The night Anish first heard the whisper, the world around him was painfully ordinary.
A slow fan creaked above his head, pushing warm air across the small, dimly lit room. Outside, stray dogs barked at shadows, and somewhere far away, a train dragged its tired body across rusted tracks. Everything was the same as always—predictable, lifeless, and unbearably silent.
Anish sat by the window, staring into the darkness.
He wasn't waiting for anything.
At least, that's what he told himself.
There was something about the night that always made him feel... incomplete. Like a piece of him belonged somewhere else—a place he couldn't remember, yet couldn't forget either.
People often said he was "lost."
But Anish knew the truth.
He wasn't lost.
He just didn't belong.
A soft wind slipped through the broken edge of the window, brushing against his face like a cold hand. He didn't move. His eyes remained fixed on the sky—empty, starless, and heavy.
"Why does it feel like something is calling me...?"
He whispered it so quietly that even he barely heard it.
And then—
Something answered.
"Because it is."
Anish froze.
The voice wasn't loud. It wasn't even clear. It felt like it came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time—like it was inside his head, yet far beyond it.
He turned around sharply.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
The room remained unchanged. The door was closed. The walls stood still. Nothing moved.
He let out a slow breath and ran his hand through his hair.
"Great... now I'm imagining things."
But deep down, he knew he wasn't.
That voice—it didn't feel like a hallucination.
It felt real.
Too real.
Anish stood up and walked toward the mirror hanging on the wall. The glass was cracked slightly at the corner, distorting his reflection just enough to make it unsettling.
He stared at himself.
Dark eyes. Tired face. A boy who looked like he hadn't slept properly in years.
"Just me," he muttered.
But the reflection didn't respond the way it should.
For a brief second—
It smiled.
Anish stepped back instantly.
"What the—"
The reflection returned to normal.
His heart began to pound.
"No… no, I saw that."
He moved closer again, his breath uneven. His fingers trembled as he reached out, touching the cold surface of the mirror.
"Say something…"
Nothing happened.
But then—
A crack.
A thin, sharp line spread across the mirror, growing like a living thing. Another crack followed. Then another.
Within seconds, the entire surface was covered in fractures.
And from within those fractures—
Darkness began to leak out.
Not like smoke.
Not like shadow.
Something deeper.
Something alive.
Anish stumbled back, his eyes wide with fear.
"What is this…?"
The room grew colder.
The fan stopped.
The sounds outside disappeared.
It was as if the world itself had paused.
And then the voice returned.
"You were never meant to live that life."
This time, it was clearer.
Closer.
Right behind him.
Anish turned—
But no one was there.
"Who are you?!"
The darkness from the mirror stretched outward, forming thin, twisting strands that crawled across the floor toward him.
"You forgot us."
The voice carried a strange sadness.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Just… pain.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Anish shouted, backing away until his back hit the wall.
The shadows reached his feet.
Cold.
So cold it burned.
"You forgot your name."
Anish's breath caught.
"My name is Anish!"
"Is it?"
The question hit him harder than anything else.
For a moment—
He couldn't answer.
Something inside him shook.
A memory.
Broken.
Incomplete.
A name—
Not Anish.
Something else.
Something… older.
The shadows wrapped around his legs, pulling him toward the mirror.
"No—stop! Let me go!"
He tried to resist, grabbing onto the edge of the table, but the force was too strong.
"You don't belong here," the voice whispered.
"You belong to Tigren."
The word echoed in his mind.
Tigren.
As soon as he heard it, something changed.
The darkness in the mirror exploded into light.
Blinding.
Endless.
Anish screamed as he was pulled into it, his body dissolving into fragments of shadow and memory.
And then—
Silence.
When Anish opened his eyes, the world had changed.
The sky was not black.
It was deep crimson.
The ground beneath him was cold stone, covered in strange glowing symbols that pulsed like a heartbeat.
He slowly sat up, his head spinning.
"Where… am I?"
The air felt different.
Heavier.
Alive.
In the distance, towering structures stretched toward the sky—ruins of something ancient, something powerful.
And in the middle of it all—
A massive tree, black as night, with branches that seemed to reach into another world.
Anish stood up, his legs weak.
"This isn't real…"
But it was.
Every breath, every sound, every sensation screamed reality.
A soft voice spoke behind him.
"You finally came back."
Anish turned.
A girl stood there.
Her eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen—silver, glowing faintly in the crimson light. Her long dark hair moved gently, even though there was no wind.
There was sadness in her expression.
Deep, endless sadness.
"Who… are you?" Anish asked.
The girl looked at him like she had waited a lifetime for this moment.
"My name…" she paused, her voice trembling slightly,
"…is Zehrat."
The name felt familiar.
Painfully familiar.
"And you…" she stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his,
"…you left me here to die."
Anish's heart stopped.
"I… I don't even know you."
Zehrat smiled.
But it wasn't a happy smile.
It was the kind that hides heartbreak.
"That's the problem," she whispered.
"You don't remember anything."
The ground beneath them began to shake.
The symbols on the stone glowed brighter.
And from the shadows of the ruined world—
Something began to rise.
Something monstrous.
Something that had been waiting.
"For you," Zehrat said softly.
Anish turned toward the darkness, fear gripping his chest.
"What is that…?"
Zehrat's eyes filled with tears.
"That," she said,
"…is what you created."
End of Chapter 1