Lilith was in her guest room on the second floor.
Her feet swung in the air. On the bed, a collection of small trinkets—glass beads, unpolished stones, small metal pendants. She took one, examined it, threaded it onto a leather cord. Took another. Strung it.
She was making a bracelet.
She worked slowly, meticulously. When she finished, she tried it on her own wrist. She turned it. The light came through the window and made the stones gleam.
She took it off.
She dropped it into a decorated box. The inside lined with velvet. She closed the lid.
She went downstairs.
---
The master was at the counter attending to a customer.
The woman struggled to pay while holding onto her son, a boy no more than five who squirmed in her arm and reached toward the perfume shelves. He wanted to touch them all. The mother shouted at him. The boy didn't listen.
Lilith approached the counter. She held out the box to the master.
"Leave it on that cabinet," he said without looking at her.
She did so.
The woman finally found the coins. She dropped them on the counter.
"Tha— stop it, boy!" she shouted. "Thank you."
She turned around.
"You'll see when we get home," she told the boy.
She slammed the door shut.
The master massaged his temples. He looked at Lilith, who had returned to the counter and was adjusting the smallest detail of the order's packaging. Straightening a corner. Smoothing a crease.
"You're obsessed with perfection too?"
"Not really," she replied without looking up. "I'm bored."
He turned red.
The color rose up his neck, reached his cheeks, tinted his ears.
"You can't talk to me like that. I'm your master."
She said nothing. Instead, she looked at the door.
"Not many people come through here. Why don't you look for more clients and I'll accompany you?"
"If I went out, I couldn't improve my formulas. Besides, I don't need to. From the very first day, I just opened my shop and people came in on their own. Alone. Without me doing anything."
Lilith's mood sank.
Her shoulders dropped. She left the package on the counter.
"I see," she said.
She went upstairs.
---
Later, she was lying on her bed looking at the ceiling.
The wooden beams. The cracks in the plaster. A spiderweb in the corner she hadn't noticed before.
I won't get anywhere if I can't leave. Days will pass and they'll send me to the flower field.
She turned to one side.
She noticed the window was open.
The wooden shutter moved with the wind, tapping softly against the frame.
She thought about it for a moment.
Then she got up and went to the window.
She looked down. The street was empty. Cobblestone ground, stone walls, closed doors.
She jumped.
She landed with a soft thud. Her feet barely made a sound. She crouched for a moment, listening.
No one.
She looked around. To her surprise, there was no one on the street. Not to the left. Not to the right. The houses seemed empty. The shops, closed.
She began to walk.
She searched for where everyone was. The silence was too dense. Too complete. Then she heard it. A clamor. Distant, but growing.
She followed the sound.
Street after street. Each step brought her closer. The voices grew clearer. More numerous.
She reached the square.
A crowd filled it completely. People packed together, shoulder to shoulder, looking toward the center. Lilith stayed at the edge, too far away, the people in front of her a wall of backs and hats.
But she could still see the stage in the center.
A wooden platform. Tall. White. Columns at the corners. And at the center, a man in purple and gold robes.
A bishop.
He appeared and raised his hands.
"Today is a day of victory!" His voice expanded through the square, echoing off the facades. "People, today we have witnessed the benevolence of God!"
The crowd roared.
"The cursed demon that tormented us in the forests has been captured!"
Everyone celebrated. The place filled with jubilation. Shouts. Applause. The bishop smiled, waited, let the tide overflow.
Lilith stood on tiptoes. She couldn't see anything.
The bishop raised his hands again.
Silence returned.
"Thanks to our royal guard troops, we have brought him here. To end his wickedness before all of us! So that you may witness that we can trust in God and the King!"
A pause. The bishop took a deep breath.
"Bring him forth!"
Lilith stretched further. She pushed her way between two people. Her elbows shoved. Her shoulders forced through.
She saw a figure.
Frail. Hunched. Barely walking. Rotten flesh hung from him in pieces, like old rags that fell away with each step. His hands chained before him. Two soldiers pulled him forward, dragged him, pushed him onto the stage.
"There's the monster!" someone near Lilith shouted.
The crowd erupted.
Jeers. Stones. Something hit him on the shoulder. Something on his back. The man tried to cover himself, but his hands were chained. He could only turn his head. Useless.
The bishop declared:
"I myself will carry out the execution!"
The public's roar grew enormous. Voices merged into a single sound. Hands waved. Stones kept flying.
Lilith, instead, felt the life draining from her body.
Her legs weakened. Her arms fell to her sides.
It was Rosmel.