Alana woke with a start. The necklace was clenched in her hand, as if her body, even in sleep, refused to let it go. The morning light poured into her room, but it felt pale in comparison to the weight of what she had discovered the night before.
"She holds something powerful. They say the stone never chooses wrong."
The words from the article echoed in her mind. It was time to seek answers—answers that only one person could give.
In the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee mixed with the familiar sound of a spoon stirring in a cup. But it all felt... distant. Out of place. As if the world had changed while she slept.
"Mom," she said from the doorway, her voice steady, "who was Tereza Stilinsk... really?"
The spoon stopped. Silence settled over the room. Her mother kept her gaze on the drink, as if avoiding the question.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"I found a photo. And the stone. It was in the park, just like the book described. With the name Vydra. I saw the old newspaper article. You knew about this, didn't you?"
Her mother took a deep breath, finally raising her eyes to meet her daughter's. There was weariness in them. And fear.
"Your great-grandmother was... special," she said slowly. "But no one talked about it. Not even at home. She used to say the stone chooses whoever is ready. I never was. When I was young, she tried to show me. But I... I refused. I was afraid."
Alana swallowed hard. Something clicked into place—like a missing piece of a long-lost family puzzle.
"So that's why the stone was in the park? Because you rejected it?"
Her mother didn't answer right away. She just nodded—barely.
"I hid it. Buried it near the tree where we used to play... I thought if no one found it, it would all end there."
"But it didn't."
"No. It... came back. And now it's chosen you."
Chosen you. Those words stayed with Alana for the rest of the day.
That night, the room felt different. As if something invisible was watching. Alana left the necklace on the nightstand and turned off the light, but sleep wouldn't come.
Minutes later, a faint bluish glow began to emanate from the stone. And then... the whispers came. Indecipherable words. Tongues that didn't belong to the modern world. The sound was low, as if the universe itself were speaking from the edges of reality.
She sat up, breathless. The stone was pulsing.
"Are you calling me?" she murmured, not expecting a reply.
She reached out, hesitantly. But before she touched it, the glow intensified, as if responding to her movement. She drew back, startled—but something inside her... awakened.
Her eyes landed on a candle on the desk. A sudden impulse crossed her mind. She wanted to know. Needed to know.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and visualized the flame. Small. Vibrant. Alive.
For a moment—nothing.
But then—whoosh—the candle lit.
She opened her eyes in shock. The fire flickered. Real.
The stone remained still, glowing softly, as if in approval.
Alana's heart raced—not from fear, but from something new: recognition.
She touched the necklace gently and, for the first time, understood a profound truth.
The stone wasn't the source of the power.
It was only the key.
The power... had been within her all along.
"What am I?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Outside, the wind howled, making the windows shudder. And in the depths of the night, the silence seemed to murmur an answer not yet ready to be heard.
And she felt it: the world as she knew it was about to change.