Lilith's body still trembled faintly atop the soaked chair.
Her breathing was uneven—each exhale felt like the remnants of a curse not yet lifted. Clear liquid still dripped slowly between her thighs. Her hands were limp, sticky with the sin she had just etched alone.
Silence loomed, heavy like ash after fire.
Lilith sat, not as a goddess, not as a seductress—just a being made of wet skin and collapsing breath. No chants. No trembling walls. Only her heartbeat, slowed to a whisper. A slow fade after the storm. A moment that should've felt victorious, but only tasted hollow.
She looked at her fingers— slick, trembling.
This was not power.
Not holiness.
Just her.
And then—
"Beeeep... Beeeep…"
A sound echoed.
Not the whistle of the wind.
Nor the whispers of holy spirits.
But the sound of a modern object— forever able to shackle human focus. Nathan's phone was ringing. The device was fully charged; Lilith had recharged it in ways that defied proper description.
