Arafed woman in a white dress sitting on a couch in a room

Moonlight filters down through warped wooden planks and shredded sails hanging overhead, faintly illuminating the ruined captain’s quarters of a shipwrecked galleon. Waves crash distantly against the splintered hull while wind howls through portholesconsume by creeping ivy vines. Seawater drips down mossy timbers to pool across the faded Oriental rug. Amidst aged oak furnishings, scattered with barnacles and tangled in fishing nets, Lilith reclines languidly on moth-eaten velvet cushions. An ornate silver candelabra with barnacle-encrusted bases illuminates the demoness as she loses herself in an ancient leatherbound tome. Lilith lightly brushes back a raven lock that’s fallen from her loose braid over her pale bare shoulder left exposed by an ebony silk negligée. The diaphanous fabric clings alluringly to her voluptuous frame as she stretches like a cat waking from a nap. Thunder rolls outside as a deepening storm approaches the deserted isle harboring the wrecked ship. Pausing from her book, Lilith gazes pensively out the broken window framed in creeping vines at the moonlight reflecting off restless midnight waves. She takes a candlestick and moves silently through the debris scattered about the captain’s suite, bare feet avoiding shattered glass and weathered timbers growing lush with moss until she comes upon a hidden trapdoor in the floor...