Lilith's Arc

Chapter 26 of 40

The book was sealed, but the cold followed Lilith home. It reached inside her skull now. She sat at her table and tried to picture her wedding day. The colors came, yellow and teal, but the sound thinned. She could not hear Tre's voice. The thread was pulling at what she had never written. She needed Nyx. Nyx had guided her through every hard choice. Now she called her name into the dark and got nothing back. She called again. She had always found Nyx in shadow, at the edge of night. But the shadows stayed empty. No cool voice. No plain answer. Lilith pressed her hands to the table and felt the panic rise. The one who told her what to sacrifice, and when, was gone. The thread would take her mind while she waited for counsel that did not come. So she went to find her. Lilith walked until she reached the goddess of night's home, its silver spires curved like crescent moons. She pounded the tall door the way she had pounded Mnemora's. It swung open. Nyx stood inside, small in her black dress, her purple eyes steady. She was not weaving spells or reading. She was doing nothing. "You didn't answer," Lilith said. "No." "The thread is in my head now. It's taking Tre's voice. Tell me what to do." Nyx looked at her for a long moment. "I can't." "You always could." "I told you what to give up. Every time." Nyx's voice stayed flat. "The wolf. The night Tre was sick. I chose the losses for you. That is why I stopped." She did not soften it. "I made you good at losing things. You don't need me for that anymore." Lilith's throat tightened. "I don't know how to fight it alone." "You do. You just want someone to blame if it goes wrong." Nyx stepped closer. "I carry the faces of everyone I failed to save. I won't carry yours because I told you the wrong thing. Seal your own memory. In your own voice. No one chooses this one but you." The words landed hard. Lilith wanted to argue. But she felt the cold bite deeper, and she understood Nyx would not stop it for her. She closed her eyes. She reached for the wedding day herself, the sound of Tre singing. She sang it back, low, holding the note against the pull. The seahorse at her throat glowed teal and fed her breath. She did not wait for gold light. She did not wait for a plan. She held the memory in her own song until the cold let go. When she opened her eyes, Nyx was watching, silent. "It held," Lilith said. "Yes," Nyx said. "Now do it again tomorrow. Without me." Lilith walked out alone. The counsel was gone for good. But her voice had held the thread, and it was hers.