The path to the church felt longer than usual.
Soha walked alone, her steps steady but her thoughts restless. The hills rose gently around her, the narrow path winding between stone and dry grass. The village faded behind her, its sounds growing distant until only the wind and her own footsteps remained.
She had kept replaying Asoka's words in her mind.
Something is missing.
It was not the first time she had heard such words, but it was the first time they had been spoken with such certainty.
By the time the church came into view, Soha's chest felt tight.
The building stood quietly against the hillside, made of pale stone darkened by age. Tall windows reflected the sky, and the wooden doors were open, as they often were during the day. A bell hung above, unmoving.
Soha hesitated at the entrance.
She had come here many times before—for lessons, for prayer, for guidance—but never like this. Never carrying questions that did not feel safe to speak.
Still, she stepped inside.
The air was cool and smelled faintly of old wood and incense. Light filtered in through the windows, falling in long shapes across the stone floor. A few people were scattered inside, speaking in low voices or moving quietly about their tasks.
Near the front, Sister Liora stood by a long table, arranging parchment and books.
Soha approached slowly.
"Sister," she said, lowering her voice.
Sister Liora looked up and smiled gently.
"Soha. You look troubled."
Soha nodded. "I am. May I speak with you privately?"
The smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "Of course."
They moved to the side of the church, where the walls were thick and the light dimmer. Sister Liora gestured for Soha to sit.
"Tell me," she said. "What weighs on you?"
Soha hesitated, then spoke carefully. "It is about a girl from the village. Asoka."
Sister Liora's hands paused. "Go on."
"She has been asking questions," Soha
continued. "Not ordinary ones. She says she feels as though something is missing. That the village, the stories, even her own memories feel… incomplete."
Sister Liora listened without interruption.
"She feels watched," Soha added quietly.
"Not by a person—but by the world itself. As though everything knows something she doesn't."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"That is not an easy burden," Sister Liora said at last. "And not a common one."
"So it means something," Soha said quickly.
"It may," Sister Liora replied. "Or it may mean she is standing too close to questions that were never meant to be rushed."
Soha leaned forward. "Is she in danger?"
Sister Liora did not answer immediately. Instead, she studied Soha's face carefully.
"Danger," she said slowly, "does not always arrive as harm. Sometimes it arrives as knowledge."
Soha swallowed. "Then what should I tell her?"
"Tell her to.. ," Sister Liora said. "To listen more than she speaks. And above all—to be careful whom she trusts with her questions."
"So she is right to feel unsettled," Soha pressed.
"Yes," Sister Liora said. "But feeling something does not mean one must act on it immediately."
"So what do we do?" Soha asked.
Sister Liora folded her hands. "For now, we wait. And we watch. And we make sure her curiosity does not lead her into places she cannot return from."
Soha nodded slowly, unease settling deeper into her chest.
A few steps away, near the far wall of the church, a man stood listening to none of this on purpose.
He had arrived earlier, carrying out a simple task—one that required no attention and no conversation. He had no reason to linger, and yet, as he passed by, the sound of voices reached him.
Not clearly.
Just enough to understand..
"…she feels something is missing…"
"…questions that were never meant to be rushed…"
"…be careful whom she trusts…"
He slowed without realizing it.
The words caught his attention—not because they were unusual, but because of how they were spoken. Carefully. Guardedly. As though something fragile lay beneath them.
A girl.
Curiosity.
Unease.
He did not step closer. He did not look toward them. He simply listened as one listens to distant thunder—not dangerous yet, but worth remembering, he had searched for something for a long time, answers to what he desired..an echo of himself he could never reach fully, that he would go to great lengths to have it.
When the conversation ended, he resumed his task as if nothing had happened.
She began the walk back down the hill, her thoughts heavy. Sister Liora had not dismissed Asoka's feelings—but neither had she explained them. But at that moment, she had changed her mind, she remembered the happy faces of Asoka, how her smiles had sometimes reached her eyes. she wasn't that close to her as Eliza was, but she had seen her worth, she needed someone to help her, to be with her and guide her.
she didn't want Asoka to feel in the dark, she wanted to believe that what she said was true, about her dreams and thoughts and the sister's words, she wanted to believe she was okay.. As a student of the church.. Cases like this were not unheard of—instances of people touched by things beyond comprehension, beyond natural law. Demon castings, deliverances, healings, miracles—things that made her pulse quicken with fear as much as with awe. she had seen things beyond the natural laws of nature,The reality she had tried so hard to ignore was undeniable: humans were not alone. And the more she saw, the more her blood ran cold.
"For People fear only what they cannot name, and what they cannot name lives beyond their understanding."
so she decided to not tell Asoka..
But that evening, Soha did not make it home.
Somewhere between the trees and the silence, someone took her, and everything after went dark.