Chapter 1: Welcome Back, Star Child

Najma Kamaria stepped off the train, her senses bombarded by a strange mix of nostalgia and unease. The purple-tinged sky seemed to press down on her, its strange hue a constant reminder that something was off in her hometown. The ground underfoot had an unnatural bluish tint, but that wasn’t the worst of it. No, it was the overwhelming sense of wrongness that clung to everything—this place wasn’t how she remembered it. Ravenswood had always had a slightly eerie vibe, but now it was practically oppressive.

She adjusted her bag, a mix of determination and doubt swirling in her mind. Why had she returned? As a journalist, she'd been in plenty of strange places for the sake of a story, but coming back here? This felt different. A few days ago, a note had been mysteriously left at her apartment, no sender, no explanation—just a vague warning about "strange sightings" back home. It seemed like a flimsy reason to come back, but the specifics of the message, mentioning her family, had rattled her.

Najma scanned the small train station. Her childhood friend Yoko Fukusha was supposed to meet her, but as usual, she was late. Typical Adachi, Najma thought with a small grin. She pulled out her phone, typing quickly:

Najma: Hey, I'm here, where are you?????

Yoko: Gmas, I'm searching for you.

Najma: K, I'm gonna find where to sit 👍🏿

Najma tucked her phone back into her jacket pocket and scanned her surroundings. Her legs were already starting to strain so it would be best if she sat down. After a brief search, she spotted an open seat.

"Oh, there's one!" she thought, a flicker of relief crossing her face. She started walking toward the empty chair, but just as she was about to reach it, a tap on her shoulder halted her.

Najma turned around to find a middle-aged man wearing a hat and sporting a neatly trimmed goatee. He had the look of a businessman, with a tailored suit and a briefcase in hand. He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Are you new to town?" he asked, his voice too cheerful for this eerie setting.

"No, actually, I—" Najma began, but he cut her off with practiced ease.

“This is a wonderful town, full of opportunities,” he said, his words flowing like a rehearsed sales pitch. “I’ve been here for years, and let me tell you, there’s no place quite like it.”

Najma blinked, already suspicious. Her journalist brain automatically kicked into gear: Too eager. Probably trying to sell me something. What’s his angle?

“That’s nice, but I’m actually—” she started again, but he was already flipping open his briefcase, revealing several bottles of clear water.

"Specially formulated to make plants grow faster," he beamed. “A Miracle in a bottle!”

“Ah, here we go,” Najma thought. She eyed the bottles with a mix of disbelief and growing frustration.

She crossed her arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Water? That’s your Miracle?”

The man's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. “It’s not just any water. This is scientifically enhanced, designed to—”

Najma didn’t let him finish. “Plants don’t need bottled water. They need sunlight, air, soil, and nutrients. Your little pitch is a scam, and you know it.”

His eyes flickered with a hint of panic, but he held onto his sales patter. “I don’t think you understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Najma interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "You’re trying to con me into buying overpriced tap water, calling it a Miracle because the town has some weird reputation."

There was a beat of silence between them, and Najma could see the cracks forming in his confident façade. His eyes darted nervously to the people around them, who were conveniently pretending not to notice the scene.

"Look, lady, I’m just trying to make a living," the man said, his tone hardening. His grip on the briefcase tightened as if he expected Najma to walk away.

“Yeah, by scamming people,” she shot back, taking a step closer, voice low but firm. “Do you even live here? Because the way you’re acting is a little too ‘outsider salesman.’ You’re pushing too hard, which means you’re desperate.”

The man's expression darkened as Najma’s words hit home. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her arm. His grip was tight, too tight, and his friendly demeanor was entirely gone.

“Hey, let go!” Najma hissed, her eyes narrowing as she instinctively pulled back.

