The message came without a name.
Just a folded note tucked into her locker between chemistry and lunch.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded it.
> "You were never meant to forget."
"Look for the silver-eyed woman near the banyan."
"We've been waiting."
No signature. No symbol.
Just ink and truth.
---
🌳 After School — The Banyan Tree
It stood behind the old school garden, a place most students ignored. Twisted roots, hanging vines, and a stillness that never matched the rest of the world.
She waited.
No one came.
Then she turned — and the woman was already there.
Old. Draped in plain white. Skin weathered like parchment. Eyes: pale silver, glowing faintly like moonlight.
> "You glow too, child," she said softly. "Just not bright enough… yet."
Isha stepped back. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled — but it held no warmth.
> "Not who. What.
I am the echo of a vow you once made.
A witness to your first flame.
I have seen your rise.
And your ruin."
Isha's mouth went dry. "You're not real."
"I'm more real than the masks they've put on your friends. On your family. Even on your reflection."
Silence.
> "Do you remember the dagger?" the woman asked.
"Yes."
> "Do you remember the fire it came from?"
"…No."
"Good. You're not ready. Not yet."
She turned to leave.
"Wait!"
The woman paused. "We've protected your soul since before your first death. But protection comes at a cost. The seals are failing. And they will come for you — the others."
"Who are 'they'?"
She gave no answer — only a warning:
> "Your name is no longer safe."
And then she vanished into the roots.
---
🏠Withdrawal
Isha didn't speak on the ride home.
She didn't eat dinner.
She didn't return her friends' texts.
She stared at the wall for hours — eyes pulsing blue-violet in the dark.
---
📆 The Next Morning
She refused to get up for school.
Her mother knocked once, then gave up.
Her phone buzzed:
12 missed calls — 5 from Riya.
She turned it off.
For the first time in years, she skipped class.
---
đź–¤ Journal Entry
They say "we've been waiting." But for what? For me to explode? To remember?
To die again?
I thought I wanted answers.
Now I just want silence.
> If my life is a lie, I don't want to live it.