The first time I met death, I saw its face before I even saw the face of the midwife, my mother, my father. My death defined my entire life. It was my beginning and my only end. For fifteen years, death had
hovered with its grip near my throat—so close and yet never able to touch me.
Well, it had me now, and its grip was fierce. It choked the life from me in a single ruthless sweep.
Death’s home was a field of blackened flowers.
You have been on your way here, it whispered, for a long, long time.
“Lilith. Lilith.”
Someone was calling my name. A familiar voice—a face I wanted to turn to see. I blinked. It was hard. I saw a clearing sky.
I blinked again.
A face.
Two faces.
Mina, my sister, her eyes brighter than they had been in a long time. Her tears were warm against my cheek.
I opened my mouth, a sudden wave of words rising in my throat—a lifetime of words I had never known how to say to her, a lifetime of affection I didn’t know how to offer her. But I couldn’t speak, my breath wet and burning, producing only iron-sweet bubbles at my lips.
I blinked.
Death’s home was a field of flowers. A destination I had come to terms with—a path I was fifteen years late in traveling. Death walked beside me.
You seem sad to go, it said.
I stopped walking.
It was right, I realized. I was sad to go.
In another world, a gentle touch turned my face. My eyes opened with great, impossible effort.
Vale leaned over me. His hand gripped mine so tight I could feel it in the next world. Maybe that made sense. Vale, like me, straddled both life and death.
And the scorched rose grasped between us was withering now, just like
me.
Vale’s eyes said, Stay, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to. I
wanted to stay so badly I would die for it.
I tried to speak, tried to tell him—
He murmured, “Do you want to live, Lilith?”
I blinked and almost couldn’t open my eyes again.
Death’s home was a field of flowers, and someone was pulling my hand, but I wouldn’t go—
Vale’s voice, again, more frantic: “Lilith, do you want this?”
And I knew what he was offering me. I knew that he would accept whatever answer I gave him.
Death stopped. Turned back to me.
For a moment, I stood between them both. Vale, and death.
Do you want this?
I forced my eyes open.
“Quickly, Lilith.” Vale’s voice was urgent, rough with almost-tears. “Do you want this?”
I wanted life.
I wanted time.
“Yes,” I choked, as death grabbed my hand.
I felt a sharp pain at my throat as the scent of dead roses overwhelmed
me.
Somewhere in a world far away, my body writhed, lungs fighting for
another gulp of air.
I balked. Death tightened its hold on me.
You have waited for this for so long, it told me, frustrated.
Something hot filled my mouth, pooled in my throat. Sweet, with a bitter bite.
I choked on it, sputtered.
“Drink,” a familiar voice commanded—begged.
Muscles that I barely controlled swallowed. Death tasted like rose petals. It dribbled down my chin, pooling in dusty earth.
Death’s empty eyes stared at me, its hand clutching mine.
I want to stay, I said.
You can’t.
I need to stay.
I yanked my hand away from death’s grip. Turned away from the field of flowers.
And I drew in a great gasp of air.
Vale held me tight to his chest, cradled in his arms, forehead to mine.
There were tears in his eyes and blood on his lips. “I want to stay,” I choked out.
“I know,” he whispered, as his mouth lowered to mine, and I faded away there in his arms, surrounded by withering roses.
