The rain thickened, but Maya didn't move.
The man — the creature — didn't either.
His silver eyes glowed faintly through the mist, locked on hers with an intensity that made her stomach tighten. Every instinct inside her screamed to run, to turn back, to get away from whatever this was.
But she stayed. Rooted. Watching him.
Then, slowly, the figure stepped back from the edge of the terrace. Just as unnaturally as he had appeared, he vanished behind the decaying wall.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Nothing.
Maya blinked, pulse still hammering in her ears. And as she thought about leaving the place, turning her steps away from the ruins and towards the road, a light tap landed on her shoulder.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned.
A young man stood behind her.
Tall and thin, maybe in his early twenties. His hoodie and pants were drenched, clinging to his lean frame. Strands of his dark hair clung to his forehead, and his sharp features gave him a kind of quiet, almost unintentional handsomeness. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch — not because of their colour or size, but the way they held her. Calm, steady, as if trying to read her like a half-burned page.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Just the sound of the rain between them.
Then Maya found her voice. "Who are you?"
The young man didn't blink. "That doesn't matter," he said, his voice smooth and low, but not cold. "What matters is — it's not safe for girls to be out here alone. Especially at this hour."
Maya narrowed her eyes slightly, her body tense. "You're telling me that after creeping up behind me?"
His lips curved — not quite a smile. "Fair point."
She looked him up and down, trying to assess whether he was dangerous, but something about his posture told her he wasn't. Not right now. Still, every nerve in her body was alert.
"You saw that guy?" she asked, glancing back at the ruins.
He didn't follow her gaze. "There's no one there."
"I'm not lying," she snapped.
"I didn't say you were," he said calmly, almost too gently. "Just saying… maybe you think there was someone. Or maybe… you wanted someone to be there."
She narrowed her eyes. "What are you, some kind of therapist? You think you're so smart? There was someone. I saw him. He wasn't human. He had—" she stopped herself, voice rising.
He raised an eyebrow, that faint trace of amusement still playing on his lips. "Long fangs? Glowing eyes? Maybe claws too?"
She clenched her jaw. "He had long fangs, yes! And—"
"Delulu, delulu," he interrupted, grinning, his head tilted slightly in playful mockery. "Go on though—complete the description. I'm invested."
Maya rolled her eyes and looked away. "I couldn't see his face though. But, he was completely shirtless, alright? Muscular, but not bulky. His skin looked... Forget it. You won't believe me anyway."
"Now that sounds sane," he teased.
She turned sharply to face him, a sharp retort ready on her tongue—
—but he was gone.
No footsteps. No rustling. No sound.
Just the rain.
Empty space where he stood seconds ago.
"Uh-" her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the spot. For a long moment, she didn't move. She didn't even blink.
Then, slowly, Maya stepped back, glancing around with growing unease.
This place was too strange. The man on the terrace. The boy in the hoodie. The way he vanished. Nothing felt real anymore.
And yet—somehow—it all did.
She gripped the handlebars tighter and began to pedal, slow at first, then faster — as if distance could muffle the chaos in her head.
"I'm not crazy. I saw him. Fangs, shirtless, not human. But he vanished like smoke. So either I'm insane… or something's very, very wrong."
The road curved ahead in soft silence. The rain had thinned, but the night still clung to everything like a cold second skin. She rode on — past shuttered mechanic shops and sleeping warehouses, where the outskirts slowly bled into the city's edge. The roads grew straighter, the lights brighter. Faint glows of apartment windows began to pierce the dark, and the faint hum of civilization crept back in like a heartbeat returning after shock.
Eventually, the ache in her legs forced her to stop. She found shelter under an underpass — quiet, smelling faintly of damp concrete. It wasn't comfortable, but it was dry.
Maya leaned her bicycle against the wall and sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees. The soft hum of water dripping from above was the only sound. Somewhere far off, a dog barked once, then went silent.
Her eyes stayed open.
Sleep, as always, came second to thought.
"What the hell am I even doing?"
Her chest ached, not from riding the bicycle — but from the weight of too many questions.
"Until now, I had lived believing there was no one in the world I could call a parent."
"She's dead. Probably. I had told myself."
"But now… when I'm 19, I came to know that maybe she's alive? What if it really was her in that photo? What if she looked me in the eye and walked away?"
"What kind of woman leaves her child at a temple?"
"What kind of mother just—abandons?"
Her throat tightened.
"Isn't it easier to mourn someone than to hate them?"
"I need answers," she muttered.
She pulled her bag close and curled up tighter, cheek against her arms, shivering under her damp jacket.
She closed her eyes.
Sleep took its time.
...
She woke with a jolt.
The world was still dark. The rain had stopped.
A gust of wind whispered past the edges of the underpass.. Her hand moved instinctively to her bag. She pulled out her phone.
3:32 AM.
She sighed. "Wow. Two whole hours of sleep. New record."
She sat up slowly, muscles stiff from sleep. In the soft blue light of her phone screen, she reached inside her bag again and pulled out the photograph.
The picture looked older in this light. Worn. Faded. But familiar.
"She's in here. One of them."
She stared at the woman in the middle for a while… then shifted her gaze.
"No. Not her. Any of them. I just want proof they're still here."
The idea formed slowly, like fog lifting.
"What if I use the divine vision?"
Her heart gave a small thud.
She hadn't used that ability in years — not since that evening in 10th grade, when she'd tested it from her terrace just to see how far it could go.
"About two kilometers. That's all it could reach then."
"But I was fifteen. Just a kid."
"I'm nineteen now. An adult. Maybe the power's stronger."
She tucked the photo carefully back into her bag, stood up and dusted herself off. "Fine. I gotta try. I need to."
She mounted the bicycle again, this time pedalling at a relaxed, steady pace. Not superspeed. Just normal. Human speed.
She closed her eyes briefly, inhaled deeply, and activated the sight. It was like viewing from a different, hidden lens, but from her own, very familiar eyes.
The world shifted.
It was subtle — not a light show, not a blast — but a quiet tuning of frequencies, like her mind was stretching its senses outward.
"Come on… show me something. Show me someone."
She focused.
Minutes passed. Unknown faces rolled by.
Then—
A pulse.
"Wait—"
A flicker. A face.
"It was the woman on the right."
Her image appeared sharp and sudden in Maya's mind — like a dream snapping into clarity.
"She's… somewhere bright. Music. People."
"A party?"
Maya felt the thrum of distant music. Not in her ears, but in her mind. Like she was tapping into a live feed from a life she didn't recognize.
The woman stood under strings of golden lights. People milled around her — gossiping, dancing, laughing.
"She's real."
"She's alive."
"And she's close."
She gripped the handlebars.
And smiled.