“I’m not letting go until you buy this!” the man snapped, his tone now hostile. The sudden shift in his attitude made Najma's heart race. Before she could process what was happening, her eyes flickered—literally. She felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins, and for a split second, her vision pulsed with light. Her body moved on instinct, pushing him away with more force than she intended. He stumbled back, his briefcase clattering to the ground.

Najma froze. She hadn’t meant to push him that hard. The man glared at her, his face red with anger and embarrassment. “You’re gonna regret that, girl,” he growled, straightening up. His eyes flashed a sickly green, and a faint aura of energy shimmered around him.

The salesman’s eyes flickered with a sickly green light, and before Najma could react, heat flared in his hands.

Fire Miracle, just my luck.

Najma sidestepped instinctively as a ball of flame shot toward her, barely missing by inches. She grimaced, realizing she was in a tight spot. Fighting here, in a crowded train station, was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Back off, old man,” Najma warned, her voice steady, even as she backed away to put some distance between them.

I can’t fight in here. Too many people, too many eyes.

But the salesman wasn’t having it. He hurled another fireball in her direction, his grin widening as the flames reflected in his crazed eyes. Najma ducked low, the heat of the blast grazing her cheek. Her muscles tensed, instinct screaming at her to fight back, but she resisted. The last thing she needed was to cause more damage.

I can take this guy... but not here, not now.

“Should’ve just bought the damn water,” the man sneered, advancing on her with slow, deliberate steps. His hands crackled with energy as small flames danced in his palms, ready to strike again.

Najma’s heart pounded, her body poised for action. She was a fighter, trained to handle situations like this, but the station was crowded. She couldn’t afford to lose control and hurt someone. Her eyes darted around—too many bystanders, too many distractions. I need to get out of here.

As she continued dodging, the situation escalated. The salesman, growing impatient with her evasiveness, sent a larger, wild fireball straight toward the crowd behind her.

Najma’s eyes widened as the flaming projectile veered off course, heading straight for a woman who stood frozen in shock. Time seemed to slow. The people around her weren’t reacting fast enough.

Damn it.

Without a second thought, Najma dropped low, her hand snapping out toward the ground. In an instant, thick vines burst from the floor, surging forward like striking serpents. They wrapped around the woman’s waist, pulling her out of harm’s way just as the fireball slammed into the wall behind her, sending a wave of heat and ash into the air.

The woman stumbled, wide-eyed, but unharmed. Najma released the vines, her gaze snapping back to the salesman, who now looked furious.

“You’re crazy!” Najma shouted, stepping toward him, her frustration finally breaking through. “Do you even care about the people around you? You could’ve killed her!”

The man’s grin faltered for a moment, but the flickering flames in his hands didn’t waver. “Doesn’t matter,” he snarled. “You’re gonna burn either way.”

Najma’s jaw clenched. She was at a disadvantage here—he had the range, and she couldn’t risk going all out without endangering others.

Think, Najma. Think!

But her mind raced in every direction, searching for a solution. The crowd wasn’t helping. People were gathering closer, too curious or too stunned to move away. I can’t fight him here. I can’t just—

The salesman hurled another blast of fire at her, and Najma barely dodged, her feet skidding on the tiled floor. I’m running out of time.

Her mind spun with the possibilities, but none of them felt right. She couldn’t fight back without risking the crowd, and she couldn’t leave without making herself a target.

The salesman’s eyes burned with rage as another fireball flickered to life in his palms, larger and more erratic than the ones before. Najma’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the heat radiating from the flames, and she knew she couldn’t dodge this one. There wasn’t enough time.

“Crap!” she muttered, bracing herself, arms raised in front of her face. The fireball shot toward her, and for a split second, Najma felt the searing heat, ready to consume her—

Then, nothing.

She opened her eyes cautiously, blinking through the haze of smoke, and realized the fireball had... disappeared? The flames had vanished mid-air, fizzling out like a dying ember. Confusion washed over her as she lowered her arms, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The man, oblivious to the unseen force controlling him, began moving erratically. His arms flailed wildly, as if rebelling against his own will, slapping himself and stumbling over his feet. The spectacle was ridiculous—like he was performing a bizarre one-man comedy routine—and the crowd quickly took notice, murmurs of confusion spreading among the onlookers.

