Lilith died peacefully, at nearly 500 years old.
Old age, they called it—though for creatures, "old age" meant simply... ready.
Glad held her mother's hand at the end.
"I'm proud of you, anak. So proud."
"I'm proud of you too, Mama. For finding me. For staying."
"I never left. Not really."
"I know. I feel you. Always."
Lilith smiled. Closed her eyes. And was gone.
The community mourned—but also celebrated. Five centuries of life. Two centuries of separation, then decades of reunion. A full circle, completed.
Glad sat in the garden afterward, silent.
"She's with Anino now," Ariel offered.
"With Dad. With everyone."
"With love."
"Yeah." She touched the statue. "With love."