I found Lilith waiting in the cathedral gardens at dawn, exactly where she'd said she would be. The snow had stopped overnight, leaving the world wrapped in pristine white that seemed almost mocking in its purity.
"You came." Lilith's voice carried no surprise, only quiet satisfaction. "I wasn't sure you would."
"Neither was I." I pulled my coat tighter against the cold, watching my breath mist in the frigid air. "But after last night—the fire in the hearth, the candles... It's getting worse, Lilith."
She studied my face with those pale, calculating eyes that had always seen too much, something I wasn’t admitting out loud.
"I need to see the spaces I'll be replicating. The church, your living quarters, anywhere people might look for evidence of your death."
She moved to stand beside me, her presence surprisingly comforting despite everything she represented.
"My illusions are convincing, but they require a foundation. I need to understand the architecture, the lighting, the details that will make the deception believable."
"And then?"
"And then I stage your death convincingly enough that no one will come looking." She paused. "Fire is the cleanest option. It destroys evidence, provides a logical explanation for why there's no body to examine closely."
My stomach turned at the clinical way she described it, but I nodded. "Fine. Follow me."
I led her through the cathedral's side entrance, the one I'd discovered months ago during my early reconnaissance. The halls were empty at this hour—morning prayers wouldn't begin for another two hours, and most of the clergy were still in their quarters.
"Impressive architecture," Lilith murmured, her fingers trailing along the ancient stone walls. "Gothic revival, late nineteenth century. The Order chose their headquarters well."
We moved through the nave, past the altar where Mikael and I had exchanged vows that were supposed to be lies, past the confessional where I'd first begun to suspect there was more to him than a gentle priest.
Every step felt like walking through a museum of my own memories, each corner holding some moment I'd never get back.
"The apartment is through here." I led her up the narrow staircase to the residential wing, my heart pounding harder with each step. "Mikael will be at morning exercises with the Order members for another hour. We should have time."
The door to our quarters opened silently—I'd learned which hinges squeaked and which didn't, another survival skill I'd picked up without realizing. The space beyond was modest but warm.
Mikael's books stacked on the desk. My borrowed sweaters draped over the chair by the fireplace. Two coffee cups drying on the small kitchen counter, side by side.
"Cozy," Lilith observed, her eyes cataloging every detail with unsettling efficiency. "He keeps it neat for a man. Though I notice most of the personal touches are yours."
"I didn't mean for it to become personal." I moved through the space like a ghost, touching objects I would never touch again. "It was supposed to be strategic."
"And instead you built an actual life." Lilith's voice held no judgment, only observation. "You have his scent on your skin, did you know? You smell like him. Like belonging."
I flinched as if she'd struck me.
"He really does mean something to you." She turned to face me fully, her expression unreadable. "The witch hunter who would destroy you without hesitation if he knew what you were—you've actually fallen in love with him."
"Does it matter?" I forced the words past the tightness in my throat. "In an hour, I'll be dead to him. Whatever I feel becomes irrelevant."
Lilith didn’t answer. Instead, she began moving through the apartment with purpose, her fingers tracing walls and doorframes, her lips moving silently as she memorized the details she would need to recreate.
"I have enough," she said finally. "I can construct illusions convincing enough to fool anyone who isn't looking too closely. The fire will do the rest."
"When?" The word came out barely above a whisper.
"Now."
Without warning, Lilith's hands began weaving patterns in the air. The light bent strangely around us, threads of magic spinning from her fingertips like spider silk catching morning dew.
Her lips moved in silent incantation, and I felt the air pressure shift, felt something ancient and powerful building in the small apartment.
"Wait!" Panic surged through my chest as I realized what was happening. "I haven't… I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone! Sister Agnes, the women at the shelter, Maria and the children…"
"No time." Her voice was clipped, focused, her concentration never wavering from the spell taking shape around us.
"But Mikael…"
"Will grieve." Her expression softened slightly even as her hands continued their deadly dance. "Genuinely, deeply grieve. That's what will make the deception convincing."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand more time, one more conversation, one more chance to see his face without knowing it was the last time. But Lilith was already moving, her hands weaving patterns in the air that made the light bend strangely around us.
"Stand over there." She pointed to the corner near the bedroom door. "I need to anchor the illusion to your last known position. When the fire starts, you need to scream. Loud enough to be heard, desperate enough to be believed. Can you do that?"
"You want me to…" My voice broke. "You want me to make him think I'm burning alive?"
Lilith's magic was building now, threads of light weaving through the air, creating patterns I couldn't quite follow.
"He can't save you from what's awakening inside you, Rowan. The only thing he can do is die trying. Is that what you want?"
"No." The word was barely audible.
"Then scream when I tell you to. Let him hear you suffer so he never has to watch you actually die."
The first tendrils of smoke began curling from nowhere, illusion made manifest. Lilith's power filled the room with the smell of burning wood, the crackle of flames that weren't real but looked devastating enough to fool anyone watching.
Through the walls, I heard shouts. Running footsteps. The deep toll of the alarm bell that meant fire in the residential wing.
"Now," Lilith commanded.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat had closed around the sound, refusing to participate in this final cruelty.
"Rowan." Lilith's voice was sharp. "They're coming. If they find you alive in here, everything falls apart. Scream."
The door shuddered. Someone was trying to force it open from the outside.
"Wren!" Mikael's voice, raw with terror. "Wren, are you in there? Answer me!"
Something shattered inside my chest at the sound of his desperation. The man who'd saved me, sheltered me, loved me without knowing what I really was—he was out there believing I was burning to death, and I was supposed to make it worse.
"I can't," I whispered. "Lilith, I can't do this to him."
"You have to." She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in with bruising force. "Listen to me. You love him? Then protect him. Give him a clean death to grieve instead of a witch to hunt. Let him remember you as the woman he loved, not the monster he had to destroy."
The door buckled again. I could hear Mikael throwing his full weight against it, heard the wood beginning to splinter.
"Wren! God, please—someone get water! Get something to break this down!"
"Now, Rowan. Before he gets through and sees you standing here perfectly fine while his world burns."
I screamed. It wasn't acting—It was every piece of grief I'd been holding back, every ounce of love I couldn't express, every desperate wish for a different ending that would never come.
I screamed like I was dying because part of me was—the part that had dared to believe I could have something real, something lasting, something worth staying for.
Through the chaos of smoke and illusion, I heard Mikael's response—an anguished cry that would haunt me for the rest of my life, however long that turned out to be.
"That's enough." Lilith's arms wrapped around me, pulling me toward the window. "The illusion will hold long enough for us to get clear. By the time they break through, there will be nothing left but ash and devastation."
She pulled me onto the ledge, and the world shifted around us. One moment we were three stories up with snow-covered ground far below; the next, we were standing in an alley two blocks away, hidden in shadows that seemed to bend around us like living things.
Behind us, the cathedral's alarm bells continued to toll. I could see smoke rising from the residential wing—illusory smoke, but it looked real enough to draw every eye in the building.
"Don't look back," Lilith said quietly, steering me away from the only home I'd ever chosen for myself. "It only makes it harder."
But I did look back. Just once.
I saw Mikael burst through the shattered door into our apartment, saw him disappear into smoke and illusion searching for a woman who was already gone.
Saw him emerge moments later, face blackened with ash, carrying something in his arms that made the gathered crowd gasp and turn away.
Whatever Lilith's magic had left behind, it was convincing enough to break him.
I watched the man I loved collapse to his knees in the snow, clutching the remains of a lie, and I let my sister lead me away into the gray winter morning.
The medallion with our carved initials pressed cold against my chest, hidden beneath my coat.
I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind.