CHAPTER 3: THE DEMON’S VISIT TO THE WAKING WORLD

It seemed like an ordinary day—at least, that’s what Claribel thought.

She was sitting on the couch with a doll in her hand and the TV on, though she wasn’t really paying attention to the talking man on the screen.

Her mother kept coming in and out of the room, a constant worry clouding her face, while her father spoke quietly with a man in a white coat.

Claribel adjusted herself on the couch, hugging her doll a little tighter, unaware that the demon, like a shadow, was watching from the corner of the room.

He was there, invisible to the adults—but not to her.

There was always something in the air that shifted when he was near. A stillness. Something different.

The demon watched her as the doctors spoke in hushed voices about her condition.

Her mother looked exhausted, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Her father remained silent, nodding occasionally, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“What we’re trying to say, ma’am…” the doctor began, taking a breath, as if the weight of the words he carried was too much, “is that your daughter’s condition is irreversible.

We’ve reviewed all the tests. Claribel won’t live past the age of five.”

The words landed like a blow.

The demon, though no stranger to suffering, felt the gravity of what had just been said.

Claribel’s mother let her hands drop to her sides, her body losing the strength to even hold itself upright.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Hope was vanishing as she spoke.

“There’s really nothing else we can do?”

The doctor looked at them with an expression that wasn’t meant to be cruel—but was.

He knew his words would mark a before and after.

“I’m very sorry. We can’t change the nature of the illness.

All we can do is keep her comfortable for the time she has left.”

Claribel didn’t understand everything being said, but the heaviness in the room told her enough.

She got up and, as if led by something unspoken, walked toward the living room—where she saw her mother holding her father’s hand.

From the shadows, the demon watched, his expression different this time.

For once, he wasn’t just a witness.

Inside, something unfamiliar stirred: sorrow… and compassion.

Feelings he rarely experienced for souls passing through his realm.

Was this really the place she was meant to leave behind?

Claribel’s mother bent down and embraced her with more strength than usual, as if trying to memorize every breath, every moment.

“Mama?” Claribel asked, looking at her with curiosity.

“Why are you sad?”

Her mother swallowed hard, trying to force a smile.

“I’m not sad, Clari. Just worried—because I love you so much.”

The demon couldn’t help but watch how the girl smiled—not fully understanding, yet somehow sensing that her mother’s sadness was a kind of love too deep to hide.

“Don’t worry, mama. I’m okay,” Claribel said, giving her a small kiss on the cheek.

The demon quietly stepped back, floating like a breeze that didn’t want to interrupt something so tender.

Though he couldn’t touch the world of the living, he could see the emotions that passed between gestures, glances, and silence.

And he understood—perhaps for the first time—that the girl no longer needed explanations about death.

She already knew it.

She had accepted it in a way most adults never could.

What she needed now was time.

Time to live what remained.

And freedom to leave when her body could no longer carry her.

“Don’t worry, little one,” the demon whispered so softly only he could hear.

“I’ll help you find peace… even if that means becoming something more human than I ever thought possible.”