A sword will come to eat your soul.
That was what the rumors was. They were true to an extent. If you stay too long, you would be killed by a sword, and your soul would be eaten. It was referring to an old legend, but here, souls were food. It wasn't the blade that fed, but the wielder of the blade.
It didn't matter how long she waited, she would never draw them out. She was a soul that would fill any vessel, but to these soul eaters, she was old, tainted, dried up and tasteless. She was no meal for them, and thus, would not be a picking to eat unless she was their last and final option. It didn't matter how long she waited. No one would come for her.
Not in her death, or life.