From the bishop's hand, a ring of blue light formed.
Suddenly, a blinding flash.
Nothing seemed to have happened. The bishop remained in his place. The crowd held its breath.
But Rosmel began to pull.
He pulled at his chains. The shackles would not give. He pulled harder. His wrists stretched. The flesh elongated. Then his hands separated from his arms.
He fell backward.
He looked at his stumps. Opened his mouth. No sound came out.
He tried to stand. His leg separated. The thigh rolled across the stage. The shin broke in two. The toes scattered like seeds.
Thus he came apart.
An arm. A side. The jaw that Lilith had healed detached and fell with a dull thud.
Everything was coming undone.
The remains still moved. The pieces dragged themselves across the wood, as if trying to flee, as if trying to come together again. A pile of dust trying to be something. Then less. Then nothing.
There was nothing left to recognize.
The crowd was astonished.
Silence. Then a murmur. Then a shout. Then everyone shouting together.
The demon had vanished.
"Enough," said the bishop. "Thus we close this holy day."
The people shouted. Celebrated. They began to throw offerings. Coins of different sizes and colors fell onto the stage. Bronze. Silver. Some gold. A few rolled to the bishop's feet. Others hit the wood and bounced among Rosmel's remains.
The bishop only smiled, hands raised.
---
Lilith, in contrast, felt dim.
As if she felt no emotion at all.
Her arms hung. Her legs held her by inertia. The crowd around her was a river that flowed without touching her. The shouts of jubilation were just noise.
She looked at the empty stage.
She looked at the coins gleaming in the sun.
She lost the motivation to explore.
Better to return to the shop. She took advantage that the people would stay there, that no one would look at her, that no one would notice her absence. She walked between backs, between hats, between raised arms that kept applauding.
---
Already beneath the window, she stopped.
She looked up. The wooden shutter was still open. The white curtain still moved with the wind.
She levitated.
She left the ground effortlessly. She rose slowly, brushing the wall. She entered through the frame. Her feet touched the floor of the room.
Everything again.
Silence.
Nothing to do.
The same beams. The same bed. The same spiderweb in the corner. The same ceiling she had stared at hours before.
Lilith growled audibly with frustration.
"Am I really going to stay here doing nothing?" she said aloud.
She punched her mattress. The blow sank the fabric, raising a small cloud of dust. Then another. Then another.
She breathed.
She forced herself to calm down.
She left the room. Crossed the hallway. Reached the master's door. It was ajar. A line of candlelight filtered through the crack.
She peered in.
The master was sitting at his small desk, his back to her. The room was lit only by that candle. The essence bottles covered the table. Mortars. Glass rods. Droppers.
She looked at him with a severe face.
He noticed. Turned his head.
"Lilith," he said. "Come. See what I made."
She entered. Approached the desk.
"I managed to balance the scent of lyra and lemon verbena," he explained. "What do you think?"
He took a small bottle. Unstoppered it and brought it to Lilith's nose.
She smelled the mixture. Sweet and bitter at the same time. Something familiar. Something new. She made a gesture. Neither affirmation nor denial.
"Master," she said, pulling back from the bottle. "I really think I should go out. Not even to look for customers, but... just to do something else."
He set down the rod he was holding.
"Why would I want to go out? I have everything I need."
"You can't live inside a paper. That simply isn't living."
"You sound like my wife."
"Well, if you want, I will accompany you outside to sell your perfumes," Lilith leaned toward him. "But let's do something."
The master tensed. His shoulders stiffened.
"Slaves do not give orders to their masters."
"But you didn't buy me because you think I'm just a slave."
He began to arrange his utensils. Moved bottles from place to place. Aligned the rods. His jaw was clenched.
"And where do you propose we start?"
"You said people came on their own here. Surely the same will happen at the market."
"Fine," he said reluctantly. "I'll prepare something."
"Good."
Lilith relaxed. Her shoulders lowered. The tension left her face.
She left him to his thoughts.
She left the room to return to hers.
She went to the window. Looked outside. The street was still empty. The shop awnings were still lowered. The sun was beginning to tilt toward the west.
She climbed onto the sill and jumped again.