Everything came alive with detail—the curves of tree bark, the soft ripple of leaves in the breeze, the faintest movement in the shadows.
It was like the darkness whispered to her.
And she could see clearly—as if the night had its own light, and only she could read it.
What Kaya didn't know—what no one had told her, what no mirror had shown her—was that her eyes were no longer just black.
A soft, subtle stroke of safari blue had appeared beside her pupils, like ink bleeding into the darkness. Just a faint outline… but it shimmered. Faint. Ethereal. Almost like moonlight caught in motion.
They glowed, just enough to be noticed if someone looked too closely in the dark.
Kaya narrowed her eyes at the vulture, watching it for another breath or two before slowly leaning back against the tree trunk. Her fingers still toyed with the cloth in her lap, but her thoughts were elsewhere now—turning over something that had been itching at the back of her mind for days.
