” he said softly.
“It seems… it is the only way.”
His eyes filled with tears. They slipped down his wrinkled face as he looked at her with deep compassion.
Lilith bowed her head.
She walked away slowly, her steps heavy with sorrow.
That night, she questioned her entire life. She cursed the heavens. She blamed fate. She hated herself.
But by morning, something changed.
She made a decision.
A quiet one.
A firm one.
A decision to atone for her sins.
To save whoever was left.
To end the damned bloody curse—once and for all.
For the next few days, she lived gently.
She smiled.
She ate what she loved.
She watched sunsets.
She laughed softly, as if memorizing the feeling.
Then she burned everything she owned.
Clothes.
Books.
Memories.
Anything that could tie her to someone else. Anything that could harm another soul.
As the flames rose, she smiled.
“I’ll end this,” she whispered.
“Once and for all.”
She only hoped that in her next life… life would be kinder to her.
That night, she ended her life.
But she died smiling.
Between life and death, something screamed inside her mind.
A horrifying presence. A dark figure clawing at her soul. A voice roaring, “Don’t die!”
It tried to seize her spirit. Tried to drag her back.
But Lilith didn’t fight.
She was determined.
She let go.
Henry only learned of her death later.
When he heard how she had died—alone, broken, smiling—he collapsed.
He cried until his chest hurt. Until his voice vanished.
“Oh Lilith…” he whispered.
“My poor sister…”
He remembered her words, her gentle laugh, her sorrow, the way she had carried the curse alone. And for the first time, Henry truly understood—
Some people don’t die because they are weak.
They die because they are tired of carrying the world’s curse alone.
Even after she was gone, her memory lingered in every corner of his mind. The pain, the fear, the love, the guilt—it was all there, sharp and raw. He could almost hear her voice whispering to him in the quiet of the night, telling him to live, to survive, to remember her.
Lilith’s sacrifice was final, yet in her final act, she had found a sliver of peace. For a brief moment, the world was lighter. Her blood would no longer claim the lives of those she loved. And though she was gone, a part of her courage remained—burned into the hearts of those who survived, like a quiet fire that refused to be extinguished.
And Henry, broken yet alive, held onto that fire, knowing that some burdens are too heavy for one soul alone, and some sacrifices are too deep for tears to fully honor.
- Writer
