Back in my room, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, as if the wood was the only thing holding me upright. The silence hit harder than any scream. My legs gave in, and I stumbled to the bed, slumping onto it as though all the strength had been drained from my body.
Tears came immediately—hot, heavy, unstoppable. They blurred my vision as I stared at the ceiling, every scene from earlier replaying in my head like a cruel loop.
My chest tightened.
With shaking hands, I reached for my phone. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. There was only one place left to run to, even if it was only with my voice.
I dialed my mother's number.
She picked up almost immediately, as if she had been waiting.
"Mother…" My voice broke the moment I heard hers. "They got me again."
There was a pause—not the kind filled with panic, but the kind filled with understanding.
"Jina," my mother said softly, her calm voice wrapping around me like a blanket, "breathe. Slow down."
I tried, but my breath came out uneven. "Mother, why am I like this?" I whispered. "Why does everything around me turn into chaos? Why can't I just be normal?"
"Jina," she said gently, "this is not your fault. Whatever you are facing was never random. Some paths are written before we even learn how to walk."
Tears rolled down my cheeks faster. I clutched the phone tighter. "The people I trusted… they are the ones ganging up against me. They're the roots behind everything happening in that school. They want to use me—or kill me. Sometimes I don't even know which is worse."
"Jina," my mother called my name again, firmer this time.
"Yes, Mother?"
"I hear the exhaustion in your voice," she said. "But listen to me carefully."
"I want to quit," I cried out. "I'm tired. I just want to come back home and forget everything. The school. The powers. The secrets. Even—" My voice shook. "Even Father's death."
There was silence on the line. Heavy. Painful.
Then my mother spoke again, slower now. "Jina… I wanted you to quit before. But not now."
I frowned through my tears. "Why?"
"Because now," she said, "you are too close. Running away now would not give you peace—it would only give your enemies time."
My hands trembled. "But I'm scared."
"I know," she replied. "And that's why I need you to listen. You are fully protected. Nobody will get to you. Nothing will harm you—
Her words steadied something inside me, just a little.
"All you need to focus on," she continued, "is getting your power back."
"I was trying to," I said quickly. "I really was. I went somewhere ancient, far away, to—"
"Jina," my mother interrupted sharply.
I stopped mid-sentence.
"I told you," she said, her tone no longer gentle but not angry either, "your powers will return naturally. You do not need rituals, for now, seeking power outside yourself will only put you in danger."
"But something interrupted the process," I insisted. "Someone broke in—"
"That interruption," my mother said calmly, "may have saved you from something worse."
I swallowed hard.
"Listen to me," she went on. "Do not go anywhere again in search of your powers. Not now. There are forces watching you—some protective, some predatory. You must learn to stand still before you learn to fight."
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. "Then what should I do?"
"There is something," she said, lowering her voice. "Something your grandfather left for you."
I sat up slowly. "Grandfather?"
"Yes," she said. "A letter. Or rather… a book."
"A book?" I echoed.
"It appears empty," my mother explained. "Blank pages. Anyone else would see nothing. But someone with your power—your true power—will be able to read it."
My heart skipped. "Okay mother
"I will give it to you the next time you come home."she said
I stayed quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in.
"I want you to focus on yourself. Heal. Observe. Learn. The power will answer you when you are ready—not when you are desperate."
I exhaled shakily. "Okay, Mother."
"Good," she replied, her voice softening again. "You are stronger than you think, Jina. And you are not alone, no matter how much it feels like it."
Tears spilled again, but this time they were quieter. "Thank you, Mother."
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too," I whispered.
The call ended.
I stared at the dark screen of my phone for a long moment before gently placing it beside me. The room felt different now—not safer, but steadier. Like the eye of a storm.
I lay back on the bed, my mother's words echoing in my mind.
Focus on yourself.
Do not chase power.
You are protected.