As the man’s struggle continued, a figure emerged from the crowd. Dressed in a large jacket with a hood pulled low over their face, the newcomer exuded a quiet confidence that immediately commanded attention. They walked toward the scene with purpose, each step measured.

The hooded figure stopped beside the man, who was still thrashing uselessly, and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Well, well, well, look what we’ve got here, Inspector,” the newcomer said, their voice dripping with mockery. Without waiting for a response, they casually reached into the man’s pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open with practiced ease.

“John White?” The hooded figure snorted, their lips curling in amusement. “Wow, I’d never show my face around here if I had such an average-ass name.”

Najma watched, wide-eyed, as the stranger taunted the man with casual disregard. Then, without warning, the figure delivered a swift kick to the back of the man’s legs, sending him crashing to the ground. The surreal nature of the encounter escalated as the hooded stranger bent down, grabbed the man by his hair, and locked eyes with him. A menacing purple aura swirled around their gaze, giving them an almost otherworldly presence.

The man’s bravado crumbled instantly. Najma could see it in his eyes—the sheer terror at being so completely overpowered. For a moment, she almost felt bad for him. Almost. After all, he had harassed her in front of a crowd and nearly burned an innocent woman with his reckless Miracle.

With a snap of the hooded figure’s fingers, the purple aura dissipated, and the man’s body slumped. He stumbled to his feet, his eyes wide with fear, now fully in control of his limbs again. Without another word, he turned and bolted, his panicked cries echoing through the train station as he fled.

The eerie hush that followed was thick with tension. The gathered crowd, once captivated by the bizarre spectacle, now seemed unsure of what they had just witnessed. Amid the silence, the hooded figure turned their attention to Najma, their movements calm and unhurried.

“Yo, curly hair, you alright?” the figure called out, their voice cutting through the lingering quiet like a casual greeting between old friends.

Najma blinked, still processing what had just happened. Her gaze locked on the hooded figure as they approached. As they got closer, Najma recognized the familiar features beneath the hood: wild short black hair with a small spiraling yellow clip, two long side bangs framing her face, and deadpan, blank yellow eyes that always looked a little too calm for comfort.

“Yoko?”

The girl froze for a moment, clearly shocked. Her expression shifted from confusion to sudden realization as she slowly pulled down her hood.

“Najma?!” the hooded girl exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief. Najma felt a surge of relief as she recognized the voice. It was Yoko Fukusha—her childhood friend.

Without warning, Yoko lunged forward, wrapping Najma in a tight hug, nearly squeezing the breath out of her. “It’s really you!” she said, her voice cracking with excitement.

Najma, though surprised by the sudden embrace, couldn’t help but notice how different Yoko looked compared to how she remembered her.

“Yoko!” Najma laughed, gently prying herself free. “You look so different now—more... tomboyish?”

Yoko rolled her eyes playfully, her usual cool attitude shining through. “I’ve always been like this, you colossal dumbass,” she teased, ruffling Najma’s curly hair without hesitation. “Though, you’ve changed too. What’s up with the bandana and all this fluff?”

Najma groaned, half-laughing as she tried—and failed—to swat Yoko’s hand away. “Hey, stop messing with my hair! It took forever to fix!”

Yoko only grinned wider, continuing to tousle it until Najma’s curls were even more chaotic. “Looks better this way,” she said with a wink. “You need a little chaos in your life, anyway.”

Najma couldn’t help but smile, her frustration melting away. “I missed you,” she admitted, her voice softening as she playfully pushed Yoko’s hand away. “You idiot.”

Yoko chuckled, her grin spreading. “I missed you too, jerk. And your terrible insults.” She playfully punched Najma on the arm, the familiar banter flowing easily between them.

