Lilith's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding with a pain so sharp it felt like her skull was cracking. She tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy, as if shackled to the ground.
The air around her was thick, heavy with the scent of decay and something else something cold. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to push herself up, only to find that the room was eerily still.
The shadows were gone. The Watchers, too, had disappeared. The oppressive weight she'd felt moments before had lifted, but it was replaced with a gnawing emptiness.
She was alone.
But she wasn't safe.
Lilith forced herself to sit up, her surroundings coming into focus. She was in a small, dimly lit room, its walls covered in faded wallpaper, cracked and peeling at the edges. The air was thick with dust, and the only sound was the faint creak of the house settling around her.
Where am I?
Her gaze shifted, and her heart dropped into her stomach.
She was back in the house but it was different now. The familiar warmth that had once filled these walls was gone. In its place, the cold of abandonment lingered like a warning.
A voice echoed in her mind.
You made a choice.
Lilith flinched. She recognized the voice, but it wasn't comforting. It wasn't familiar. It was foreign, distant, cold.
The boy.
Her memories of him had been hazy, but now, as the fog in her mind began to lift, fragments of their time together came flooding back. The way he had looked at her, the way his eyes held something unspeakable something he had never told her. Something he had kept hidden.
You're not the one who can stop them.
The words rang in her ears.
Lilith stood, her legs unsteady beneath her as she moved through the room, her feet carrying her toward the narrow hallway. Each step felt like it took everything out of her, but she couldn't stop. She couldn't afford to be trapped here again, in this house that was now a tomb for her memories.
The house was alive, she realized. It was a part of everything. The walls, the floor, the shadows they were all tied to something she didn't understand.
Something ancient.
She reached the door at the end of the hall, the one she had once tried to avoid. The one she thought she had forgotten. But now, it was impossible to ignore. The pull, the call of what lay beyond it, was undeniable.
With trembling hands, she grasped the doorknob. The door creaked open, revealing a room she hadn't stepped into in years the room where it all began.
The room where her memories had started to unravel.
The walls were lined with shelves, filled with old books and papers. The desk in the center of the room was cluttered with scattered notes, yellowing documents, and a single, familiar object the book.
Her mother's book.
The book that had started this nightmare.
Lilith's pulse quickened as she reached for it. The cover was faded, the edges worn with age, but the letters on the spine were unmistakable. Her mother's handwriting.
The Price of Peace.
She hesitated for a moment, then pulled the book from the shelf. The moment her fingers brushed against the cover, a chill ran through her. The air around her thickened once again, and the room seemed to grow darker.
She opened the book, her hands shaking as she flipped through the pages. The words seemed to swim before her eyes, impossible to read, but familiar.
And then, there it was.
The sentence that had haunted her dreams.
To escape is to pay a price that cannot be undone.
Lilith felt her breath catch in her throat. Her mother's words. The same words that had been burned into her memory. But what did they mean?
"It's time, Lilith," a voice whispered from the shadows.
She froze, the book slipping from her hands and falling to the floor with a soft thud. Slowly, she turned toward the door, her heart racing in her chest.
There, standing in the doorway, was the boy no, the man. He was different now, older, his features sharper, his eyes colder.
"You're here," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You… you were right."
The man stepped into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. His gaze never left hers.
"It's not too late to stop this," he said, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. "But you have to remember. You have to face what you've buried."
Lilith swallowed hard, her throat dry. The book. The house. The Watchers. Everything was connected. She had to remember. But how?
"You can't outrun the past, Lilith," the man said softly. "You never could. And now, you've awakened it."
The room seemed to close in on her again, the shadows flickering in the corners, stretching toward her like they were alive. The house was breathing. Waiting. Hungry.
"The Watchers are already here," the man continued, his eyes darkening. "And they're not going to stop until they have what they want."
The sound of footsteps echoed behind her, and Lilith turned, her heart pounding in her chest. The shadows were moving again, creeping along the walls, coming closer.
She had no time left.
Lilith's eyes locked with the man's. "What do I do?"
"Finish it," he said simply. "You have to finish what you started. There's no other way."
The darkness closed in around her, and she realized there was no escape. No way out of the trap she had walked into. She had made the choice, and now she had to live with it.
The Watchers were coming.
And she was their only hope.