My father returned home frowning, his steps heavy as if he carried an entire mountain on his shoulders. The moment we entered, he slammed the door shut, his voice roaring like thunder:
— "This is the last place we have to hide! If they discover us… you will face the harshest punishment!"
I froze in place, my heart trembling inside my chest, my eyes staring at him in shock. I had never expected him to be this furious. Flustered, I began whispering to myself: "I hope no one notices… I wish no one ever finds out what happened."
A day passed… then two… then three nights where sleep eluded me. Nightmares haunted me, and a suffocating anxiety pressed on my chest. My father stayed awake every night, preparing for every possibility, moving with a heavy silence as if anticipating an invisible danger. And with every stern glance he cast, the guilt inside me grew heavier, as though I alone was the cause of this tension, as though my power was a burden dragging us toward an inescapable abyss.
Days crept by slowly, week after week, until two full weeks passed without a single stranger appearing at our door. Only then did the fear that had been strangling me begin to ease, and for the first time, I felt as though I could finally breathe again.
Yet the unease never truly left me… I found myself thinking constantly about what we really were, and about that name — Nazaria — the one that had angered my father so deeply when I uttered it. The more I recalled his darkened expression and furious tone, the more my curiosity burned. Then his old warning returned to my mind: "Do not touch the books on the top shelf."
One night, when silence cloaked the house, I crept toward the library. My heart pounded with every step, and my hand trembled as I reached for the forbidden shelf… but I froze. The top shelf was completely empty. All the books were gone, as though they had never existed.
My eyes widened in shock, doubt creeping into me:
— "Where did the books go? Was it Father who hid them?"
I frowned, my thoughts racing. Where could Father have hidden them? The question wouldn't leave me, so I began searching secretly each day — through the house, inside cupboards, beneath tables, even behind old doors. I left no corner untouched, until one day I reached the storage room.
I stepped forward slowly, my heart thundering. Tilting my head up, my gaze caught a bundle of books tied tightly with rope, perched on top of the cupboard. I gasped softly, then hurried to drag a chair over, climbing it with trembling hands until I finally reached them. But as soon as I grasped the books, I lost my balance, stumbling and crashing to the ground with a loud thud.
Shaken by the fall, I barely caught my breath when I heard my mother's voice calling from afar, alarmed by the noise — especially since no one else was home except her and Father.
Pain shot through my foot as it hit the floor; I clutched it with my hand to ease the ache. But my breathing only quickened as I heard her footsteps drawing nearer to the room.
Terror surged through me — not just from being caught after the fall, but because the storage room itself was supposed to be locked… locked with the very key I had stolen secretly from my mother's cupboard.
Her mother was not a manipulator of powers like her father, and that was why Nariman could sense her presence so clearly. Yet despite that, her mother was keenly observant, never missing a thing. And now, if she were to see her here with those books… there would be no escape.
Nariman forced herself to move, walking ever so slowly until she reached the door. She pressed against it from the inside with all her strength, making it seem tightly shut. She wanted her mother to believe the door was locked, just as it always was.
Her mother approached the door, testing it with a push to make sure, while Nariman's heart pounded wildly in her chest, sweat dripping down her face from the tension and fear. But the door did not open.
Her mother paused, puzzled, wondering where the sound had come from. After a brief hesitation, she decided to search the other rooms.
Nariman let out a quiet sigh of relief, slipped quickly out of the storage room, and closed the door behind her with the utmost care so as not to make a sound. She returned the key to its place, her chest free of worry though her heart was still racing.
Suddenly, she appeared behind her mother, startling her.
Her mother froze, shocked at the sight, her voice laced with both anger and concern:
— "You frightened me! Where have you been?"
Nariman smiled faintly, her eyes shifting cautiously as she replied:
— "I was in the bathroom."
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
— "But I heard something fall!"
Nariman feigned innocence, blurting quickly:
— "I slipped in the bathroom."
Her mother's features softened into worry, and she said firmly but gently:
— "You must be more careful."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving Nariman to exhale deeply, trying to calm her racing heart.
After her mother left, Nariman lay down on her bed, her expression blank, lost in thought. She whispered to herself:
— "I'll have to try again tomorrow…"
Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, though her mind continued to spin restlessly.
The next morning, Nariman woke to find her father still asleep, her mother busy preparing breakfast, and her siblings hurrying to get ready for school.
Seizing the chance, she quietly took the key once more, unlocked the storage room, and slipped inside. Moving quickly, she grabbed one book from the stack and closed the door softly behind her.
Back in her bed, she pulled the blanket over herself and switched on her small flashlight. The faint glow lit up the pages, the only way she could read without being discovered. She opened the book, her eyes widening with excitement as she began to read about the levels of power.
What caught her attention were drawings of six eyes sketched on the page. She turned to the next page—and froze. One of the eyes looked exactly like hers. Her own eyes widened in shock as she read the name written beside it: Lonvega.
She flipped through frantically, searching for her rank among the levels. Her breath caught when she saw it—she was ranked number one in the Special Tier, the highest and rarest of all power users. Disbelief and fear washed over her. She had never imagined her power could be this immense.
Nariman lay back on the bed, her gaze fixed on the page, her mind adrift in a whirlpool of awe and dread.
Suddenly, her mother entered the room, calling out:
— "Wake up, breakfast is ready!"
Nariman's heart leapt in shock. She hurriedly turned off the flashlight and shoved the book beneath her pillow, trembling with fear.
At the breakfast table, Nariman sat in silence, her thoughts far from the food before her. Her eyes lingered on her father, her mind replaying the revelation she had just uncovered.
— "Father…" she said hesitantly, "you once told me my power was strong… but what makes my power different from yours? Is there something that defines the difference between powers?"
Her father was silent for a moment, studying her with suspicion, before replying calmly:
— "No… there is nothing that measures the difference between powers."
Nariman sighed in frustration and pressed on quickly:
— "Then how do you know mine is stronger than yours?"
Her father smiled, though his tone carried irritation at her persistence:
— "I can simply feel it."
At that, Nariman frowned, a surge of resentment rising within her. She could feel his lie, his deliberate concealment.
She pushed her plate away, and both her parents watched her with worry as she muttered:
— "I'm full."
She rose from the table and retreated to her room.
Leaning against the door, her eyes glimmering with anger, her mind stormed with questions:
— "Why are they lying to me?"
— "What are they hiding?"
— "Who is Nazaria?"
— "Should I even trust them?"
— "Have their attitudes toward me changed… only because my power is too great?"
Each question weighed heavier on her chest, and every possible answer frightened her more. She felt torn apart—caught between her hunger for the truth and her fear of what she might uncover, as if everything around her was wrapped in shadows and locked doors.