The room had only just begun to breathe again after the storm of truths Maya had released into it.
Conversations murmured like distant rivers, soft and uncertain,
and yet —
the air still trembled around her,
as if her words from moments before still echoed through the beams of the old house.
Maya sat where she always sat —
still as a sculpture carved from dusk,
silent as the final note of a forgotten hymn.
Her cup rested untouched between her palms.
The steam had already faded.
The others watched her with the reverence one gives to an ancient relic —
something beautiful,
something wounded,
something that should have shattered long ago but somehow still endured.
The Ghost of Hell members gathered again around her.
Not too close.
Not too far.
At a distance shaped by respect and the delicate awe she always inspired.
It was Anik who spoke first this time.
His voice was careful, almost ceremonial.
"Maya… may i ask another question?"
Maya blinked once — slow, unbothered.
"You may."
The others exchanged glances.There was hesitation.Anik inhaled deeply.
"They call you… the Rose of Death."
He glanced at the others.
"And we… we want to understand why."
Maya's lashes lowered,not in shame,but in memory.
Her voice emerged quiet,soft as soil being brushed aside.
"Because I rose from a place where no one rises."
The room stilled.
Anik frowned gently.
"What do you mean?"
A long pause stretched between them —
a pause that felt older than the walls,
older than the names they carried,
older than the wounds they tried to hide.
Maya's voice returned like an echo from a forgotten chamber.
"They tried to make the earth my prison,"
she said softly.
"Behind the lab… there was a garden of roses."
Some members exchanged confused looks.
A garden?
A place of beauty?
But Maya continued.
"Beneath that garden… was the place they used for disposal."
The house inhaled sharply —
all at once,
all together.
Maya remembered it not as sound,
but as a weight.
A weight that pressed on the walls,
on the lights,
on her own chest.
The corridors smelled of metal and frost,
and the lamps glowed the way cold stars do —
bright,
but without warmth.
From far away, there were footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Certain.
Not the footsteps of people who feared the night—
the footsteps of people
who believed they owned it.
Behind the glass doors,
scientists waited with clipboards clutched like shields,
faces pale under the white bulbs.
Not because they were innocent—
but because even they knew
that something inside those walls
had grown stronger than their intentions.
And in the deepest chamber of that lab,
where the air itself felt trapped—
Maya sat.Small.Silent.Unmoving.The storm inside her had not awakened yet.
But the world around her had already begun to tremble.
There were voices.
Sharp.Commanding.Discussing her like an equation,a tool,a weapon that refused to break.
One voice said:
"She will not surrender."
Another replied:
"She was not built to."
Another whispered:
"Tonight will end it."
A memory surfaced—
Arab's voice,
soft as dusk:
"If you ever feel the world collapsing,
stand.
Even if it breaks you.
Stand."
Maya's expression did not shift.
"They expected me not to rise again."
Nahir's hand tightened over his mouth.
Aanik whispered, trembling,
"Maya… are you saying they… they put you—"
She stopped him with the smallest tilt of her head.
"Do not speak the word."
The room obeyed.
Maya's face remained emotionless as she continued:
"I remember the scent of roses above me.
Faint.Distant.Like something calling from a world I could not reach."
Rani pressed a hand to her chest, trying not to cry.
Maya went on, voice calm in a way that made their souls ache:
"But I did not die.
The force inside me would not allow it."
The chamber shuddered.
Glass cracked.Metal groaned.The air bent.
People ran.Doors wouldn't open.Lights died one by one like candles blown by an unseen wind.
Everyone died.... Everyone died that night. One had an iron bar stuck in his throat. One was frozen in the ice. One was burned in the fire.
Just an overwhelming presence—
as if the night itself had opened its eyes.
Those who survived later said
they saw a girl standing inside the storm—
destroying,ending what needed to end.
The silence following her words stretched like a mourning cloth.The roses above the lab wilted all at once as though bowing their heads to a grief too deep for petals to carry.
And when dawn finally touched the world again—
The lab was silent.she had been buried beneath roses and still risen.
Risen like something the world could not silence.
