Introduction
In a city built on forgotten dreams and rising smoke, lived a young woman named Iria. She was not remarkable in the way stories often begin—no magical birth, no prophecy, no ancient lineage. She was remarkable because she chose not to give up.
Iria had been born into the fractured shadows of a once-thriving town called Nyera. Once known for its luminous streetlights and endless blue markets, Nyera had grown dim. Factories had shut down, laughter became a stranger, and people no longer waved when they passed each other in the street. The joy had drained out like paint washed from a wall.
At 22, Iria lived with her younger brother, Efe, in a small flat with peeling walls, and the ghost of their late parents' voices echoing in the halls. She worked long hours at a rundown call center that paid just enough to keep the lights flickering. Her dreams? They had been packed away in a dusty box labeled "someday."
But Iria had a strange habit—one that kept her just one breath ahead of despair.
Every morning before work, even if the sky was gray, she stood at the balcony, searching for one patch of blue. Even a sliver. Some days, there was none. Other days, just a whisper of light. But she'd stand there anyway, eyes lifted. "There's always something," she'd whisper. "Even if it hides."
📜 Chapter 1: The Whisper of the Mirror
One cold evening, Iria stumbled into a little curio shop at the edge of an alley she'd never noticed. The old man who owned it had white dreadlocks and eyes like stained glass. He didn't ask what she wanted—he handed her a mirror no bigger than her palm.
"This only shows light others cannot see," he said. "But once you learn to see it, it never leaves."
She laughed at first. Just a mirror. But that night, while brushing her teeth, she glanced into it and gasped—not at herself, but behind her. Her reflection showed her worn-down kitchen bathed in a soft glow, one that wasn't visible in real life. It lit up the dried sunflowers on the table, the one drawing Efe had made years ago, still pinned to the fridge.
From then on, Iria carried the mirror with her. It didn't solve her problems—but it made her notice things.
The old woman on the bus who hums softly to herself.
The father on the street teaching his daughter to tie her shoelaces.
The boy at the food stall who gave her extra stew without saying a word.
She began to see beauty like hidden messages scattered through her days...