Chapter Text
Faroe stood there, gazing at the gore around her, tears streaming down her face. Arthur, her father, lay in a mixture of his own blood and her mother, Bella’s, their hands outstretched for each other. A glance in the other direction had her staring at her grandfather and their family friends. The combination of party décor and blood created a tragic scene that was forever burned in her mind, alongside that sinister whisper of the madman.
“Happy birthday, kiddo,” He had whispered, directly into her ear as she stared, dumbfounded at the surrounding horror.
She had heard his voice once before, a lifetime ago when she was just a child, sitting in the bathtub while the melodic sounds of her father playing the piano drifted through the house, her mother humming along in the kitchen. He had been gone for hours now, and she could do nothing but stare, paralysed by the unreality of the situation. Her legs gave out and she felt blood soak into her stockings, and she sobbed. Gasping and struggling to take in a single gulp of breath, she clasped a hand over her mouth, snot and tears covering it. She cried out into the emptiness, the silence of the gory room deafening in her ears. The world around her was a blur through her tears, she couldn’t look, she squeezed her eyes shut against the carnage.
It was at that moment that she felt a shift in the room, a shift in the life in the room, and she stopped breathing for a moment. Her heart pounding in her ears, expecting to hear that sinister grating voice. When she heard a step behind her, she spun around onto her butt, sitting in the blood and death, but it wasn’t the madman who stood behind her, coming to finish her off, instead it was a woman. A woman with flowing black hair and a black aura that surrounded her. She gazed around the room, her own eyes filled with tears, especially when they landed on her father. Then that sorrowful gaze dragged away from his corpse and onto Faroe, who flinched back as though she had been hit. The woman held her hands up in a placating gesture, concern crossing her gaze as she tenderly stepped forward, narrowly avoiding the bodies that lay strewn about the room. She crouched down and stayed a few steps away from Faroe.
“W-who are you?” Faroe stuttered out, her brown dress becoming slick and damp with the blood of her family and friends. The woman looked around again and then stared back at Faroe, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I am Lillith,” she spoke softly, as if her voice alone could break Faroe.
Lillith. She had heard of her; through stories her father had told of her grandparents. She was a god. Faroe placed a shaky hand over her mouth to prevent herself from gasping. She felt her world collapsing from beneath her with every moment. In a matter of a few hours, she had turned eighteen, had her entire family slaughtered, and had met a god. Lillith moved a step closer, and Faroe held out a hand for her to stop.
“No,” she gasped. “don’t come any closer. I—” She cut herself off, her voice breaking.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” Faroe questioned, anger behind her words.
Lilith hesitated. “I loved your family, your father,” Faroe’s brows furrowed. What was this? A god once in love with her father? A family protector? If it was the latter, she hadn’t been very successful, her entire family was dead.
“So?” Faroe bit out. Lillith looked taken aback, as if not expecting the anger, as if only expecting sympathy in response to sympathy. “I don’t care. They’re dead. Do you hear me?” she moved to make herself look more intimidating than she was in her short brown dress. “They’re dead.”
Lillith backed off and then stood up, her height causing Faroe’s confidence to stagger.
“I am not your enemy,” she looked at the corpse of Arthur once more before glancing back. “I am a friend. Your only friend.”
Faroe’s expression softened. She was right. Faroe’s entire handful of friends and family lay strewn dead about her. She had no one. She felt so, so alone. Lillith held out her hand gently. Faroe hesitantly took it and stood up, small in comparison to Lillith.
“I will be here when you need me,” she said, and then vanished into a plume of dark smoke and once again Faroe was left alone.