Evening —
The front door opened with a familiar click.
Aanha's mother stepped inside, shoulders heavy from another endless shift. The scent of antiseptic still clung faintly to her clothes, mixing with the quiet warmth of home.
She kicked off her shoes absentmindedly.
Mom (calling gently):"Aanha?"
Silence answered.
But this silence wasn't new.
Not yet.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Mom (murmuring to herself):"Still out, huh…"
She placed her bag down and moved toward the kitchen.
Kitchen — Routine Against Worry
The fridge opened.
Leftover curry.
Rice.
Untouched.
She paused.
Brows knit slightly.
Mom:"…Didn't even eat properly."
A sigh.
Half concern. Half habit.
She reheated the food anyway.
Like she always did.
Because Aanha had a pattern.
Disappear all day.
Return late.
Apologize with a grin.
"Sorry Mummaaa… lost track of time."
Dining Table — The Empty Chair
Steam curled upward.
The clock ticked.
6:45 PM.
Mom glanced toward the door.
Then back to her plate.
Then—
At Aanha's untouched seat.
Memories Creeping In
Her fingers tightened slightly around the spoon.
She remembered the calls earlier.
Mika — No, aunty, she wasn't at school.
Yun — We thought she was sick…
Two days.
No sight.
No message.
No late-night footsteps.
Still…
Hope lingered stubbornly.
Mom (softly):"You'll walk in any minute…"
She looked at the clock again.
7:10 PM.
Aanha's Room —
She approached the door slowly.
Not panicked.
Not frantic.
Just…
Drawn.
The door creaked open. Everything sat exactly as before. Too exactly. But exhaustion blurred the unease.
She stepped inside.
Ran a hand across the desk. Straightened a book that didn't need straightening. Sat on the bed.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Mom:"You're just busy…"
A fragile smile.
"…like always."
But her eyes glistened faintly.
Because deep down—
Something didn't fit.
Something Subtle
The curtains stirred. Though the window was closed. A soft warmth brushed past her. Gone as quickly as it came.
Mom stilled.
Heart skipping once.
Mom (whispering):"…Aanha?"
Nothing.
Only silence.
Only waiting.
She lay back slowly against the pillow.
Staring at the ceiling.
Holding onto hope like a lifeline.
Mom (soft, aching):"Come home soon…"
Inside the Granny's House —
The silence after the failed connection still clung to the room.
Aanha stood near the window now, arms wrapped around herself. The earlier panic hadn't fully left — it lingered like a knot in her chest.
Her pendant gave a faint, restless pulse.
Sai noticed.
Sai (gently):"Try again."
Aanha looked up.
Hope flickered — fragile, cautious.
Granny, who had been quietly resetting the runes on her communicator, exhaled softly.
Granny: "One more attempt. But this time, stay calm. No rushing emotions into the link."
Aanha nodded quickly.
Too quickly.
She stepped closer, fingers trembling as Granny handed her the rune-lined device once more. Its etched symbols glowed softly under her touch.
Sai moved nearer but didn't interrupt.
Because this moment belonged to her.
Aanha closed her eyes.
Her grip tightened.
A whisper — softer than before.
"...Mumma."
The runes shimmered.
A steady golden ring expanded across the device's surface.
For a breathless second —
Nothing.
Then—
A tone.
A real one.
Not distortion.
Not static.
Aanha's heart leapt.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Her mother sat slumped in a chair outside a ward, because she had to go back to the hospital to handle an emergency case; exhaustion and worry etched across her face. Her phone rested loosely in her hand.
It buzzed.
Unknown signal.
Her breath hitched.
Mom (whispering): "...Aanha?"
She answered instantly.
Connection Established
Aanha's breath shook.
"A-are you there?"
Static crackled faintly — then—
Mom's voice, strained, disbelieving, "Aanha?!"
The sound shattered something inside her.
Relief.
Guilt.
Love.
Tears flooded instantly.
Aanha (choking): "Mumma…"
Sai looked away.
Granny's expression softened with quiet sadness.
Words tumbled out, messy, emotional. "Mumma, I'm so sorry. Granny needed help urgently and things got chaotic. My phone died and I couldn't call. I didn't mean to scare you…"
Silence.
On the other end —
A sharp, trembling inhale.
Mom: "Do you have any idea what I've been going through?!"
Not anger.
Fear.
Pure fear.
Aanha's flames flickered faintly along her fingers.
Sai immediately stepped closer.
Granny's eyes sharpened in warning.
Aanha (crying): "I know… I know, Mumma… I'm really, really sorry…"
Mom's voice broke now.
Softening.
Cracking.
"I called Mika. Yun. Your college. I thought—"
She couldn't finish.
