LILITH | DEAN WINCHESTER [ ✓ ]

33. after

◖𓈈﹗ ﹙ capitulo uno ﹚
❛ ▬▬ after . . . ❜

From the intense heat of the flames licking her body, she transitioned to the frigid silence of a defeated cabin that shrank over her head in the span of a second. Lilith Arduenn lay with her mother's lifeless body in her fiery arms and a weak face.

"Lilith," her name emerged from the lips of that mysterious woman and traveled like an austere melody through the corners of the place. "I'm very sorry for what happened."

The presence of the little woman became a bundle of uncontrolled emotions that had made her a prisoner of her thoughts, detached from the mysterious woman and the insistence of a conversation. She had no interest in it whatsoever. The witch suffered the blows of reality, skipping the stage of denial and, as a result, plunging into the destruction of hope for a miracle that would resurrect her. She didn't even think it was a dream. How could a dream feel so real? Her mom had died, and Lilith wanted to die with her. Some might think she was making a rash and excessive decision, while others would understand that her life would go through a breaking point she feared she couldn't survive. Lilith didn't notice the difference between killing herself in that very moment or doing it months later, after attempting to continue with her life and realizing she couldn't. The only thing she wanted—and the reason for her suicidal desire—was to be with her mom, wherever she was. It was all she wanted: to be with her, and if she couldn't be in the earthly world, she would be in the spiritual one, where their souls would rest together. That sounded fantastic to Lilith. So she tried again, she ignited the flames and let them continue their mission.

"No," said the woman, and the flames went out. "You're not welcome in heaven. You're not going to go with her."

Lilith wiped her clouded eyes to clear away the tears that prevented her from seeing the woman at the end of the room, bathed in the shadows that only accentuated the whitish color of her long dress. When the folds danced in the moonlight streaming through the window, the cerulean eyes conveyed a twisted and eerie sense of familiar warmth. Her eyes were identical to Lilith's.

"What?" Her voice startled her, unrecognizable. She was hurt and weak.

"She is in heaven," the woman approached slightly. "Her soul rests there, probably reliving a memory with you. In peace. It's tempting to want to go, but they don't want you there. They'll send you to hell, and you won't see your mom again. So... is it worth killing yourself?"

"Who are they?"

"The angels," she determined, and the air she breathed became heavy and repulsive.

Angels, the word resonated in her head. Angels. The existence of these creatures only took a moment of her concentration, and indeed, she had already debunked her belief in mainstream Christian religion by juxtaposing the existence of demons and hell, and thus, heaven and angels were a high probability that she believed should not be confined to the Christian religious conception held by most believers, who saw angels as benevolent beings. For years, Lilith believed in the existence of an all-powerful being, and that didn't mean the image of a perfect god. No way! Angels fell into the same category. But what did catch her attention and diverted her from her suicidal thoughts was the mystery of the woman.