Sepphirothy opened the hidden gate to her private territory in the underworld. It was an isolated house, built far from any demonic city. No ordinary demon knew of the existence of that place. Layers of barriers, seals, and runes protected everything, invisible but active at all times.
She entered carrying Lilith in her arms, as if she were a princess. Lilith's body was weak, bruised, and unresponsive. Her breathing was shallow. Her skin, pale. Her eyes closed. She still seemed more dead than alive.
Sepphirothy said nothing. She simply walked straight down the main corridor.
Neberius followed closely behind. Silently. Without daring to ask anything. She only observed how Sepphirothy held Lilith: firmly, carefully, but with a kind of tension that made it clear she didn't want to be contradicted.
The house was simple. Few pieces of furniture, everything organized. No unnecessary decoration. It was a place made for rest, not for visits.
