The morning sunlight filtered softly through the cracked window, casting warm, golden beams across the room. The air inside was thick with exhaustion, heavy with the scent of sweat and iron. Every face bore the marks of a long, grueling night—drawn features, weary eyes, and trembling limbs. The silence was dense, broken only by the low murmur of voices weighed down by worry and frustration.
The Hero's voice cut through the stillness, grim and tired. "The chains... they mock us. No matter what we do, they heal again, as if laughing at our efforts. Everything feels useless, like we're fighting shadows that never fade."
Around him, nods of grim agreement rippled through the group. The weight of their failure pressed down on them all, but none more so than Salim. Her shoulders trembled with silent sobs, tears tracing wet paths down her cheeks. I'm useless, she thought, voice breaking as she whispered aloud, "I can't even help my daughter. I don't know what kind of pain she's feeling... and I don't know how my baby can live trapped in that strange, unyielding outfit."
For a fleeting moment, Nadira's body twitched—a small, almost imperceptible movement. But it was enough. Every pair of eyes snapped toward her, hearts tightening with a fragile thread of hope. Relief flickered briefly across their faces, fragile as morning dew.
Yazid and the Hero exchanged a glance, their minds racing with thoughts of how Nadira might behave when she finally woke. Leonel's voice broke in, steady and practical. "I know everyone wants to see her, but we need to clean this mess before she wakes."
At his words, the room sprang into quiet motion. Hands moved swiftly, clearing away bloodied cloths and scattered tools. Salim knelt beside Nadira, her touch gentle as she wiped the blood from her daughter's hand with a soft cloth, careful not to disturb her fragile form.
Once the room was cleared, they lifted Nadira with utmost care and laid her on the bed. One by one, the others slipped quietly out of the room, leaving only Salim sitting close by. Her eyes never left her daughter's pale face as she waited, silently willing Nadira to open her eyes.
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The soft morning light streamed gently into Nadira's eyes, coaxing her from the depths of unconsciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the brightness as her gaze roamed the room with tentative curiosity. The familiar shapes of the bed and walls came into focus, but it was the figure sitting close by that drew her attention—her mother, Salim.
Nadira's eyes locked onto Salim's face, where deep concern was etched into every line. The worry in her mother's eyes was raw and unyielding, a silent plea wrapped in love.
Salim noticed Nadira's awakening and leaned closer, her voice soft and soothing. "Are you okay? Do you feel any pain? If you have any nightmares, you can always tell your mom."
Nadira shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "No."
Still cautious, Salim pressed on, her tone thick with care. "You didn't feel uncomfortable or uneasy because of these chains, did you?"
Nadira's gaze dropped to her hands, where the thorny chains still clung tightly. A faint wince flickered across her face as she touched them, the barbs pricking her skin like unwelcome reminders. Yet now, the chains felt less like foreign shackles and more like a part of her body—an uncomfortable extension rather than mere accessories.
It still stings, she thought, but it's becoming... part of me.
"No, Mom. Worry too much about me. I'm okay." Her small hands reached up, trembling slightly, and gently brushed Salim's cheek. "Just care about yourself. I don't like seeing your face like this."
Salim blinked back tears, her fingers trembling as she wiped her own face with a soft cloth. "What do you want to eat today? I can make something for you."
Nadira didn't answer. Instead, she rose slowly, her movements tentative but determined, and stepped out of the bedroom.
Her breath caught in surprise as she saw her grandfather and a guest standing nearby. But most of all, her heart steadied when she spotted her father, Yazid—safe and back home. Relief blossomed quietly within her chest, a fragile warmth amid the lingering shadows.
As Nadira emerged, everyone greeted her warmly, "Good morning, Nadira."
She didn't reply. Without a word, she moved toward her morning tasks—cleaning and preparing for the day ahead—her mind quietly gathering strength for what lay ahead.
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Nadira stepped into the bathroom, the cool tiles grounding her as she prepared for her morning routine. She reached to remove the strange outfit clinging to her body, but to her growing alarm, it refused to come off. Panic fluttered in her chest as she tugged and pulled, but the fabric held firm, unyielding.