As their laughter died down, Najma became aware of the crowd still gathered around them. People were whispering and casting curious glances in their direction. One person even muttered something about calling security.

Yoko’s eyes darted around, realizing they were drawing way too much attention. “Uh, Najma... I think it’s time we made ourselves scarce,” she whispered urgently, leaning in.

Najma nodded, her voice equally quiet. “Yeah, good call.”

Just as they turned to leave, Yoko’s sharp gaze caught sight of a security guard making their way through the crowd, clearly coming toward them. “Crap, security. We gotta move. Now.”

Without waiting for a response, Yoko grabbed Najma by the wrist and bolted toward the exit. They weaved through the crowd as fast as they could, ducking past onlookers and dodging any lingering attention.

They burst through the station doors and sprinted down the street, leaving the confused and startled onlookers behind them.

Once they were a safe distance away, Yoko slowed to a walk, panting. She let go of Najma’s wrist, shaking her head. “What the hell, Najma? You’ve been back in town for, what, five minutes, and you’re already in trouble?”

Najma gave a breathless laugh. “It’s good to be home.”

The drive toward Najma’s childhood home felt longer than it should have. The road stretched out, flanked by rows of trees, their twisted branches casting strange, eerie shadows in the fading light. Yoko drove in relative silence, though every now and then she stole a glance at Najma, who sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

Finally, they pulled up in front of Najma’s old house—a modest, two-story building that hadn’t changed much since she’d left. The paint was chipped, the windows slightly fogged, and the front yard was overgrown with weeds. It looked forgotten, like time had passed it by.

Yoko parked the car and leaned back in her seat. “So... this is it, huh? Home sweet home.”

Najma nodded, though her expression was distant. “Yeah. The movers are supposed to bring my stuff tomorrow,” she said, still staring at the house as if it held answers she wasn’t ready to confront yet. “I’ll be fine tonight, though. There’s a mattress in the attic I can sleep on for now.”

Yoko glanced over at her. “You sure? I can stay tonight if you want. Not like I have anywhere better to be.”

Najma shook her head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just need you to come back tomorrow, help me get everything set up. Besides, I could use the night to... settle in, I guess.”

Yoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Alright, but you call me if anything weird happens. Like, anything. You hear one of those floorboards creak, I’m on speed dial.”

Najma smiled faintly, appreciating the offer, but her gaze drifted to the left, across the road, where the small, crumbling church stood. The sight of it sent an uncomfortable chill down her spine. Bad memories.

She hadn’t thought about the church in years, but now, seeing it again, the memories came rushing back—dark, unsettling memories of times she’d spent there, times she wished she could forget. Her jaw clenched as she quickly looked away, trying to shake off the feeling.

Yoko noticed. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since we pulled up.”

Najma blinked, shaking herself out of the moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... remembering some old stuff.”

Yoko followed her gaze to the church, her brows furrowing. “That place? Something happen there?”

Najma hesitated, the memories still too raw to talk about. “It’s nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just... old stuff. Let’s get inside.”

Yoko didn’t push further, but Najma could feel her friend’s eyes on her as they both stepped out of the car. She grabbed her bag from the backseat and headed toward the front door, keys in hand.

The air felt heavy as they approached the house, the kind of weight that comes from long-abandoned spaces. Najma unlocked the door and pushed it open, the hinges creaking loudly in the stillness. The inside smelled faintly of dust and disuse, and the dim light from outside barely reached beyond the entryway.

“Wow,” Yoko said, stepping in behind her. “Place is... well, not gonna lie, it looks like a horror movie set.”

Najma snorted. “Yeah, thanks for that.” She flicked on a light, and the old bulb flickered to life, casting a weak glow over the front hall. “It’ll be better once my stuff gets here.”

Yoko glanced around, eyeing the worn furniture and the staircase that led up to the second floor. “If you say so. Just make sure none of those horror movie tropes come true while you’re here.”

