It met her

Me too

Four uneventful days have passed. The storm continues to rage, Eustace and Monika continue to act cold towards each other, Cerulean and Leviathan continue to play baby sitter to Sylvia and Sonnet - Cerulean seeming to enjoy the position more than his brother and Asmodi continues to watch Elizabeth's unconscious body.
Four days she's laid there on the cold floor, her blood had dried into the ground and thanks to his abilities her wound had become nothing but a blackish redish scar of scales that lay vertically on her stomach. Even though his intentions weren't to let her die, there was a delay in the healing process due to him considering it. He wasn't only observing her physical body; he was also invading her mind, watching her dreams. Interesting as they were they didn't reveal to him any of the mysteries surrounding this girl. It did reveal, however, two things about her personality; one, She's boring and two; She's even more disconnected to this world than he'd originally thought.
The first two dreams were just hours of her sitting in a field, writing in her book. Yet, regardless of the fact that her pen had ink and made contact with the paper nothing appeared on the page. Still she'd keep going, writing as if her life depended on it. She'd made more facial expressions writing than she'd shown since coming here; most of them sad, pained or nervous. Those were expressions that hadn't even crossed her face that very first time he'd witness her attempt suicide.
The third day, her dream took a more eventful turn. She had finally closed the book and began walking towards a sea that materialized in a way only capable in dreams. She stood at the shore looking out. After hours of her standing there she suddenly bent down and with the pen she'd been writing with, began drawing in the sand. No matter how much time passed, those lines she made in the sand produced neither an image nor words. Just scribbles resembling that of a child's masterpiece. Not long after a faceless body materialized in the ocean and slowly swept ashore. This was followed by another and another, their blood tainting the water's crystal color pink with gore. She never looked at them though, even when they were swept up inches from where she was drawing. She didn't even acknowledge the foul smell her brain created to accompany the image of death surrounding her.
The bodies never stopped floating in, they piled up meters high upon the shore but never made contact with Elizabeth nor the theme less drawing. Mounds and hills of flesh and limbs surrounding the girl who seemed no different from a corpse herself. When it got to a point where neither land nor sea was visible, only death, she stood up and began walking. Dropping her pen, she stepped on the drawing and the bodies as if it was the most natural thing on earth. The squish and splatter beneath her feet was a wretched sound but she remained straight faced as she walked a straight line. Her pace never quickened but the environment she travelled through blurred by at an impressive speed. The scenery changed from the tainted beach, to a vast field, to human villages, to a humid swamp, to a vast ocean, a prospering forest and finally the mountain that housed three dragons. What seemed like it should have been a years journey was condensed to a few minutes of rhythmic walking that led to where she lay now.
He watched as her eyes slowly opened. She blinked twice before turning her eyes to him, eyes that held an almost unnoticeable redder tint than before. He didn't know what alarmed him more; the horrors of her dream or the fact that the path she walked in her dreams were the correct path from a coordinate half way across the continent. She spoke with a weak voice.
"I hope the storm ends soon." There was no terror in her eyes from the dream; it was as though none of it had happened. The dream hadn't shocked him; he'd seen worse in all his years alive watching and joining wars but her nonchalant reaction to it, as a human being, was surprising to him. She looked at him, waiting in silence as if inviting a response to her conversational prompt but when a response never came she tilted her head to face the ceiling again and continued. "When that time comes, will you let me leave?"
He kept his eyes on her.

"You are surprisingly entertaining so I have no intention of breaking the hold I have on you." He began retreating further into the dark room and coiling into himself.
"Does that mean you'll keep me here." She asked, sitting up. Finally seeing the tear in her shirt and exposed scar beneath but not asking about it.
"Leave if you please, no matter how far you go I will always be able to watch because of the contract we've made." He settled into his position.
"I'll keep that in mind when I go to the bathroom." She stood up and began touching and picking at her scar, she recognized the scales to be his. "Can I ask you some questions?" She asked setting up her things, this time he didn't protest.
"Not right now, I'm tired." He stated, now looking like a ball of scales.
She settled inside her blankets, her book under her pillow. She closed her eyes, oddly enough she felt tired despite being in some sort of dead alive state for so long.
"One question." He said after a few heartbeats of silence.
Elizabeth thought for a while, despite usually being indifferent to everything, she had so many questions swarming inside her head. While most people would've picked the important questions, she looked to ask the one that might produce the quickest answer.
She couldn't see his face but she felt his impatience. Something told her he didn't submit to others requests often and being kept waiting felt like an insult.
"Asmodi, have you killed humans before?" She asked, not surprised by the immediate 'yes' he gave her. She paused "...me...too."