The Oathtaker turned the handle. “It’s not locked!” she whispered. She opened the door slowly, and stepped inside, cautioning Therese not to enter as yet.
She created a flare in the palm of her hand, then used it to light the candles sitting on a nearby table. Once done, she turned it out before ushering her charge inside.
As the candlelight grew, the particulars of Lilith’s room became evident. Walls of deep carmine red seemed to ooze like blood as the light flickered on them and danced over a jumble of items littering the floor, the tabletops, the dressing table, and the bed.
The two stood, contemplating the bedlam before them. Hairpieces hung from candelabras and lamps. Clothing, piled in corners and strewn about, served as nesting for mice. Bottles and jars of creams and powders and perfumes and pastes jostled for position on the tabletops.
“Nothing has changed in all these years,” Basha said as she picked up a shard of glass from a broken bottle, the contents of which had long since spilled, and then dissipated. Piles of books sat open, their pages torn. Hats and shoes and gloves and hairpins and jewelry were scattered and strewn about.
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