Najma rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved herself. The house had always had a strange energy, even when she was a kid. Maybe it was the memories, or maybe it was something else. Either way, she was here now, and she had to face it.

“I’ll be fine,” Najma said, more to herself than to Yoko. “Just... come back tomorrow, okay?”

Yoko gave her a mock salute. “Sure thing, detective. Try not to get haunted before then.”

Najma chuckled softly, though her eyes drifted one last time to the church across the way. She could still feel the weight of those bad memories hanging over her, but she shoved them aside, focusing instead on the present.

Yoko clapped her on the back as she turned to leave. “Alright, call me if anything goes down. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Yoko,” Najma said, her voice quieter now, watching as her friend hopped back into the car and drove off down the road, leaving her alone in the house.

Najma stood there for a moment, taking in the silence. The familiar creaks of the house settling echoed in the background, but it was otherwise still. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly.

The creaking of the door as Najma softly clicked it shut told of the chill outside in the hallway; inside, the air was stale and cool from years without use. Dim softness flowed from the single light above to illume the room barely, to the edge of the space where corners seemed much darker than they actually were.

Najma moved wordlessly through the house, her bare feet mute on the hardwood floor. Past the living room, then the kitchen, not looking either way out into the stairway to the second floor, she mounted the stairs, her hand grazing the railing-smooth as silk beneath her fingers, the result of years of rubbing of hands upon it.

She paused on the top stair and looked down the hall. It was laid out the same, the door into her old bedroom standing on the left, the door slightly ajar, just the way she had left it when she'd come briefly to prepare for her return. It was not her old bedroom which caught her attention now, however.

The door into the room beside hers was wide open.

Najma's gaze remained riveted for a while upon the bare doorway, since the room beyond was dark, and in the shadow, nothing was visible but the slightest outline of furniture. Long afterwards, she had not moved, her gaze fastened upon the threshold as if at any moment something should step across it.

And with that, it was ages, finally, as she had walked way further ahead down the path. She reached for the door handle and tugged the door shut; there was a soft click of the latch in the quiet.

She remained there, with her hand fixed on the handle, for another long moment. Then, with an expression silent as a stone wall, she turned, went into her room, slammed the door, and shut it.

The house was quiet again.

The next morning, Najma heard the familiar roar of Yoko’s car pulling up in the driveway. She peeked through the curtains and saw her friend waving as she hopped out of the car with a bag of takeout in one hand and her signature casual swagger.

Najma opened the door with a grin. “You brought breakfast?”

Yoko smirked, holding up the bag. “Of course. Figured you probably haven’t had anything decent to eat since you got here.”

They settled into the half-furnished living room, the smell of fresh food filling the air. Najma tore into her sandwich, while Yoko leaned back against the couch, stretching her legs out. The morning sun filtered in through the dusty windows, casting a soft glow over the room. For a moment, it almost felt like old times.

“So,” Yoko began between bites, “what’s it like being back?”

Najma shrugged, swallowing a bite of her food. “Weird. I mean, everything’s pretty much the same, but it feels different, you know? Like... I don’t know if it’s just me, or if this place is creepier than I remember.”

Yoko chuckled. “It’s definitely creepier. But hey, you’re back just in time for the weirdness, huh? There’s been a lot of strange stuff going on since you left.”

Najma raised an eyebrow. “Strange stuff?”

“Yeah,” Yoko said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? The dead coming back to life, all that freaky stuff.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “People have been talking about seeing shadows at night, weird noises coming from the woods, and of course... the church.”

Najma’s eyes flicked toward the window, where she could just make out the outline of the old church across the road. It still gave her the same bad feeling it had when she was a kid. “What about the church?”

Yoko shrugged, though there was something serious in her tone. “It’s been... empty. Like, really empty. No one goes there anymore, not even for services. I’ve walked by a few times, and it’s always dead quiet. It’s weird because the place used to be packed on Sundays, right? Now, it’s like people just avoid it. Almost like they’re afraid.”

