Darkness.
Then... a sound.
Water dripping. A soft hum in the background. Garah’s eyes fluttered open to a dim, unfamiliar ceiling.
She sat up with a gasp, the cold metal bracelet still wrapped tightly around her wrist.
“Where am I?”
Not the library ruins. Not the school. This place looked… old. Like a forgotten chapel buried beneath time.
The stone walls were covered in ivy, and the air smelled of dust and lavender. Faintly glowing threads stretched from wall to wall—some broken, others vibrant—like a web spun by something ancient and knowing.
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Garah stood shakily. Every movement made the bracelet pulse softly, like it was alive.
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Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.
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A boy. About her age. Tall, sharp features, with silver-white hair that glowed faintly like moonlight. His eyes weren’t just looking at her—they were looking through her.
“You followed the thread,” he said.
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She took a step back. “Who are you? What is this place?”
He tilted his head. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
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Garah’s throat tightened. “Should I?”
He stepped closer, hands behind his back. “Not yet. But you will.”
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Before she could say another word, the bracelet on her wrist lit up.
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A surge of memories—flashes—screamed through her head.
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Her father’s voice.
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A string tied to her pinky finger, burning.
A boy crying, holding her hand in a storm.
A whisper: “If ever we forget, let the string find us again.”
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See clutched her head, gasping.
“What… what was that?”
The boy looked at her, gently this time. “Your truth.”
He raised his hand, and from his palm, a glowing string extended—thin but strong, connected to her chest.
“Everyone is born with a thread,” he said. “Some lead to people. Some to memories. Some to secrets. Yours… leads to everything that was taken from you.”
Garah wanted to speak—but her knees gave out. She fell, and this time, he caught her.
His voice was low. “You were never supposed to find this. But now that you have... things will begin to unravel.”
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Meanwhile, back in the real world…
“Garah? Garah!”
Zyreen knocked on the nurse’s office door. “Sir, she’s not here!”
Francisco frowned. “She vanished after class…”
Pearl scrolled through her phone. “You don’t think she ran away again, do you?”
But inside her camera roll—accidentally taken during class—was a photo of Garah.In the reflection of the window beside her...
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A glowing string.
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