Lilith opened the door of the shop.
The sound faded into the empty interior.
She locked it.
She walked to the wooden counter. Tossed her bag onto the surface. She didn't stop to look. Didn't take off the light blue dress or the white-ribboned hat.
She went up the stairs. Her heels marked a constant, dry rhythm.
She went straight to the master's room.
She opened the door. The smell of rancid oils and stale sweat greeted her. She frowned.
She moved to the desk. It was covered with Eugenio's papers. Useless formulas. Soap recipes. Notes on sales that no longer mattered.
She took a wooden bucket from a corner. Placed it next to the table.
She reached out.
Swept the entire desk in one motion.
Inkwells, quills, parchments, glass flasks. Everything fell into the bucket. Glass shattered. Black ink stained the wood at the bottom.
She cleared the table.
She placed the book she had taken from the library in the center. The Manual for the Creation of Life.
She opened it.
The pages were thick. They smelled of old dust. Of confinement. She turned the leaves. Her dark eyes traced the red lines and circular diagrams.
She stopped at a central illustration. It spanned two pages.
Homunculology.
A thick glass flask. Inside, drawn with precise strokes, a fetus. Half-formed muscles. Closed eyes. A dense liquid surrounded it. Tubes and valves connected the flask to alchemical machinery.
Lilith laughed. A short laugh.
"Nonsense."
She ran a finger along the edge of the drawing.
"How would they transfer it?" she whispered to the air. "From a living being into cold glass?"
She touched the drawing of the fetus.
"That's lethal."
She slammed the book shut. The sound echoed off the walls of the room.
Life didn't work that way. You couldn't create life from nothing or in an inert container. Life rejected emptiness. Rejected glass. It needed warmth. Blood. Heartbeats.
It must be sheltered in another being. In a real container.
She rose from the chair.
She looked out the window. The stars were already appearing over the capital. The streetlamps were beginning to light.
She blew out the candle. Went to sleep.
---
The next morning was noisy.
Lilith walked through the western sector of the capital. The animal market.
The ground was packed earth. It smelled of manure, damp straw, and meat. Pigs squealed in their pens. Horses neighed, tied to posts. People passed by carrying cages and bales of hay.
She walked slowly.
She stopped in front of a wide pen.
There were goats. Black, spotted, white. Some were eating. Others banged their heads against the wood.
A merchant approached the fence. He was a fat man. His face shiny with sweat. A leather apron stained with old blood covered his stomach.
He looked her up and down. A crooked smile formed under his thin mustache.
"You're lost, little girl," the man said. "The silk market is three streets from here. Go back before you dirty your shoes."
Lilith didn't look at him. She kept watching the animals.
"I want one."
The man let out a loud laugh. Some nearby shoppers turned to look.
"A goat?" he mocked, leaning his elbows on the fence. "These beasts are for the slaughterhouse. They're not pets for you to put bows on, princess. It'll eat the fabric of your dress before you even get to your mansion."
Lilith pointed a finger.
"That one. The black one."
The merchant crossed his arms. The smile didn't disappear.
"That one costs three silver coins. If you can afford it, of course."
Lilith looked at him. Her eyes darkened for an instant. The tone of her voice didn't change, but she lowered its volume.
"That goat limps on its left hind leg. Its right eye is cloudy. Its coat has no shine."
The merchant wiped the smile away. He spat out the twig he was chewing.
"What would you know about livestock?"
"I know that if you send it to the slaughterhouse today, they'll give you five copper coins. And if you leave it one more day, it will die and you'll have to pay to have the carcass burned."
The man took a step toward her. His face reddened.
"Get out of here. I don't have time for a little girl playing shopping games. Three silver or no deal."
Lilith didn't flinch.
She reached into her bag. Took out the three coins.
The man almost ran into the pen.
He took a thick rope. Tied it around the black goat's neck. Pulled it carelessly. Came out of the pen and stood in front of Lilith.
He snatched the coins from her fingers.
He pushed the rope into her hand.
"Take it."
Lilith adjusted the rope in her hand. Her smile returned. Radiant. Flawless.
"Have good sales."
She turned around. Pulled the rope.
---
She walked through the streets of the capital.
The goat bleated occasionally. The animal's hooves echoed rhythmically against the stone. Passersby stepped aside. A highborn young lady parading a dying goat through the city center wasn't an everyday sight.
She arrived at the perfumery.
She didn't enter through the main door. She went around the building. Went to the side alley. Pushed open the worn wooden gate that led to the back garden.
She entered.
The garden was empty. The ground was damp. Some weeds grew in the corners.
She went straight to the back. To the small shed where they kept the firewood.
She stopped in front of the rotten structure. The thatched roof sagged. The beams were moth-eaten.
She took the sturdiest planks.
She drove them into the ground with kicks from her shoes. Formed a square. A small makeshift pen.
Right on top of the disturbed earth.
Right on top of Eugenio's corpse.
She took the goat's rope. Pulled it until it entered the new pen. Tied the rope to the main post.
The goat sniffed the air. Lowered its head. Began to chew the grass shoots sprouting from the soft earth.
Lilith leaned on the wood.
She watched it.
Her lips curved upward. A silent smile. Slow.
The animal's molars ground the grass.
She turned around. Walked toward the back door of the shop.
She went straight up to her room.
---
She sat in front of the closed window.
She took a quill.
She brought it to her lips. Not to write.
She began to bite the tip of the quill. The sound of cartilage cracking slightly between her teeth filled the silent room. Her eyes stared into the void.
*It won't work just like that.*
*An animal is a simple structure. It is born, eats, sleeps, and dies.*
She bit harder. The quill splintered a little.
*I have to corrupt its nature. Tear its essence apart to make room for the seed.*
She put the quill down on the table.
That was the problem.
Corrupting flesh that way wasn't a silent spell. It wasn't like moving a glass or disintegrating a man on an empty road. Modifying the laws of life generated friction. Raw magic. A shock to reality that emitted a black aura. An unbearable weight in the air.
Lilith turned her face toward the window.
In the distance, above the rooftops of the houses, the golden spires of the cathedrals were visible. The sun reflected the wealth of the church of Aldric Thorn.
*The church will notice.*
She crossed her arms. Her heel began to tap the wooden floor. One beat per second.
She remembered Rosmel's execution. Remembered the hysteria of the crowd and the flash of blue light.
If she started the corruption process here, in the garden of a perfumery in the heart of the capital, the aura would spread like black smoke in a white room. The clerics of the city would feel it in their bones. The white-armored guards would be breaking down her shop door before the goat finished mutating.
The tapping of her heel stopped.
*I can't do it here.*
She got up from the chair. Walked around the room. The bed. The wall. The wardrobe.
*I need an isolated place. Off the radar of the faith.*
She sighed, irritated.
She had to go out searching again. An isolated place for her experiment.