PREVIEW

... t from outside. Not from the enemy's magic. But from within himself.

Fitran awakens in a transitional space she does not remember entering. The walls are not made of stone, not the result of magic, but have a warm texture—like a whisper from a loss she has never named. Amidst uncertainty and silence, waves of nostalgia flow with every heartbeat. Memories of the past, where happiness and sorrow intertwine, evoke a profound question: what is missing from her life?

Inside her chest, ...

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As I stare panicky at the dot unable to decide what to do, the white dot disappears and a line of text appears in its place.

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