Lilith finally stepped into her room, the weight of the night still pressing heavily on her shoulders. Without hesitation, she headed straight to the bathroom, craving the solace of warm water to wash away the tension. As the shower cascaded over her, the steady rhythm of droplets against her skin began to ease the tightness in her chest.
For a brief moment, the world outside faded, and Lilith allowed herself to breathe. The warmth enveloped her, soothing the ache in her muscles and quieting the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Though the events of the mountaintop and her confrontation with Azareon lingered, the shower offered her a fleeting reprieve—a chance to gather herself before facing whatever came next.
She stepped out, her damp hair framing her face as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, though weary, held a spark of determination. Lilith knew the night wasn't over—not entirely—but for now, she had reclaimed a small piece of calm.
Lilith tossed and turned in her bed, the voice and the dark aura haunting her thoughts like shadows she couldn't escape. Every time she closed her eyes, the memory of the mountaintop and the chilling presence resurfaced, refusing to let her rest. Frustrated and restless, she sat up, her crimson-tinged eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight streaming through her window.
She couldn't ignore it anymore. Whatever this was—this voice, this aura—it wasn't going to leave her alone. If she wanted answers, she'd have to find them herself. Determined, Lilith rose from her bed and stepped into the castle's silent halls.
The vast corridors stretched ahead, illuminated only by the faint glow of sconces mounted on the walls. Their flickering flames danced across the intricate carvings and tapestries that adorned the space, casting long shadows that seemed alive in the moonlit night. The soft hum of the wind outside whispered through cracks in the ancient stone, carrying with it a faint chill that made the quiet even more pronounced.
Lilith's footsteps echoed softly as she made her way toward the library, the sound accompanied only by the distant creak of old wood settling in the castle's foundation. Even in its stillness, the castle felt alive—like it was watching her every move, its towering walls filled with secrets she had yet to uncover.
When she reached the library, its grand entrance loomed before her like the gates to another world. The doors, crafted from heavy oak and reinforced with gleaming metal, bore intricate engravings of dragons and celestial figures, their forms frozen in timeless battle. Lilith pushed them open, the creak reverberating through the cavernous space.
The library was vast, its shelves stretching to the high ceilings in perfect symmetry. Rows upon rows of books filled the space, their spines adorned with faded titles and symbols that spoke of long-forgotten wisdom. Chandeliers hung overhead, their dim light casting a golden hue on the polished floor. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper and ink—a fragrance that carried an unspoken promise of knowledge.
The princess moved between the shelves, her fingers brushing lightly over the worn leather bindings as she searched for answers. Each book seemed to whisper its own story, calling out to her as she scanned their titles. Her mind raced with questions—what was the voice? Why had the aura appeared? And why did it feel so deeply connected to her?
The library's stillness surrounded her, broken only by the faint rustle of pages as she began to immerse herself in her search. The night stretched on, the flickering candles casting shadows that danced across the room, while Lilith delved deeper into the labyrinth of knowledge. Though her body was weary, her determination burned brightly. She knew she was on the cusp of uncovering something important—something that might change everything.
Her focus sharpened as she moved through the towering shelves, pulling out books of various sizes and subjects. With her angelic abilities, her hands moved quickly, flipping through the pages at an almost inhuman speed. Each book revealed its essence to her—its overarching themes, the knowledge it contained—without her needing to read it in full.
Books on celestial beings, magical auras, and arcane powers passed through her hands like the wind, their information filtering into her thoughts in broad strokes. Her abilities allowed her to sift through them rapidly, discarding those that held no relevance to her search. Yet, for all the speed and precision, a quiet frustration began to build.
None of the books she scanned so far spoke of anything resembling the voice or the black aura. It was as though the castle's vast library, rich with history and secrets, remained stubbornly silent about the one mystery she most needed to solve. But she refused to give up, her fingers now brushing over the spines of older tomes, their titles faded from time.
The room's dim light glinted faintly on her wings as she paused to open another book, her mind racing as she pieced together fragments of knowledge. Somewhere in these shelves lay the answers she sought—she was sure of it. All she had to do was keep searching.
Minutes passed as she continued her meticulous search, moving from one section of the library to the next. Her fingers brushed over countless spines, absorbing the essence of each book with her angelic abilities. Then, almost without realizing it, she came upon an imposing section near the far wall. The titles here were different—etched in sharp, angular fonts and shrouded in an eerie, dark aura.
Books on dark magic, demons, and creatures of the underworld filled the shelves, their presence almost palpable in the dimly lit room. The air felt heavier here, and a faint chill crept along her skin as her eyes scanned the intimidating titles.
At first, she dismissed the section entirely, convinced it held nothing of value to her search. Yet, as she turned back to the other shelves, a spark of curiosity flickered within her. Something about the aura of the books on dark magic and demons tugged at her, an unshakable feeling that there might be more to them than she wanted to admit. Reluctantly, she returned to the wall, her fingers hesitating for only a moment before reaching out to examine one of the tomes.
Her fingers brushed over the covers of the ominous tomes, their dark leather bindings worn and cracked with age. Each title whispered of creatures from realms far beyond human comprehension, their names and depictions sending a chill down her spine. Carefully, she pulled one from the shelf, its weight heavier than she expected, and began flipping through the brittle pages.