The rooftop door slammed shut behind Lilith, the metallic clang echoing into the cold night air. Wind whipped her midnight hair across her face, carrying with it the faint smell of ozone and the pulse of something ancient—something hunting.
The city glittered below, wedding lights spilling out of the banquet hall windows, music faintly audible even at this height. But up here, under the silver moon, there was no warmth. Just silence. And a predator waiting.
Her pupils narrowed to thin slits. That aura… not human. Not demon. Something else.
From the far edge of the rooftop, a figure stepped out of the shadows. Cloaked in black, their boots crunched against gravel with measured precision, every movement deliberate, coiled like a predator who had already chosen its prey.
"Lilith," the figure said, voice low, almost reverent—yet carrying a venom that made the hairs on her arms rise. "Or should I say… Lilitthra Veyra, Queen of the Abyss."
