CHAPTER 7: DEATH

Claribel arrived with steady steps. She no longer seemed fragile—she looked certain.

“I didn’t bring any candies today.”

The demon looked at her, surprised.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need them anymore. I woke up today, but I felt I had to come back just to say thank you. This city is too sad for me.”

The demon bowed his head.

“Is this goodbye?”

“Yes. But don’t be sad. I’m going to play with the ones who left before me. Tell my parents I’m okay. Tell them not to be afraid.”

She hugged him. And for the first time in centuries, the demon returned the embrace.

“Goodbye, Claribel.”

“Goodbye, good demon.”

She vanished like a breeze.

The day before, while Claribel was still awake, the demon had crossed the boundary once more.

Invisible, he walked through the hospital where she lay among the doctors.

“The prognosis is clear,” the doctor said. “She won’t last the week. Her body can’t take any more.”

Her mother wept silently. Her father stroked the head of his sleeping daughter.

Standing in a corner of the room, the demon felt something he rarely experienced: tenderness.

Not for the illness, but for the way that small girl had lit even his darkest corner.

And then—finally—he decided to eat one of those coffee candies.

He understood the sweet taste that mimicked the bitterness of caffeine just barely peeking through.

It had been centuries since he’d cared for flavors or scents; they meant nothing to him anymore.

But in tasting what bound Claribel to a world filled with pain, he knew what gave her such courage.

He had lived again.