Najma frowned, memories of her uneasy childhood visits to the church flooding back. “Afraid of what?”

Yoko shook her head, leaning back. “Beats me. Maybe it’s nothing, but it gives me the creeps. There’s just something off about it.”

Najma nodded slowly. She had always felt uncomfortable around the church, but she had never really known why. Now that she was back, the memories were sharper, and they nagged at her. Something about that place had always felt wrong, and now it seemed like the rest of the town was starting to notice too.

Yoko shifted gears, her eyes narrowing in thought as she glanced at Najma. “Speaking of weird, though... your Miracle. It feels different. I mean, I haven’t seen you use it since we were kids, but I swear it’s not the same.”

Najma raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Yoko said, waving her hands vaguely. “It’s like... it feels more intense. Like it’s stronger or something. You felt it when you pushed that guy back at the station, right?”

Najma thought about it for a second, the memory of her strange glowing eyes flashing in her mind. “Yeah, but I figured it was just adrenaline or something. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ve just... matured, I guess.”

Yoko gave her a skeptical look but didn’t press the issue. “If you say so, but I’d keep an eye on it. Miracles don’t just ‘change’ for no reason.”

Najma waved her off, though Yoko’s words lingered in her mind. The Miracle felt different, but she didn’t want to think about it too much. She had bigger things to worry about.

Yoko took another bite of her food, then looked back toward the church, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, speaking of investigating... maybe we should check out the church. You know, for your little ‘mystery-solving’ mission.”

Najma shot her a look. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not going in there.”

Yoko grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Oh, come on! It’s practically begging to be investigated. You said you’re here to look into the strange stuff, right? What better place to start than the creepy, abandoned church across the street?”

Najma hesitated, glancing toward the window. She didn’t like the idea of going back into that place, but Yoko wasn’t wrong. If there was something strange happening in town, the church could be connected. Still, her gut told her to avoid it.

“I don’t know,” Najma said, fidgeting with her hands. “That place... it gives me bad vibes.”

Yoko leaned forward, her grin widening. “Bad vibes are where the best stories come from. You’re a journalist, Najma. If there’s something going on in this town, don’t you want to find out?”

Najma sighed. Yoko was right—again. Her curiosity was starting to get the better of her, even though every instinct told her to stay away. She hated that Yoko knew exactly how to push her buttons.

“Fine,” Najma muttered, standing up and grabbing her jacket. “But if something horrible happens in there, I’m blaming you.”

Yoko laughed, hopping up and following her to the door. “Deal. I’ll take the blame. Now, let’s go find out what’s hiding in that creepy old church.”

Najma took one last look at the house before stepping outside. The morning air was cool, but the sun was shining, casting long shadows over the road as they crossed toward the church. As they approached, Najma’s unease grew, but she pushed it aside. She had to know.

Later that afternoon, the air was thick with anticipation as Najma and Yoko approached the old, crumbling church. Its once proud spire now awkwardly bent forward, as if in obedience to the weight of time. The stained glass windows were cracked and admitted fractured beams of sunlight. The wood doors were weathered; ivy crawled up the sides of the building, giving it an eerie, forgotten quality.

Najma stood outside of the church, her hands perched on her hips, a sideways glance thrown at Yoko. "You said it was practically empty? It's practically falling apart in here," she muttered.

Yoko shrugged, unfazed. “What? I didn’t say it was in good condition, just that no one ever goes here. Empty, abandoned—it’s all the same.”

Najma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, because that's normal. Suggest we sneak into some broken-down, creepy church.

With that, the two hopped over the rusty, half-collapsed fence. Najma winced as her feet hit the ground, crunching the dry grass beneath her boots. In front of them was the church, whose doors were creaked open and invited them in with a sort of sinister calmness.

