The sky was paling faintly by the time Amber returned to the inn. The hunt had stretched long into the night, the last of the blood still warm in her veins. Her steps were silent as always, boots whispering against the wooden floorboards of the creaky stairwell. She slipped the key into the door, turned it carefully, and entered.
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the last flicker of the bedside candle. Lilith slept soundly on the bed, her chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of dreamless rest. A strand of silver hair had fallen across her face, catching what little light there was. She looked peaceful, untouched by the violence outside these walls.
