Morning arrived as if nothing had happened.
The power outage had already been explained away: "A regional malfunction."No one wanted to remember the night.And those who did couldn't quite put it into words.
Zamira stood in the kitchen, by the window.
There was sunlight.But the light felt… incomplete.
Two cups of tea sat on the table.One of them had gone cold.
Her mother spoke from behind her.
"You'll be late for school."
The tone was familiar.Not harsh. Not gentle.The voice of a woman worn down by years, yet still standing.
Zamira turned.
Her mother leaned against the counter, wrapped in her old cardigan. Her hair was pulled back hastily, dark circles shadowing her eyes.
But that wasn't what Zamira noticed.
The space around her mother…felt narrower.
As if the world had started giving her less room.
"Mom," Zamira said quietly."Did you feel anything last night?"
Her mother frowned.
"Again?" she said. "Zamira, not every blackout is the end of the world."
Then she paused.
"…But," she added,"I did have a strange dream."
Zamira's chest tightened.
"What kind?" she asked.
Her mother thought for a moment.
"It felt like someone walked through the house," she said."I couldn't see their face. But behind them… something was being dragged."
Zamira didn't respond.
Her mother noticed.
"Listen," she said more softly,"you weren't like this before. Lately you're always distant. Always somewhere else."
Zamira looked away.
Because it was true.
She wasn't here anymore.But she hadn't left either.
"We'll talk after school," her mother said."Don't miss your bus."
Zamira grabbed her coat.
As she stepped out the door, her mother called after her.
"Zamira…"
She stopped.
"You weren't asleep last night," the woman said,"were you?"
Zamira answered without turning around.
"No, Mom."
That was true too.
The bus stop was crowded.
People stared at their phones, put on their headphones, tried to start their day.
Zamira was alone in the crowd.
Because she could see the layers.
She noticed the first one in the glass.
In the side mirror of the bus.
Behind her own reflection…there was another face.
But when she looked directly, it vanished.
She got on the bus.
Moved toward the back. Sat by the window.
As the bus started moving, her chest tightened.
Because the bus was…full.
But the numbers didn't add up.
Zamira held her breath.
An old man sat in the front row. Two students behind him. A few people standing.
And between them…
Gaps.
But those gaps weren't empty.
In the back of the bus, between the seats, twisted forms were hunched.
They looked human.But they didn't hold their shape.
As if their existence hadn't fully settled.
Where one should have had a head, shadow rippled.Another's legs never touched the floor.
Demons.
But not the kind from stories.
These were trackers.
They had no eyes.Yet they were watching Zamira.
The bus stopped.
The doors opened.
Cold air rushed in.
And then one of them leaned close.
A whisper brushed her ear—
"Your scent has changed."
Zamira flinched—but she didn't scream.
Because screaming meant inviting them.
She placed her hands on her knees.
Breathed in.
She didn't call her power.
Not yet.
She looked out the window.
The school building came into view.
One of the demons shifted.
Now it stood directly in front of her.
No one else noticed anything.
But Zamira saw a cracked seal in its chest.
Someone had sent them.
The bus stopped.
The doors opened.
Zamira stood.
The demons didn't follow her off.
But their attention did.
The school…was the same.
The noise in the yard. The shouting. Teachers rushing past.
But wherever Zamira walked, a pocket of silence formed.
When she entered the classroom, her classmates were talking.
"The power went out last night—"
"Ours too."
Zamira took her seat.
Opened her notebook.
Picked up her pen.
But she couldn't write.
Because she saw her reflection in the window.
And this time, she wasn't alone.
Behind her, a faint trace lingered.
It wasn't Nayel.
But it was something from his world.
A teacher entered the room.
The lesson began.
Zamira lowered her head.
A soft burning spread over her heart.
You are being followed, the voice inside her said.But you are not prey yet.
For now.
When the bell rang, Zamira didn't stand.
Because she knew—
This was no longer only her battle.
Her mother.The school.The bus.This world.
All of it stood at the edge of a fracture.