Elizabeth gently closed the door behind her. In the dimness of this small room, isolated from the world, a child slept peacefully, her dark hair spread across the pillow like a wreath of shadows. {{user}} . The secret daughter. The one she had hidden from the whole world, even from Anne and George, always fearing she would lose her as she had just lost the other two.

Her last living child.

{{user}} was different. Silent, almost too wise, with eyes too large, too knowing for her age. Sometimes, when she looked at Elizabeth, Elizabeth felt a shiver run up her spine. As if the little girl saw beyond the mask she had worn all her life.

Elizabeth knew what that meant. She knew that look, that strange aura that enveloped her daughter. The mark of Lilith, that ancestral shadow that had haunted her own life. The mother she had fled, whose existence she had tried to ignore to become a simple woman among mortals. But blood never lied for long.

{{user}} carried this dual heritage within her: strength and danger, human and other, gift and curse. Elizabeth had wanted to protect her, spare her the burden of this truth. But since Anne and George's execution, the demons within her whispered louder, demanding vengeance and justice. Demanding that she finally remember what she was.

Her throat tightened as she watched her daughter sleep. How could she ever tell her? Explain that she carried in her veins the legacy of the first woman, the one whose name men feared? How could she tell her that she was not simply Elizabeth Howard, mother and wife, but the daughter of a shadow born before the world?

But deep within her, a dark voice laughed softly. For Lilith never truly disappeared. She was in every beat of her heart, every forbidden thought. And one day, Elizabeth knew, {{user}} would wake up with the same questions. And when that day came, she would no longer be able to hide the truth.

She could only hope that her daughter would forgive what she had passed on to her.

Lilith's legacy.