Her breath hitched, heart pounding in her ears.Why won't it come off? she wondered, a rising tide of fear tightening her throat.
Then, as if sensing her distress, the outfit began to shift and change. The rigid armor softened and transformed, reshaping itself into delicate, beautiful forms—a necklace adorned her neck, bracelets encircled her wrists, and even her shoes morphed into elegant slippers. Relief washed over Nadira as the heavy burden lifted, replaced by these graceful adornments. She could move freely now.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she began to clean herself, the warm water soothing her skin as it washed away the remnants of the night. Each splash was a small comfort, a momentary escape from the confusion swirling in her mind. Once the usual tasks were done, she stepped fully into the bath, letting the water envelop her.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed softly inside her mind.
"Hey, little girl, are you okay now?"
Nadira remained silent, her thoughts guarded, wary of the presence.
The voice persisted gently, "Don't ignore me. I'm just thinking about your happiness."
Still, Nadira said nothing.
"Okay," the voice continued, I think you're angry because the first time you wore the outfit, it overwhelmed you. It enhances your body, changes you to grow stronger—stronger than any Earth native. But with training, you can control it. So just forget about the fear."
Nadira didn't respond, finishing her bath in quiet contemplation.
When she tried to change her clothes again, nothing happened—the outfit remained unchanged. Frustration crept in as she wondered how to revert it back. How can I change it back? she thought, forgetting that the new form was actually better suited to her.
Then she remembered she could call her mother for help.
Before she could act, the voice reassured her, "Don't worry."
Slowly, the outfit shifted back to its normal form, soft and familiar once more.
Nadira let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, grateful for the small mercy.
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Everyone waited quietly around the table, their eyes occasionally drifting toward the bathroom door, wondering how Nadira was faring. Thoughts swirled in their minds—how could they make her feel safe and comforted after all she had endured? The weight of their concern was palpable, yet they hoped to bring a moment of lightness to the morning.
When Nadira finally emerged, the room fell into a hush. Her clothes were perfectly dry, not a single wrinkle or damp spot to be seen. A silent question hung in the air—how had she managed to bathe without removing the outfit? No one dared to ask, respecting her privacy.
"Nadira, come here," Salim called gently, her voice warm and inviting. "Where would you like to sit? On your mother's side or your grandfather's?"
Nadira moved slowly, her steps tentative but steady, and chose to sit close to Salim. The table was spread with simple morning fare—the aroma of fresh bread, warm tea, and ripe fruit mingling softly in the air. As everyone began to eat, Salim reached out with a tender smile. "Let me help you, my little cutie. Eat a little."
Nadira shook her head softly, her voice quiet but firm. "No, I can eat on my own."
Salim nodded, understanding the challenge the chains might pose but unwilling to make Nadira feel helpless. The room filled with gentle chatter, stories and light jokes weaving through the conversation, a fragile attempt to lift spirits in a world weighed down by hardship.
Leonel leaned forward, his eyes kind. "Hello, Nadira. My name is Leonel. You can be my friend."
Before Nadira could respond, the Hero interrupted with a teasing grin. "What are you saying to my cute granddaughter? Nadira, you can call Leonel grandpa too—he's my friend. You can't make a friend like him anywhere else!"
Laughter rippled around the table, warm and genuine. Salim caught sight of Nadira's face—it glowed faintly, a small, unconscious smile softening her features. Nadira felt the care and effort surrounding her, a quiet balm to her guarded heart.
Suddenly, the cheerful moment was pierced by the sharp ring of the Hero's phone. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening as he answered.
"There's someone coming into our area," he said gravely. "We have to leave now."
He tried to delay their departure, but the urgency was undeniable.
Turning to the group, he announced, "Nadira's grandpa and Leonel need to go now. But don't worry, we'll come back once our work is done. You're always welcome to visit us. I'm sad to leave my little cutie behind."
