Her voice floated to me from the rose garden, soft yet unmistakable. "Sierra, come my child."
Despite every reason to be frightened, an inexplicable calm washed over me. Something in her tone banished all hesitation. My feet moved of their own accord, not with cautious steps but with eager strides. I ran to her, drawn by an invisible thread that connected us across the fragrant garden, my heart racing not from fear but from a strange, compelling anticipation.
Lilith waited there, her figure bathed in a soft, ethereal glow that transformed the surrounding shadows from menacing to comforting. She emanated vitality in a way I hadn't anticipated—as if grief and devotion had intertwined to forge something remarkably resilient yet tender. The ancient lines around her eyes spoke of wisdom earne
