The sun had barely risen, but the valley below was already alive with muted movement — smoke curling from chimneys, distant voices carried on the wind, the faint metallic scent of early morning rain.
Nira hadn't slept. Her mind was a tangle of letters, hidden ink, and warnings. Every page of the notebook seemed to hum with life, as if it could feel her fear.
A soft knock at the door made her flinch.
"Sera?" she called.
"Yes! I came as soon as I could," Sera said, stepping inside, umbrella dripping, cheeks flushed with cold. She smiled, bright and oblivious. "You won't believe the traffic…"
Nira forced a smile but said nothing. Her eyes stayed on the notebook lying open on the table.
Sera noticed. "Still playing with Amaira's old junk?"
Nira hesitated. Should she tell her best friend the truth? About the notebook, the predictions, the ink that seemed alive? About Arian?
"I… I can't explain it," she said finally, her voice trembling. "It's not just a notebook. It's… something else."
Sera tilted her head. "You mean… magical?"
Nira opened her mouth but closed it again. How could she explain what even she barely understood?
Later that day, Nira left the notebook on the table while she went outside to check the old garden. The air smelled of wet earth and moss.
When she returned, her heart stopped.
The notebook was gone.
Sera was sitting at the table, holding it. Her eyes darted guiltily. "I… I just wanted to see…"
Nira froze. "Sera! You don't understand! It's dangerous!"
"I know, I know!" Sera stammered. "But it's just paper! I just wanted to know what it said — I wasn't thinking…"
Before Nira could respond, her phone buzzed. A notification she hadn't expected: an article posted online.
The headline made her blood run cold:
"Stranger Discovers 'Predictive Notebook' in Hill Town — Mysterious Events Unfold"
Her hands shook as she scrolled. Pictures of the notebook, details about Amaira Devi, even references to Nira herself were all published. Someone had tipped the journalist — someone who now knew the notebook existed.
Sera's face paled. "It wasn't me! I swear! I didn't—"
Nira's stomach twisted. "Then who?!"
Her eyes fell on a comment at the bottom of the article — a single line, chilling in its precision:
"The girl with the notebook will have to pay for what she reads."
The room seemed to darken. The notebook pulsed faintly in Sera's hands, almost as if it sensed the chaos unfolding.
Arian had warned her. External forces. People who would stop at nothing to control the notebook. And now the warning had come true.
Sera looked up, tears in her eyes. "I didn't think— I didn't know anyone would see it!"
Nira's chest tightened, a mixture of anger, betrayal, and fear. "Sera… this is bigger than curiosity. Bigger than us. The notebook doesn't just record events — it shapes them. And now it's out there. Out of our control."
Sera's lips trembled. "I… I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."
"You helped," Nira said softly, her voice shaking. "But helping sometimes means doing nothing. We have to fix this. Before it fixes itself… in a way we won't survive."
The wind outside rattled the windows. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed, sharp and insistent — a reminder that the clock was ticking, and the notebook's influence was spreading.
Nira looked at Sera, her best friend and now inadvertent betrayer, and realized this: she couldn't trust anyone completely. Not even the people she loved most.
The notebook lay open on the table, its pages whispering promises and threats in ink only they could understand.
Tomorrow, she would have to face the stranger who warned her. But today… today, she had to face betrayal, fear, and the truth of what she had unleashed.
The first step of survival, she understood, was learning who could be trusted.
And sometimes… no one could.