When the little girl woke in her tiny bed, the night was at its deepest.
She didn’t want to get up; turbid dreams urged her back into slumber, and she felt a lingering desire for eternal sleep.
“Not today, Lilith,” she told herself.
“Today is the day school starts.”
With a quick kick of her legs, the thin silk quilt flowed away like water.
The moonlight was cold and thin, spilling over the window frame and soaking into her skin.
Dazzling blonde hair spread across her back like flickering sunlight or a slanted spiderweb.
Her shoulders were slender, her collarbones delicate, and her skin was a porcelain white so pale it was almost transparent. Faintly blue blood pulsed through her veins like suspended ghost-light.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she walked slowly toward the living room. Her snow-white feet stepped lightly on the dust-covered floor, leaving a trail of small footprints.
It was a peaceful, serene morning.
Mother was busy in the kitchen, the spatula clattering against the pan.
Father sat on the sofa reading the newspaper, turning a page every now and then.
Lilith’s voice was crisp, like the shaking of silver bells.
“Mother, what are we eating today?”
“Sweet lettuce slices and bitter shepherd’s purse soup.”
“Butter-fried pancakes and bacon-wrapped sausage.”
“It’s very tasty, and it smells so good.”
“I can’t wait to have a taste.”
“Father, what are you reading?”
“Balor Academy is opening. Every pure young girl under the age of fourteen has a chance to become a witch’s apprentice, preparing herself for a future devotion to the Devil.”
“Father, what is a witch?”
“A witch is a cat’s shadow flitting through the enchanting moonlight. A witch is a puppet on transparent strings in a magnificent theater. A witch is a dying nightingale in a cursed golden cage. Beneath that bright moon, they laugh, they sing, they dance, and they indulge. They smear themselves with witch’s ointment and drink fine wine. They boil heads in cauldrons, grind teeth into jewels, and sew human skin into beautiful little clothes.”
“That is a witch. That is what a witch is!”
“Lilith wants to be a witch. A cute little witch who drinks the white moonlight, swirls her dance steps in the shadows, and wears a wedding dress that erodes the night like a dream.”
“Good, good. Father and Mother both support you. You are our most beloved child!”
“Sing a song for me. Sing a song.”
“La la la~”
Mother tossed aside her spatula, and Father threw down his newspaper. Both came to the living room, their steps swaying as they danced hand-in-hand.
A music box began to chime.
“Little baby… I make a rainbow promise to you… after the wind and rain… the sun will smile… grow up in peace… welcome a hopeful future… just like red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet…”
“It sounds so good. Lilith likes it very much.”
“Father, Mother, I love you.”
“Father, Mother, Lilith is going to school now. I won’t be coming back. You… are free.”
The rustle of a skirt, the creak of a hinge.
The girl reached back and pulled the dilapidated wooden door shut. She stood on the doorstep for a long time, tears of reluctance sliding down her small face.
Inside the living room, two mangled “Split-Head Fiends” received their final command. They let out high-pitched screeches that could pierce eardrums, smashed through the walls in a flash of red, and vanished into the thick night.
–
A black latex glove brushed past glass jars filled with soaking organs.
The jars were heavy and massive, covered in thick dust, their inner walls coated with a layer of grime accumulated over years of immersion.
Within the turbid liquid, sightless eyeballs, tangled tentacles, shattered viscera, sliced eustachian tubes, deformed pituitary sacs, and funnel-shaped mouths lined with sharp teeth… a variety of biological specimens that looked neither human nor animal floated inside.
–
It was a monster over two meters tall.
Its pupils were shattered, the whites of its eyes stained black. Bone plates grew over its exterior, and its nose and mouth had mutated into an avian beak. It stood upright like a human, but its head and shoulders were covered in black feathers, and raven wings draped behind its back.
Its entire body emitted a profound, dark radiance, shimmering with a strange metallic luster amidst the deep black.
Inexpressible, mysterious, unknown, and ominous—it paced between life and death like a creation of hell itself.
The monster walked down the aisle of the collection room, its heavy footsteps making the warped floorboards creak sharply.
The black glove brushed past glass containers. The dates on the labels grew more recent, and the jars became newer.
Finally, at the very end of the collection room, sat a brand-new glass jar, spotless and clean.
It was placed alone on a high stool.
The monster held a candle high. The light passed through the crystal-clear liquid, illuminating the face of a little girl.
The thing soaking inside the jar was a human girl. Her features were exquisite, her orange hair curled like seaweed, and her skin had been soaked into a gelatinous texture like fish skin. Her eyes were tightly shut.
The monster took out a small silver hammer. With a flick of its wrist, it tapped a series of beautiful notes against the glass wall.
The girl in the jar snapped her eyes open!
–
Medeili hooked her arms over the rim of the jar, the wet liquid streaming down her hair, cheeks, and neck.
“Why wake me?” Her voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.
The monster pressed a hand to its chest and gave a deep, respectful bow. Its tone was reverent.
“Balor Academy is opening, my Mistress.”
Glub!
Medeili dove back into the water, closing her eyes to play dead.
“Mistress,” the monster’s tone held a hint of helplessness. “You said it yourself—if you soak for too long, you’ll turn sour.”
“Your scent is already… not very pleasant.”
“Mistress, the world changes, and time flies. Isn’t it a pity to let the days soak away one by one?”
“No prince from a fairy tale is coming to kiss you awake. There is only an old servant who watches tree roots grow mushrooms every day, waiting for you.”
