Lilith's feet pounded the earth, her breath ragged as she made her way back toward the clearing. The trees closed in, their branches like clawed fingers reaching down, whispering her name. Every step she took felt heavier than the last, as if the forest itself was trying to hold her back.
But she couldn't stop now.
Her head was spinning. What had the boy meant? "Go back to the house."
What house?
Her heart twisted, and a cold dread settled in her chest. There was only one house that mattered now, one place she couldn't remember but deep down, she knew it was the answer.
The one she'd blocked out.
The road stretched out in front of her, a long, winding path leading to the old house at the edge of town. She hadn't been here in years. The place where her memories grew fuzzy. The place she thought had been abandoned.
But as she neared, she saw the lights flicker in the windows faint, like shadows moving behind the curtains.
Lilith froze.
They're here.
The door creaked open as if it had been waiting for her, inviting her in. Her pulse quickened. She wanted to turn around, run as far away as she could, but something held her in place.
The house knew her.
With trembling hands, she stepped inside.
It was just as she remembered the musty smell, the faded wallpaper peeling at the edges. But it felt… wrong. Like it had been preserved in time, frozen the moment she left.
And then, from the corner of the room, she saw it. A single chair, overturned.
The memories flooded back.
Her mother, sitting in that chair, tears in her eyes, telling her she was sorry. Always sorry. She had been apologizing for years, but Lilith never understood why.
But now?
Now she remembered.
Lilith moved toward the chair, her fingers grazing the cold wood as if testing it to make sure it was real. The same chair where her mother had given her the book. The book she had burned. The book that had started this entire nightmare.
She turned to the mantle. Above it, a picture frame sat crookedly a family photo. Her, her mother, and someone else. The boy. The one who had been haunting her.
She didn't remember the photo being there.
"You remember now," a voice whispered from behind her.
Her breath hitched. She spun around to face the darkness of the hallway.
No one was there.
But the air was thick, suffocating with something old, something forgotten.
And there it was a shadow in the doorway. Not just any shadow, but her mother's silhouette, standing in the frame, her arms extended like she was waiting for Lilith to come to her.
"You have to finish it," the voice said again. It was her mother's, but it wasn't her mother. "You have to finish what you started."
The air grew colder. The shadows in the corners of the room stretched like they were alive, moving toward her.
Lilith's heart pounded as she backed away from the mantle, her hands gripping the wall for support. "I… I don't understand."
"You understand," the voice insisted. "It's already too late."
Her mother's figure started to move, step by step, coming closer with every second. The same hollow eyes. The same cold smile.
"You can't outrun it, Lilith. You never could."
The shadows crawled across the floor, wrapping themselves around her legs, pulling her toward the center of the room.
And then she heard it.
The faintest sound. A whisper. Her name.
She turned. The boy was there again, standing in the doorway.
"They know," he said softly. "And they're coming."
The house seemed to creak in response, as if agreeing with him.
Lilith stepped back, heart racing, panic swelling in her chest. She knew the truth now. She had to face it. But how?
"There is no running anymore," the boy said, his voice growing distant. "You belong to the Watchers now."
The floor beneath her feet began to tremble, and the walls seemed to pulse with a heartbeat of their own. And in the distance, she could hear them the faintest sound of footsteps, growing closer.
Lilith's breath caught in her throat. There was no escape.
Her mother's voice rang out one final time, sharp and piercing.
"Finish it, Lilith. You have to finish it!"