MysticAmy

"Why are you wearing cow head mask? Lilith asks you this question the third time."

Amon groaned, tipping his head up. It made the snout of his mask point at the sky, making Lilith giggle as she found the view funny. 

"It's weird. Lilith thinks you're ugly that's why you're hiding your face."

Hearing this, Amon couldn't help but look at her through his mask. If only he wasn't wearing it, Lilith would see how he arched a brow at her statement as he didn't like what she said. 

"You said it's rude for people to be ignored. Aren't you being rude for making such a remark?"

"Oh!"

Lilith gasped, making her cuter as she immediately touched her mouth with both of her hands in an attempt to shut herself up. The little girl spoke again, her voice heard even though she talked softly. 

"Lilith didn't mean to... Lilith is sorry. But Lilith was honest. Doesn't that make Lilith a good girl?"

***

Amon, the Grim Reaper, appeared in the mortal realm to fulfill his job in collecting the souls of the dead. However, an unusual event occurred when he was about to collect one dying pregnant woman's soul.

She was giving birth right before she died, making Amon panic and worry as her dying wish was for him to save her child!

With the Grim Reaper actually a softie and is willing to take care of the infant despite the rule of their job to not interfere in mortal affairs, what lies ahead for Death and his now-growing human, Lilith?

***

"Why do you wear that?"

"19 years have passed—" Amon started, "—and this is still what you want to ask about?"

"Well, yes." Lilith grinned.

---

WARNING: Some chapters of this story contain mature R-18 content. 

FUN FACT: The world here is connected to "The Soul Eater's Possession" story's world, but this can also be a stand-alone book. 

COVER ARTIST: Haryu

WSA ENTRY 2022

Update Schedule: 1 chapter every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday 6PM GMT+8. 

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Death's Lover

The moon cast a pale glow over the forest as Gregory carried Sicily into the hidden cabin, its wooden walls weathered but sturdy.

The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood that clung to Sicily's wounds.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, his every movement deliberate and careful, and laid her gently on an old cot in the corner.

The cabin was a relic of an earlier time, abandoned but functional. Dust motes swirled in the dim light filtering through cracks in the wooden walls. It was a far cry from the safety of the mansion, but it would have to do.

"You'll be alright," Gregory murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was anything but. He pulled a first-aid kit from a nearby shelf, his hands working swiftly to clean and dress Sicily's wounds.

No Matter the Cost