The truth unfolded slowly, like something reluctant to be known.
Some children are born different.
Not gifted.
Not cursed.
Anchors.
Their shadows don't just follow them. They absorb things — fear, grief, guilt, unspoken pain.
When someone breaks inside, the shadow detaches.
And the Anchor's shadow consumes it.
The person remains.
But something essential is missing.
That's why no one investigated the disappearances.
Because technically, no one vanished.
Their bodies stayed.
Their shadows didn't.
And Aarav wasn't special.
He was a container.
A quiet collector of fragments.
Every time someone fractured…
His shadow fed.
And it was getting hungry.