When the bell rang, the sound didn't echo through the school.
Zamira was the only one who noticed.
The sound didn't travel down the corridors.It felt as if it had jumped—from one place to another—drawing a thin line between layers instead of moving through space. Students gathered their things, bags were slung over shoulders, noise rose as usual.
But inside Zamira, there was silence.
When she stood up from her desk, the floor beneath her feet was real. Cold. Solid. Familiar.Yet… too clear. Too defined.
As if the world was trying to prove itself to her.
She stepped into the corridor and headed for the stairs.
Walking through the crowd, she suddenly slowed.
One step behind her—
There was emptiness.
Not the absence of a person, but the absence of a presence. Something should have been there, yet wasn't visible. Zamira kept walking. She didn't look back.
Looking was still an invitation.
Outside the school gates, the air was cold. The sky looked normal. Clouds were where they should be.
But the wind… was blowing the wrong way.
Her heartbeat picked up as she walked toward the bus stop. Not without reason. This wasn't a familiar rhythm.
It was a warning.
When the bus arrived, people filled it quickly. Zamira moved toward the back and took a seat by the window. Her reflection appeared in the glass.
This time… there was no delay.
But within the reflection, something vibrated—something that wasn't hers.
When the bus started moving, after the first stop passed, she felt them.
There were three.
One stood without holding onto anything.One crouched between the seats, its joints bent at impossible angles.The third… was directly behind her.
Zamira's shoulders didn't tense. She didn't hold her breath. She simply acknowledged them.
No sound came.
But a thought settled in her mind.
"You smell like two layers now."
She didn't take her eyes off the window. She focused on the ordinary city outside. A small grocery store. An apartment entrance. A parked car.
"Not yet," she replied silently."I'm on the threshold."
With every stop the bus made, the demons grew clearer. When people got off, they didn't follow. But their presence thickened. One of them tilted its head—not in respect, but in measurement.
"We thought you didn't know you were a door," the thought pressed in."But now you do."
Zamira pressed her fingers into her knees. She didn't call for her power. She remembered what kept it sealed. Nayel's voice—distant, but steady.
The bus jolted. For a brief moment, the lights flickered.
One of the demons sharpened in the reflection on the glass. A cracked mark ran across its chest. Sealed… but strained.
Someone had sent them.
"You're in the wrong place," Zamira said quietly. Her lips didn't move."I'm here. But this world… not yet."
For the first time, hesitation rippled through them.
As the bus approached her stop, her heartbeat calmed. The doors opened. People stepped off. She did too.
The demons stayed behind.
But staying didn't mean leaving.
She didn't look back as she walked home. The street was familiar. But the house…
The house was too quiet.
When she turned the key, there was movement inside.
A sound came from the kitchen.
Her mother.
Zamira took off her coat. Placed her shoes neatly by the door. The air inside the house felt compressed—but not dark.
Protective.
Her mother was in the kitchen. The kettle was on, the water not yet boiling.
"You're late," her mother said without turning around.
Zamira stopped.
The space around the woman felt… narrowed. The world was holding her tightly. Zamira could sense that now.
"The bus was crowded," she replied.
Her mother turned. Her gaze lingered on Zamira's face for a moment too long.
"The house feels strange today," she said slowly. "Like something passed through during the night."
Zamira didn't answer.
"I don't know if it was a dream," her mother continued. "But when I woke up this morning… I was afraid you wouldn't be here."
A thin ache moved through Zamira's chest.
"I'm here," she said."For now."
Her mother said nothing. She turned off the kettle. Silence settled into the kitchen.
But it wasn't empty.
Zamira knew that.
The house had begun to recognize her.