The sun had barely warmed the floor tiles when Ayaan stepped outside.
The morning air held a stillness that didn't feel like peace—it felt paused. Like the world was waiting for something to move first. Something other than him.
His eyes drifted toward the trees lining the edge of his neighborhood, where the shadows never seemed to fade fully, even in daylight.
He hadn't told anyone about the feather.
It lay tucked in the notebook now—between pages that didn't belong to any date or memory. A strange warmth lingered in its fibers. Not hot, not cold. Just… present. As if it watched him as much as he watched it.
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and began walking. No destination. Just the need to move.
His feet led him to the old part of town. The part people didn't really talk about, unless they were warning kids not to wander there. But Ayaan wasn't a kid anymore.
The alleys narrowed as he walked. Bricks cracked. Vines crawled over forgotten walls. And then he saw her.
The same girl.
Sitting alone on a broken step, as if she'd been waiting.
She didn't smile. She didn't move.
"You followed me," he said.
"I didn't have to," she replied. Her voice was calm. Quiet. But it cut through the stillness like a thread snapping in a silent room. "You stepped over."
Ayaan frowned. "What does that even mean?"
She tilted her head. "You crossed a line that was meant to hold more than borders. You were warned. Now… something has noticed you."
He hesitated. "What noticed me?"
She looked away. "Not all things have names."
A beat passed. Two crows flew overhead, their caws sharp enough to scrape his nerves.
"You're one of them," Ayaan said. Not a question.
"No," she replied. "But I remember them."
A gust of wind swept between them, cold despite the rising sun.
She finally stood. In daylight, she looked no older than him. But her eyes… her eyes belonged to someone who had stood in forgotten places. Who had seen the silence breathe.
"You'll feel it soon," she said. "The shift. It starts small—objects moving, thoughts repeating, reflections not quite matching."
Ayaan's mouth felt dry. "Why me?"
She took a step back. "Because you didn't listen."
Then, without a sound, she turned into the alley and vanished—just like before. No footsteps. No trace.
Ayaan stood still for a moment, then slowly pulled out his phone. The screen was off. No signal. Again.
He turned to leave.
But something was different.
The air behind him felt close.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Nothing.
Just an empty alley and the soft echo of his own breath.
Yet as he walked away, he felt it—the same sensation from that night.
Not eyes on him… something deeper.
A knowing.
A reach.
And far above him, where the sky turned a shade too dark for the hour—
something watched.