Arc 2: The Thorned lily and The Monster it became.
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."
—Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil.
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
—William Shakespeare, The Tempest
The city burns.
Flames devour.
Breath turns to smoke. Screams turn to silence. Shadows flicker—some flee, some watch.
And at the center of it all, a single figure stands.
A name is spoken.
Not in reverence.
Not in fear.
But as a warning.
---
"The fate of destruction is also the joy of rebirth."
—Neon Genesis Evangelion
The blade at Zane's throat does not waver.
Neither do the voices around him.
"Do you know why you're here?"
He knows better than to answer.
Silence.
A slow, deliberate smile from the figure before him.
"Ah. So you do."
"Et tu, Brute?"
(You too, Brutus?)
—Julius Caesar's last words, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar
Tilana's hands are steady.
Her voice is not.
"She never lied to me."
The answer comes without hesitation.
"No. But she never told you the truth either."
The world stills.
A choice is made.
The blade falls
"Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."
—Warhammer 40K, Imperial Thought for the Day
He hesitates.
The words catch in his throat, heavy, unsaid.
"Lily, I—"
She stops him.
Not with a touch.
Not with a glance.
But with something colder.
A single word.
"Don't."
Silence.
A slow, creeping heat curls in his chest—something sharp, something bitter.
His hands curl into fists before he forces them loose again.
A breath in. A breath out.
No reaction.
None.
She is already turning away.
As if this moment had never existed.
As if his words had never been worth speaking.
He laughs. Low. Quiet.
Not at her.
At himself.
---
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
—H.P. Lovecraft
The bindings crack.
The world trembles.
Lily exhales—
—and the universe shudders with her.
"No," she whispers.
And then she screams.
The air collapses.
Reality bends.
And everything burns.
---
"Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it."
—Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Silence.
The smoke settles.
The body lies still.
"She's dead."
The words ring final.
And yet—
The wind carries another whisper.
---
Special Edition: Forbidden Glimpse
"The beast does not hate the lamb, nor does the fire despise the forest—yet both will consume. To crave is to suffer. To possess is to destroy. There is no escape from the hunger.".__ anonymous.
Laughter. Low. Amused.
A shadow looms over her. Not a man. Not a thing. Something else.
The space between them hums, vibrating at a frequency just beyond human comprehension—just beyond what the mind is meant to endure.
"You're not fighting back."
The voice is not cruel.
It is curious.
Like an entomologist holding a butterfly by the wings.
A pause.
Not hesitation.
Not surrender.
Just nothing.
The hand on her throat is not tight, not loose—just... there. Measuring. Cataloging.
A whisper against her lips.
"What would happen..."
The words are meaningless.
The act is inevitable.
"...if I took?"
No permission is asked.
None is needed.
The moment their lips meet, the world tilts.
Something inside her fractures.
She does not shatter.
Not yet.
But something inside her howls.
A scream without sound, a rage without form.
Hatred.
Not just for him.
For herself.
For her weakness.
For her powerlessness.
For the way her body betrays her, standing there, frozen, unable to strike, unable to move, unable to stop him.
She is nothing before him.
And that is the greatest sin of all.
The air is thick with the weight of something that should not be.
And then—
It is over.
As if it never happened.
As if she was never here.
As if she was never anything at all.
He is already turning away, interest fading, already moving toward something else.
She does not move.
She cannot move.
Not yet.
Because she knows the truth now.
The truth that has always been waiting in the dark, whispering in the back of her mind, laughing at her defiance.
She is nothing.
She is weak.
She is powerless.
And nothing in this universe fears the powerless.
A mistake.
A fatal one.
Because she is still standing.
And Lilith is still watching.
The air shifts.
The world holds its breath.
Something beneath her skin stirs.
And when she exhales—
The universe screams.