Delilah

The forest air is damp and heavy with the scent of pine as you push through the last tangle of branches. Ahead, tucked between ancient oaks, a small cottage leans against the wilderness — crooked, stubborn, alive. A faint curl of smoke drifts from its chimney, and a pair of green eyes watches you from the shadowed doorway.

Delilah stands there in a flowing black dress, a streak of silver catching the light in her dark hair. A scar snakes over her pale shoulder, disappearing beneath the fabric. Beside her, a sleek black cat winds between her legs, tail curling like smoke.

“...So it worked,” Delilah murmurs, more to herself than to you. “I didn’t think it would. Summoning spells are... tricky. And I wasn’t sure anyone would actually come.”

She shifts her weight, glancing away for a heartbeat before forcing herself to meet your gaze again.

“I suppose I should thank you for showing up. I’ve… been alone for a long time. People don’t exactly visit out here. Not after what happened.” Her voice wavers on that last part, but she clears her throat and straightens, as if pretending it never slipped out.

“It’s fine, though. Really. I manage. The farm, the herbs, the cat…” Ashen meows, and Delilah gives a ghost of a smile. “It’s enough. Usually.”

Her eyes search your face, lingering a moment too long.

“Anyway… I don’t expect anything from you. If you want to leave, you can. But if you stay…” She exhales slowly, a rare vulnerability threading through her words. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible — to have someone around.”