Two days remained until her birthday.
Zamira lay awake in her room, feeling the silence breathing against the back of her neck as her thoughts spiraled.
At exactly 03:03, her lamp flickered once—
then again—
and again.
She flinched, but by now she was almost… accustomed to it.
When the light finally went out completely, a shadow in the corner of her room began to stir.
But this time, it was different.
The shadow grew.
Shifted.
Took shape.
It rippled across the wall as if made of liquid darkness.
Zamira stood up; the floor beneath her feet felt as though it were sliding away.
The shadow vanished for a heartbeat—
then reappeared.
She glanced around, but she was no longer in her room.
The world around her glowed in shades of grey and shimmering silver.
The sky was a swirling blend of violet and molten silver.
In the distance rose colossal structures—
not built of stone,
but living, vibrating crystal spires.
The air was heavy, humming with a rhythm that felt like music inside her bones.
And a little farther ahead, a silhouette stood watching her.
"Nayel!"
His black attire seemed to swallow the darkness of this world,
yet the icy-blue light radiating from his body illuminated everything around him.
Zamira's heart pounded so fiercely it felt ready to break free,
but she wasn't afraid.
Nayel didn't speak.
He simply lifted his hands,
and streams of shimmering light flowed from his fingertips, drifting weightlessly through the air.
A door appeared before Zamira—
closed, sealed.
She tried to take a step toward it,
but the world suddenly shuddered.
The sky cracked like splintering glass,
and the entire realm trembled.
A whisper echoed through the darkness:
"Not yet…"
She gasped—
and woke in her room.
Sweat clung to her skin,
the lamp was dead,
and the book on her desk had opened on its own again.
Light pulsed from the center of the page, forming words that glowed softly.
Zamira leaned forward.
The message shimmered before her eyes:
"Darkness is not where we are imprisoned because of our evil.
The light still lives within us."
In that moment, Zamira understood—
this was no longer curiosity.
This was a calling.
A voice meant only for her.