Half the people had died .Some had collapsed from terror.Others sat weeping into corners,unable to understandhow a child they tried to break had walked through the night without falling.
And Maya—
she stood in the center of it all,breathing softly,as though nothing had happened.
Her eyes were empty,her heartbeat steady,her soul still locked behind the walls they built.
Aanik whispered, voice breaking,
"So… that is why they called you the Rose of Death?"
Maya nodded.
"Yes.When I returned…they feared me.They whispered that even the earth could not keep me.The name spread.Those who survived that night…the ones who saw what I became…they carried it like a warning."
Farhan swallowed hard.
"What happened… after that night?"
Maya's eyes lowered,
as though she was looking at a memory she would not share.
"Enough."
One word.She lifted her gaze:"I do not speak of that night."
No one pushed further.
Anik took a slow breath, then asked the next question, careful and trembling:
"Then… who gave you the name 'Maya'?"
A softer silence fell —
one made not of fear,but of something gentler.Something almost sacred.
Maya's fingers touched the sleeve of her coat lightly.
Her voice came as a faint breath:
"Arab."
The name fell like a leaf settling upon water —
quiet,delicate,deep with meaning.
Anik leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper.
"Why?
Why did he choose that name for you?"
Maya looked at the floor.Then at the wall.
Then at the space in front of her —
as though she was watching a memory unfold like old film beneath moonlight.
When she finally spoke,her voice carried the softness of winter dusk.
"Because I had no name."
Farhan flinched.Rani covered her mouth.
Mahi's eyes shimmered.
Maya continued:"I was not given an identity.Not a title.Not a place in the world.I existed only as what they made me.A tool.A weapon.A project."
Her voice remained steady.Simple truth.
"Arab said I was not a project.Not a weapon. Not something built."
She lifted her gaze,and for a moment the room felt like a shrine.
"He said I was…'like magic.'"
A hush rippled through everyone.
Maya went on:"He told me that my presence felt like a quiet miracle —one that should not exist,yet somehow did."
Her hands folded in her lap.
"So he gave me a name that meant illusion.
A name that meant mystery.A name that meant something that appears out of nothing."
She blinked.
"He called me Maya because he believed I was more than what they created."
Rani's tears fell silently.Nahir wiped his face roughly.
Even Fahin looked away, jaw tight.
But Maya simply sat —still, steady, untouched by the weight crushing the others.
Aanik whispered:
"Do you… like the name he gave you?"
Maya paused.
Her voice returned like a wind passing through old ruins."I do not know."
"Why?" Aanik asked softly.
Maya answered with quiet, ancient calm: "Because my existence has never belonged to me."
The room went still.
"Names are for those who live as themselves,"
Maya said quietly."I have always lived as what I was made to be."
Her gaze drifted to the window —to the faint morning light brushing the glass."But Arab called me Maya until his last breath.So I carry the name."
Rani stepped forward.
Her knees trembled as she lowered herself to sit in front of Maya.Her voice was gentle, but aching.
"Maya… do you want to keep the name 'rose of death ' now?
Maya looked at her.There was no softness.No emotion.Just the stillness of someone who had never been allowed the luxury of personal choice.
"I keep the name 'mayabini ' because it is the only thing he left me."
Mahi broke again, covering her eyes.
Fahin spoke next, voice low:
"Maya… you said those who survived that night call you the Rose. "
She looked up."You may call me Maya.Nothing more call me ' The rose of death '."
Nahir bowed his head.
"Then Maya you will remain."
A stillness settled over the room —
cleaner now,like snow falling over old wounds.
she remained unchanged.No sorrow.No relief. No tension.Only stillness.Ancient as winter.Enduring as stone.Unreachable as a star buried in the oldest night.
She lifted her cup again.Her sleeve shifted.
This time she did not correct it.
The dark mark on her forearm caught the light —
a quiet reminder of all she had survived.
No one looked away.No one flinched And for the first time in that long, aching morning,
The room breathed with her.Not around her.Not because of her.With her.
As if she were no longer simply a shadow in their world —but a silent tradition they wished to protect,an old story kept alive through reverence,a rose that had risen from the earth and refused to wilt.