Aanha slid to her knees beside the table, clutching the communicator.
"I'm okay… I promise…"
Mom (whispering): "Where are you?"
The question froze the air.
Sai stiffened.
Granny went completely still.
Aanha's heartbeat thundered.
Aanha swallowed hard.
"…At Granny's."
Not entirely false.
Not entirely safe.
But necessary.
On the other end —
A long, shaking exhale.
Mom: "…You scared me, Aanha."
Aanha's voice shattered,"I'm sorry, Mumma…"
Mom (soft, tired): "Come home soon."
The words pierced deep.
Because Aanha didn't know when that could happen.
Aanha (whisper):"I will…"
A promise wrapped in uncertainty.
The Interruption
The communicator's glow flickered.
Sai's head snapped up.
Granny's aura sharpened instantly.
Static crept in again.
Mom's voice distorted:"Aanha…? Hello—?"
Granny moved fast, stabilizing the runes.
But the signal collapsed.
Connection lost.
Silence.
Heavy.
Aanha stared at the dead device.
Tears sliding freely.
Sai (quietly):"…They're interfering again."
Granny took the communicator slowly.
Granny:"No."
Her eyes darkened.
"…They noticed the link."
Aanha's hand trembled over her pendant.
But beneath the ache —
Relief.
Because she heard her.
Because Mumma heard her.
Outside —
Beyond the wards —
Mist stirred.
Rippling outward.
As if something unseen had felt the connection…
…and marked it.
Flames That Mirror the Heart
The silence after the communicator died felt unbearable.
Aanha remained on her knees.
Frozen.
Her reflection still faintly visible on the darkened runic screen.
"…Come home soon."
The words echoed.
Over.
And over.
Her pendant pulsed once — deep, heavy.
Then—
Heat bloomed beneath her skin.
Not explosive.
Not violent.
But wrong.
Sai sensed it first.
Sai (low, alert): "Aanha…"
A thin ribbon of flame slipped along her fingers.
Weak.
Unsteady.
Like a trembling breath.
Aanha didn't notice.
Her voice barely existed.
Aanha (whispering): "I lied to her…"
Another flicker.
This time brighter.
Sai stepped forward quickly.
Sai: "Hey—"
Emotion Ignites
Aanha's shoulders shook.
Tears fell freely now.
Aanha: "She was crying… and I just—"
The flame flared.
Sudden.
Wild.
Curling violently around her hand.
Sai grabbed her wrist instinctively.
Sai: "Focus!"
Unstable Resonance
The fire surged outward in a jagged pulse.
Not a spell.
Not Ember Pulse.
Pure emotional leakage.
Granny moved instantly.
Granny (firm): "Let go, Sai."
Sai released her.
Trusting.
Granny knelt before Aanha, hands glowing with calm golden light.
Not suppressing.
Balancing.
Granny (steady, grounding): "Child. Look at me."
Aanha's vision blurred.
Flames danced erratically around her trembling fingers.
Granny's voice cut through gently but powerfully, "Your fire is not your enemy."
Aanha gasped.
Aanha: "It hurts…"
Not physical pain.
Emotional overload.
The flames spiked violently —
Then fractured into chaotic sparks.
Flame Whim — involuntary.
Tiny bursts snapped outward in all directions.
Sai shielded his face.
Sai: "Damn it—"
Granny cupped Aanha's burning hands.
Ignoring the heat completely.
Granny (soft but commanding): "Breathe."
Aanha's chest heaved.
Flames roared higher.
Granny: "Again."
Sai watched tensely.
Ready.
Aanha inhaled shakily.
The pendant pulsed.
Granny's aura pulsed with it.
Granny (whisper): "Feel it. Don't fight it."
Another breath.
Slower.
Deeper.
The flames trembled.
Collapsed inward.
The fire softened.
From violent orange—
To a low, aching gold.
Like embers after a storm.
Aanha's hands fell limp into Granny's.
Tears still streaming.
But no more flare.
Granny brushed damp hair from Aanha's face.
Granny (gently): "Guilt feeds wild fire."
Sai exhaled slowly in relief.
Granny continued: "But love…" She touched the pendant. "…creates warmth."
Aanha's Voice
Small.
Fragile.
"…She sounded so tired."
Sai looked away again.
Because he understood too well.
Residual heat shimmered faintly around Aanha now.
No flames.
Just a soft thermal haze.
Granny helped her to her feet.
Granny: "You're exhausted."
Sai (softly): "That wasn't just emotion…"
Granny nodded grimly.
Granny: "The bond amplified it."
Outside —
Beyond the wards —
The mist stirred violently.
Then stilled.
As if something unseen had tasted the surge of her power…
…and was intrigued.