After hearing the truth from Sajib's grandmother, sleep became impossible. Rupa felt as if the village itself was watching her.
The next morning, she noticed something strange.
People in Chandrapur were whispering more than usual. Doors were closing early. Mothers were calling their children home before sunset.
At the market, Rupa saw it.
A dark mark—faint but visible—on the wrist of a man standing near the rice stall.
Her heart skipped.
She looked around.
Another woman had the same mark.
And a child.
The diary grew warm in her hands.
A sentence appeared:
"Those who are chosen are already named."
Rupa felt sick.
She ran to Sajib.
"They're marked," she said breathlessly. "Some people already belong to it."
Sajib clenched his fists. "Then the full moon isn't choosing randomly."
That night, screams echoed from the far end of the village.
By morning, another name had disappeared.
The mark had faded.
The diary wrote quietly:
"One step closer."