When Zamira woke that morning, the silence in her room felt wrong.
Not empty.Not quiet.Just… withdrawn.
As if sound itself had taken a step back.
She pulled the curtain aside. The street looked the same—gray buildings, familiar paths, people moving through their routines.Yet everything felt slightly out of reach.The world wasn't touching her directly anymore; it flowed around her, like a thin layer of water she stood inside.
She passed the mirror—and stopped.
Her first instinct was not to look.
But she didn't need to.
She could feel it.
The mirror no longer reflected.It layered.
She raised her eyes.
For a heartbeat, everything was normal.Then her shadow lagged behind.
Zamira held her breath.
She saw herself—but there was depth in her eyes now.Too much light.Too little shadow.
Neither felt right.
She turned away, her heart racing—not with fear, but with weight.The cost of this power was simple:
She could no longer look at herself for too long.
"I…" she whispered,"…belong to two places."
No answer came.But the space was not empty.
On the bus, Zamira took her usual seat by the window.People brushed past her—but it felt like they never quite touched.
The elderly woman beside her shifted uncomfortably.A child in the back seat began to cry for no reason.A man paused as he passed her, frowned, then walked away without a word.
Zamira wasn't doing this.
But it was happening.
The world couldn't adjust itself around her anymore.
She caught her reflection in the glass.This time, the light in her eyes was hidden—but present.
When she reached school, the corridors were crowded as always.Laughter. Lockers. Rushing footsteps.
But the light behaved strangely.It snagged on corners.Bent around empty space.
As if something invisible stood there.
Then—at the far end of the hall—a brief dimming.So fast no one else noticed.
Zamira stopped.
A thin vibration spread through her chest.
Nayel.
She didn't see him.But she felt his presence like a cost being paid.
In another world—
The air in Nayel's realm had grown heavy.The balance between light and shadow had fractured; thin cracks webbed the ground.
Taru stepped forward, eyes sharp with anger.
"This is unacceptable," he said. "A human cannot access the layers."
Darius remained calm, his voice precise."The laws were broken. Nayel must be sealed."
Sirius had been silent—but his face was pale."This isn't an error," he said finally. "This is… an threshold."
Liliana lifted her head for the first time.She was staring at nothing.
"We can't observe her," she whispered. "That has never happened before."
Silence fell.
Then Cebrail spoke.
His voice was gentle—but final.
"Because Zamira is no longer something to be observed."
They all turned to him.
"What do you mean?" Taru demanded.
Cebrail's wings shifted slightly.
"She isn't a door.She is the threshold itself."
None of them felt relief.
Doors could be closed.Thresholds… chose.
By evening, Zamira's head throbbed.Her house was quiet, yet the walls vibrated faintly—as if pressure were building somewhere else.
When she lay down, the room didn't darken.
It folded.
Her familiar bedroom stepped back, revealing another layer—older, rawer, unfinished.
And Nayel stood there.
This time, clearly.
Tall.Clothed in black that looked woven from shadow itself.Gold tones in his hair dulled.His ice-blue eyes were tired.
Zamira stood.
"Nayel…"
She stepped closer.
Touched him.
The moment her fingers met his—
The light inside Zamira settled.Her heartbeat calmed.
But Nayel's body stiffened.His breath caught.
"Stop," he said quietly.
She pulled back."Does it hurt?"
"No," he answered. "But… I'm weakening."
That was the truth.
The bond wasn't equal.
Zamira was the center.Nayel was the cost.
"I was punished," he said."For the bond. But I don't blame you."
Zamira shook her head."I didn't choose you."
Silence.
"But I won't let go," she added.
The room trembled.
Power surged from Zamira's chest, pressing against the walls.A thin wave slipped through the building and out into the street.
The lights went out.
Only in her neighborhood.
A small island of darkness formed in the city.People leaned out of windows.Some afraid.Some curious.
A man thought he saw another shadow moving within the dark.A woman dreamed of a door cracking open.
For the first time, the dark side glanced at the human world—uninvited.
Zamira felt it.
"Stop," she whispered.
She raised her hands.
This time, consciously.
She didn't summon power.She didn't command it.
She balanced it.
An invisible shield formed around Nayel—neither light nor dark.
He fell to his knees—but did not vanish.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said, breathless.
"I should have," Zamira replied."Because if I am the threshold… the decision is mine."
Elsewhere—
Cebrail bowed his head.
"We're too late," he said softly."She has chosen herself."
Zamira sat on the edge of her bed.Her heart was steady.
The world was not.
Outside, the power was still out.A thin line trembled across the sky.
Nayel lifted his head.Fear and awe intertwined in his gaze.
"This," he said,"will change the war."
Zamira didn't look at the mirror.But she smiled.
"Then let it change."
And the threshold—
for the first time—
remained open by choice.