It was worse inside the church than outside it: the air inside was thick with dust, the smell of mildew overpowering; pews were broken, lying helter-skelter; strange patterns of colored light stained the dirt floor as evidence of the stained-glass windows. The once great altar was overturned, gaping holes in the ceiling letting shafts of light down.

She scrunched her nose the farther in she stepped. "This is a mess. Let's make this quick."

Yoko pressed on ahead, unbothered by the ruin. "Dont worry about it, its only a building.

As they walked, Najma's eyes looked around. There was something about the place that didn't feel right, more than its abandonment. It was the dark stain on the tattered carpet beneath her feet that finally made her steps falter-blood.

She froze; something about the sight really set off a long-buried memory nagging at the back of her mind. An image of blood upon the floor was disturbingly familiar, but before she could wrap her head around it completely, Yoko called out.

“Hey, Najma! Get over here! I think I found something.”

Najma dismissed the creeping thoughts and hastened her pace to Yoko, who sat crouched by the back wall, her fingers grazing a piece of paper on the floor. She hunched down beside Najma, intrigued.

“What is it?”

Yoko held up a torn piece of parchment. “Pages. Looks like someone ripped them out of something and left a trail.”

Najma picked one up, studying the frayed edges. Her heart beat a little as she realized what it was-a page from a Bible. The verse was blurred by the dirt, but she managed to decipher a part of it:

"And the child of the stars shall descend, marked by the divine, and from his birth, great sorrow shall follow."

As she read it, Najma felt her brow furrow in a frown, a shiver running down her spine. The verse-it sounded eerily like something she had read before, something connected with the very legends she had been researching, The God of Stars... and the prophecy of the star child.

She carefully folded the page and slipped it into her pocket. “Weird,” she muttered, glancing at Yoko. “It’s like they left this here on purpose.”

Yoko stood up, dusting off her hands. “Well, let’s follow the trail and see where it leads.”

The two of them followed the scattered pages, which formed a crude path through the ruined church. Each page had similar verses ripped from the Bible, all hinting at divine punishment, lost children, and cryptic prophecies. The further they went, the heavier the air became, and Najma’s unease grew with every step.

Eventually, they reached a large, imposing door at the far end of the church. Its surface was smooth, and it stood out, almost too pristine for the dilapidated surroundings. Najma frowned, tilting her head.

“Was this here before?” she asked, glancing at Yoko.

Yoko shook her head. “Nope. I’ve been by this place a couple of times, and I swear this door wasn’t here before.”

Najma’s instinct screamed at her to leave it alone, to call it quits right there and get out while they still could. “I don’t know, Yoko. Maybe we should leave this alone.”

Yoko gave her an incredulous look. “Are you serious? We came all this way, and now you want to back out? You’re the one who’s supposed to be investigating weird stuff, remember?”

Najma sighed, feeling the weight of Yoko’s words. She was right. This was why she came back. She had to follow through. “Fine,” she relented. “But if this goes south, it’s your fault.”

Yoko smirked. “Always is.”

They approached the door, and Yoko tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Locked,” she said, stepping back.

Najma stepped forward, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the door. “I’ve got this.” Closing her eyes, she focused, reaching deep into the part of herself where her Miracle resided.

Slowly, vines began to grow from the cracks in the floor, snaking toward the lock. With a flick of her wrist, the vines twisted delicately into the keyhole, working with practiced precision. After a few seconds, there was a soft click, and the door creaked open.

Najma exhaled, stepping back as the door swung open, revealing a pitch-black void beyond. The darkness was unnaturally thick, swallowing up the weak light that spilled in from the ruined church.

“Well, that’s inviting,” Yoko said dryly.

Najma pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the flashlight app. “I’ll light the way. Let’s just get this over with.”

But before she could turn on the light, the floor beneath them suddenly gave way.

Najma gasped as her body was yanked downward, and she felt the air rush past her. The world turned black as they plunged into the unknown, the floor disappearing beneath their feet.

She tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed by the void, and everything faded into darkness.