Zamira is eighteen—quiet on the outside, but carrying storms within her.
She lives with her mother in an old apartment building tucked away in one of Istanbul's forgotten neighborhoods. Her father disappeared years ago. Some say he abandoned them, others whisper that he died in an accident. Her mother never gave a clear answer.
And that silence became the echoing void in Zamira's soul—
a question without a shape, without an end.
A question she knows she cannot solve on her own.
At school, she is nearly invisible. Her circle is small; she walks alone, drifting between books and her own inner world.
But beneath that quiet shell lies a truth no one knows:
Since she was a child, Zamira has seen things she was never meant to see.
A shadow quivering in the corner of a room…
A whisper brushing past her ear…
Dark silhouettes clinging to people as if feeding on their fears…
When she was younger, she told her mother.
But her mother, shaped by culture and fear, forced her to bury it.
And from that day onward, Zamira carried it alone.
Yet she knew—
these visions were not imagined.
Not dreams.
Not fantasies.
At night, she rarely slept.
Sometimes she felt eyes on her for hours…
Sometimes a reflection appeared in her window that didn't belong…
Sometimes a breath warmed the edge of her ear.
Whenever she was alone, the world seemed to deepen—
darken—
as though something waited for her in the quiet.
By day, she was an ordinary high school girl.
By night, another door opened…
and a presence stepped through it every time.
Inside her lived two halves:
the silence the world demanded,
and her mother's rule echoing like a warning:
"Don't speak of what you didn't see.
Don't tell what you didn't hear."
The shadows she witnessed, the whispers curling around her…
all of it pushed against that rule she had been forced to swallow.
Since she was little, Zamira had been obsessed with life and death.
Where does the soul go when someone dies?
What is the void—truly?
This wasn't fear.
It was her instinct to understand the real cycle of existence.
Books were her refuge—
mythology, ancient civilizations, jinn, angels…
Whenever she could, she disappeared into dusty library shelves
or lost herself in obscure forums online.
While her peers chased parties and excitement,
she chased the unseen.
She was brave—
not reckless, but drawn to the unknown.
For Zamira, darkness wasn't something to fear;
it was a door waiting to be understood.
And without realizing it, her curiosity had already done something irreversible.
It invited something into her life.
A presence.
A connection.
A door.
One that would soon open wide—
and pull her into a world she had been sensing all her life.