At dawn, her mother led Maral deep into the forest.


    Far from where the tribe had made their camp, far enough that no one would hear her cries.


    Maral knew this wasn’t a game.


    The shaman had said she was cursed.


    They didn’t want the little girl in the tribe anymore.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Her mother wept as she walked away, but Maral chased after her.


    She couldn’t keep up.


    Terrified of what was to come, she waited as darkness fell.


    That’s when Azmit came down from the trees, the one who owned the restless spirits.


    He had no face—just empty hollows where eyes should be.


    Azmit took his beloved daughter Maral’s hand.


    Together, they began the journey back to the tribe.


    This time, the shaman had been right.


    God help them all.