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This wasn’t something I could force her to do. She needed to want this on her own, and I had never felt more helpless.
I felt sick at the fact that the person I loved more than anything in the world hated that she cared about me… and I had no one to blame but my fucking self.
“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” she whispered. “The only thing I’m afraid of, Lilith, is losing you.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her hair, memorizing the feel of her body against me and mapping the scent of her skin. “I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but please stay. Please stay here with me,”
I couldn’t speak. I was worried that if I did, I would completely shatter. So, instead, I just held onto her, praying that she was telling me the truth and I would never have to worry about surviving a day without her in my arms again.
Ramel, after Lilith says she'll stay with him
“I’ve missed you so much that sometimes I am grateful that Yahweh gave me a thousand years without your memory because I don’t know that I would have survived that long without you by my side.”
I had not lost myself. I had only grown to be more.
I was Lilith, the Goddess of Death and Decay. Even at my weakest, I was more than this spineless male would ever be.
“You’ll be alright without me, deathtrap,” he said, his voice low and full of regret. He ran his thumb over my lips tenderly. “At least this way, I won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”
“Don’t you fucking say that to me!” I snarled. “You promised me forever.”
“I will never stop loving you, even if there’s nothing left of me for you to love back.”
“Please,” I begged him, my voice barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave me. Everyone always leaves me…” I sobbed, and Ramel’s eyes fluttered again. “I’ll always be with you, deathtrap. I couldn’t leave you, even if I tried.”
Even if I couldn’t get him back in his body, there was something amusing about the fact that his stubborn ass seemed determined to continue to stalk her, even in death.
‘Here lies Jezebel, the embodiment of Hell’s fury and a true friend of Death. May she live on for eternity in our memory.’
Born ‘neath the moon in Witchwood’s embrace, A mortal vessel, a sacred space. Creation’s angel seeks to unravel fate, While Hecate hides in a mortal state. Emerging from Hell, seeking flesh and bone, Chaos explores realms unknown In a place once familiar, the search takes flight, To unveil Hecate’s mortal plight. God of Wrath, with vengeance ablaze, Joins hands with creation, in a darkened haze. Against Witchwood’s magic, they conspire, A plot to consume, and burn like fire. But with Chaos’ whiskers and raven’s wing, Bloodlines are summoned, and the witches sing. Bishop, Good, and Nurse’s kin,
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