I could not sleep.
The laughter of the villagers would not leave me. It was as if they had gathered inside my head, circling and mocking me again and again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces. Every time I tried to breathe, I felt their words pressing on me.
My mat was rough and full of dust. The straw pricked my skin. The walls of my hut felt too close, like they wanted to crush me. Even the lamp flickered weakly, its little flame shaking as though it too wanted to leave me.
I sat up. My chest was heavy, my throat tight. I could not stay inside. If I stayed, I felt like the fire inside me would break me apart.
So I stood, wrapped my torn shawl around my shoulders, and pushed the door open.
---
The night greeted me with silence.
The air was cool, carrying the smell of wet grass and smoke that lingered from evening fires. A dog barked far away, and a night bird gave a sharp cry from the trees. The temple bell rang once, soft and lonely, carried by the wind.
Above, the stars filled the sky. They were sharp and bright, not gentle at all. To most people, stars were just lights. To me, they looked like eyes, unblinking and watchful.
My gaze turned toward the edge of the village, where the fields ended and the land rose into a dark shape. The Hill of Shadows.
---
The hill stood tall and lonely, its slopes covered with rocks, thorns, and old trees. People feared it. They said rakshasas once danced there in the nights of no moon. They said strange fires burned there, and voices whispered from the stones. Children were told to never go near it.
But for me, it had always been different.
When I was beaten, I went there. When I was mocked, I climbed it. When I felt the fire inside me burning too strong, I sat on its stones and let it cool. To others it was cursed, but to me it was the only place that never turned me away.
My feet began to move on their own. Step after step, past the sleeping houses, past the silent square, past the fields where crops swayed gently in the night wind. The soil was cold under my bare feet, but I did not stop.
The hill was waiting for me.
---
The climb was rough.
Thorns caught my dhoti and scratched my legs. Sharp stones cut into my feet. Branches slapped against my arms. But I did not care. My breath grew short, my chest heaved, yet still I climbed.
The world grew smaller beneath me. The fields looked like dark patches, the houses like clay toys. The banyan tree in the square rose tall even in the night, its roots dangling like ropes. Beyond the village, the Dandak Forest spread out endlessly, a black sea that whispered with the wind.
Finally, I reached the top.
---
I stood on the flat stones of the hill and looked around. The world lay open before me.
The stars stretched across the sky like a river of light. The moon, half hidden by clouds, cast a pale glow over the land. The fields shimmered faintly, and the forest looked alive, as if eyes were hidden in its shadows.
The night was quiet, but inside me, the fire roared.
I fell to my knees on the stones. My fists hit the ground again and again until my knuckles hurt. My voice came out in a whisper, then a shout, then a cry.
"Why? Why me? Why always me? Why must I carry this curse?"
The wind answered with silence.
Tears blurred my vision, but I did not stop. I cried into the night, my chest heavy, my body trembling. "I know there is something inside me. I can feel it. Why can't they see it? Why must I always be less? Why must I always be nothing?"
The clouds moved slowly above me. The stars did not blink. The moon watched like a cold eye.
And then I felt it.
---
At first it was faint, like a tiny spark deep inside my chest. I had felt it before, hidden, weak, almost easy to ignore. But now it pulsed stronger, in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Thump.
A glow.
Thump.
A warmth spreading through me.
Thump.
A fire, small but alive.
I closed my eyes. My tears slowed. I pressed my hand against my chest, and I felt it, real and undeniable.
There was a light in me.
It was not the orb's light. It was not the sect's light. It was mine.
The warmth spread through my arms, my legs, my head. For a moment, I thought I saw a faint glow around my hands, like fireflies circling me. It flickered, then vanished, but I knew it had been there.
I breathed hard, my whole body shaking. A laugh broke from my lips, not out of joy, but out of relief. I had not imagined it. I was not empty.
---
The wind grew colder. The clouds thickened, covering the moon. Shadows stretched across the stones of the hill. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw shapes moving in those shadows, long and twisted, watching me.
The fire inside me flared in answer.
I stood, wiping my face with my sleeve. My heart still pounded, but the shame of the day no longer felt so heavy. The orb may have stayed dark, the villagers may laugh forever, but I had seen the truth.
I had felt the spark.
And I swore then, on that hill beneath the silent stars, that I would not give up. I would walk a path even if the world refused to show me one.
Even if it killed me.