Nira woke to the sound of wind rattling the old windows. The morning mist still clung to the hills, curling like smoke over the valley below.
She moved quickly to the study. The notebook should have been where she left it.
It wasn't.
Panic surged in her chest.
Sera was already there, standing frozen, the notebook on the table. Its pages were open — but something was wrong. Several sheets had been torn out, leaving jagged edges.
Nira's hands shook as she lifted the notebook. The missing pages left gaps where predictions and messages once had been.
"Who did this?" she demanded, voice tight.
Sera's eyes darted nervously. "I swear, Nira, I didn't! I… I didn't touch it after yesterday!"
Nira's gaze narrowed. "Then someone else knows. Someone is inside this house."
A sudden chill ran down her spine. It wasn't just the missing pages. The attic, the study, even the walls seemed alive — aware. The notebook pulsed faintly as if warning her, and she realized the truth: the notebook was not merely a passive record. It was defending itself, guiding itself, controlling what she could see.
She rifled through the torn sheets, scanning for clues, letters, diagrams — anything that could tell her what had been removed. A cryptic line near the middle of the book glowed faintly under the UV light:
"Some truths are not meant for her yet."
Her pulse quickened. It wasn't just coincidence. The notebook itself was hiding information, protecting something — or someone.
A noise behind her made her spin around. Arian stepped into the doorway, calm but tense.
"You found out," he said quietly.
"What happened?" Nira demanded. "The pages — they're gone!"
He nodded slowly. "I feared this would happen. People are searching for the notebook. The moment it revealed itself, it became a target. You've been lucky so far. But luck is fading."
Nira's throat tightened. "And my mother?"
Arian's gaze softened. "Aanya tried to shield you from this. She knew someone would come for the notebook, for the knowledge it contains. She left warnings, puzzles, clues — but she couldn't stop the world from noticing once it began moving."
Nira closed her eyes. "Then everything she did, all those letters, all the hidden ink… it was to protect me?"
"Yes," he said. "And to prepare you."
The notebook fluttered as if responding. A new page appeared, handwriting slightly different — a mix of her mother's and her grandmother's:
"The missing must return. She must choose which path to follow."
Nira realized the stakes: not only was the notebook alive, it was actively shaping the events around her. Every torn page, every hidden word, was part of a larger plan — and the next step was hers to take.
Suddenly, the wind outside shifted, louder and sharper. The shadows in the room deepened.
Sera whispered, voice trembling: "Nira… what do we do?"
Nira looked down at the notebook. Every instinct in her body screamed caution, fear, and awe.
She took a deep breath. "We follow it. But on our terms. No one else can decide for us."
Arian nodded. "Good. But understand this — the notebook may not let you choose freely. It's learning… adapting… and it knows more about your life than anyone else."
The clock chimed. Somewhere outside, a crow cawed sharply. The wind rattled the windows.
Nira traced the edge of the torn pages and whispered under her breath:
"I will find the truth. No matter what it takes."
And for the first time, the notebook seemed to hum in agreement.