They rose and moved toward the door. As they stepped outside, the sound of armor being donned filled the air, a stark reminder of the dangers waiting beyond.
Nadira called after them, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "Don't worry. I'll come to see you, Grandpa. Don't think too much about me, okay?"
The house fell silent once they left. Salim turned to Nadira, her voice soft but firm. "Your grandpa isn't here now, so come sit with me. Let's talk."
Nadira nodded quietly. "Mom."
Then, breaking the stillness, the familiar voice echoed inside Nadira's mind once more.
Hey, little girl, your first mission is now available. Let's go out for training. I recommend you don't tell your parents.
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Nadira lay still for a moment, the mysterious voice whispering again inside her mind, urging her to embark on her first mission. But she resisted, her thoughts swirling with doubt and a fierce need for reassurance. I can't just leave without telling Mom and Dad, she insisted silently.
Summoning her courage, Nadira approached her parents, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "Mom, Dad, I need to go outside. I have a mission."
Salim's eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing her face. "No, Nadira, why do you want to go out all of a sudden? If you told your grandpa, he would take you safely. But now... it's dangerous out there."
Yazid exchanged a worried glance with Salim, his brow furrowed deeply. "What's happening to our little cutie? Maybe she's just overthinking things because of those nightmares she's been having."
Nadira's resolve hardened. "Mom, I can get stronger if I go out. This mission is important. I have to go."
Her parents' worry deepened, their expressions heavy with concern. They shook their heads, still refusing.
The conversation hung in tense uncertainty until, without warning, the chains around Nadira's wrists and ankles began to move on their own. Suddenly, sharp barbs scratched Yazid's and Salim's hands. Both gasped, their eyes fluttered shut, and they collapsed onto the floor, fast asleep.
Nadira's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Tears streamed down her cheeks as panic surged through her veins. She shook them desperately, voice trembling. "Mom! Dad! Wake up! What's happening to you?"
The voice inside her mind soothed her gently, Don't worry. I only made them sleep for a while. They're safe. But we must leave now.
"No," Nadira whispered fiercely, her voice breaking. "I can't leave them like this. I'll wait until they wake up."
How foolish are you? the voice chided softly. When they wake, they won't let you go outside.
Nadira's eyes filled with tears, but she understood the truth. She tried to lift her parents, but her small hands and weakened body couldn't bear their weight.
What are you doing? the voice urged urgently. We need to move fast.
"If you want me to go, then help me put them on the bed," Nadira pleaded, desperation creeping into her tone.
Ahh, the voice responded, and the chains stirred again. They moved with deliberate grace, gently lifting Yazid and Salim and placing them carefully on the bed.
Now, let's go, the voice commanded.
Nadira hesitated, her gaze flickering anxiously over her parents' bodies, checking for any harm caused by the chains.
Just leave. Don't worry, the voice reassured firmly.
With a heavy heart, Nadira closed and locked the door from the inside. She climbed out the window, landing awkwardly and wincing as pain flared through her leg. A sob escaped her lips, her face contorted with discomfort.
Why did you jump? Why didn't you use the door? the voice asked, a hint of reproach.
"If I used the door, someone might have come in, and I couldn't lock it," Nadira replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The voice fell silent for a moment, then said, Just lie down. After some time, your injury will heal.
Nadira lay down, her breath slowing as she fought to calm the storm of fear and pain within her.
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Elsewhere, in a distant place, the girl who had slept on the building the previous night awoke. Her eyes gleamed with pure gold, radiant and otherworldly. She rose gracefully, her dress flowing behind her in a strange design that seemed to allow something to emerge without tearing the fabric.
As she moved forward, monstrous creatures appeared in her path. Without effort, she destroyed them—her hands striking with mysterious power, obliterating the creatures silently and swiftly.
She picked up a device and slipped it onto her wrist. Suddenly, a signal appeared—a glowing blue mark pulsing softly.
Oh, she thought, who is this? Who can wear that dress?
Without hesitation, she began moving toward the direction of the signal, her steps purposeful and sure.