Mira spent the next few days in a fog. The world around her moved as if through water—conversations seemed distant, food tasted bland, and sleep was fitful. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted permanently, like a door had been opened that she could never close again.
Her parents had laid the truth before her, expecting—what? That she would just accept it? That she would embrace the idea that she was part of some ancient legacy?
She refused.
Mira buried herself in books, scouring every record she could find in her parents’ library. Scrolls, family journals, temple inscriptions—anything that might contradict what she had seen and heard. There had to be a way out. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe the visions were just echoes of old stories that had seeped into her mind over the years.
Yet, the more she read, the more impossible it became to ignore.
Every legend spoke of the Keepers, of the Vanishing, of the temple’s hidden purpose. And then there was one passage, written in an old dialect, that sent a chill through her bones:
“The Keeper awakens when the land begins to forget. When the last flame dims, the one who hears the whispers must rekindle what was lost.”
Her hands shook as she traced the faded ink.
Was that what had happened when she touched the fire in the temple? Had she rekindled something?
No. It couldn’t be.
That night, she dreamt of the ruins again. But they were no longer ruins. The temple stood whole, its towering pillars stretching toward the sky. The golden light of a hundred oil lamps bathed the stone walls, and the scent of incense and flowers filled the air. She could hear the voices of the past—chants rising and falling like waves.
She stepped inside, drawn toward the heart of the temple.
And then she felt it.
Something moved in the shadows beyond the firelight. Something ancient. Something waiting.
A voice—deep and knowing—whispered her name.
Mira woke up breathless, tangled in her sheets, the imprint of the voice still ringing in her ears.
She sat up, pressing her hands to her face.
If she ignored this, if she turned her back on it, would it go away?
Would she be free?
Or had the choice already been made for her?
She had to return to the ruins.
