Lilith froze.
The cold from the floor seeped up through her shoes, chilling her spine as the darkness closed around her and the other her. The girl's silhouette was barely visible now just an outline in the candle smoke. But her presence filled the room, heavy as grief.
"You don't remember, do you?"
"Remember what?" Lilith whispered.
"The deal."
"What deal?"
"The one you made to forget the pain."
The other Lilith tilted her head, her smile soft and broken.
"You gave them something… and in return, they made you forget everything that would've destroyed you."
Lilith's hands trembled. "I never—I wouldn't..."
"You did."
"When?"
"When your mother died."
That stopped everything.
The air thickened. The silence screamed.
Lilith's lips parted, and her breath caught , because no, her mother wasn't dead. She was alive. She had to be.
Right?
But suddenly, her memories… they didn't line up.
She could remember her mother's perfume, the soft hum of her voice in the kitchen, the lullabies.
But her face?
Blurred.
And every memory after age thirteen… disjointed. Like someone had taken scissors to her past and glued it back together wrong.
Lilith backed away from the other girl, who now stepped forward, eyes gleaming.
"They said if you gave them the memory, the pain would go away. And you… you gave it freely. You just didn't know what else they'd take."
Lilith clutched the book tighter to her chest. "Who are they?"
The girl pointed toward the ceiling.
No ... beyond it.
"The Watchers. The ones who whisper stories into your dreams. The ones who feed on forgotten things. And now… they want you to remember. Because the story's not over."
Suddenly the room trembled.
A low hum began, like a distant chant rising in waves. The girl's form flickered, like a candle in wind.
"They're waking up," she said. "You need to go before they reach you."
"How do I get out?" Lilith asked.
The girl reached out, placing a blood-smudged finger against Lilith's forehead.
"The way out is through the worst of it. Through the night you buried. Through the lake."
Lilith's vision blurred.
And the world tilted...
She woke up on her bedroom floor, clutching the book.
No candlelight. No trapdoor. No bloodied twin.
Just her room.
But now… there was mud on her shoes. Wet. Real.
And the book?
No longer blank.
Page 121 had appeared.
It showed a funeral.
Her mother's.
And Lilith was the only one not crying.