The rescue teams and other investigations started after the sudden civil war in a small speculated area in the land of sand. There were many casualties and some of them were fatally injured, not sure if they would make it till the morning. The rescue camps were working faster to help the survivors and Patra blended with them effortlessly. She was observing people managing the medical department and began to help clean the wounds of the survivors.
It was the middle of the night and the havoc outside had destroyed the peaceful place of the ancient kingdom. The tomb researchers were trying to find was lost in the depth of earth. Patra looked at the sky and the lights of the nearby city. She was curious to find out what those lights were. This new world had her hooked on her tongue to taste the blood of this new generation that had advanced in every field. She was a fast learner but learning their language was still a task she had to work on. When everyone was sleeping, she was practicing to speak words in the common language to interact with other people around her.
The next morning, investigators came to the rescue camp and began to interrogate every survivor. When Patra noticed that, she was worried that she would get caught. Although, she wasn't afraid of them. Killing was her first instinct and she wouldn't hesitate to decapitate anyone coming in her way but, She found it exhausting. She was undead all the time in her tomb and remaining inside a small casket had affected her physical abilities. In no time, she would bounce back to her real strength but before that, she had to keep herself away from the eyes of predators.
"Ma'am! What's your name?" A female investigator asked Patra.
Patra opened her lips to speak but another girl came to her side and said, "Her name is Zoe. She can't speak but I found out that name from her Identity Card." It was the same girl who brought Patra to the rescue camp.
"Oh! Why can't she talk?" The investigator asked the girl.
"I have no idea… It could be congenital or accidental. Maybe due to trauma, she hasn't recovered yet." The girl stated reasons on Patra 's behalf.
"Oh! That's sad to hear. I will send her for a physical examination and then we will find her native place. We need to send all the survivors back to their hometown." The female investigator left the girls alone.
"Hi! I'm Denise. How are you feeling now?" the girl at the camp asked, her voice soft but curious.
Patra, momentarily startled by Denise's sudden approach, quickly masked her surprise. She realized this was an opportunity to turn the situation in her favor. Smiling sweetly, she lowered her head, pretending to understand but giving the impression that she couldn't speak.
"It's okay! Don't worry about them. I'll take you to the examination center so they can make sure you're not injured," Denise said reassuringly as she gently took Patra by the wrist and led her towards the medical center.
The nursing staff performed a quick physical exam, checking vitals and conducting a few simple tests. "She seems physically fine," one nurse reported, glancing at her notes. "It's possible she's still in shock from the trauma, but I believe she'll recover with time."
Denise nodded, relief evident in her smile. "I hope once she gets home, things will improve for her." She thanked the nurse, collected the medical report, and gently guided Patra out of the camp, hoping for a brighter path ahead for her new companion.
"Zoe, do you need any help packing your things? We're leaving for our countries at midnight," Denise asked, her curiosity evident.
Patra immediately understood what Denise meant, but she politely declined the offer, trying to speak. "I… I'll do it," she stammered softly.
"Are you sure?" Denise asked, concerned.
"Y-Yes," Patra replied with effort. Denise nodded understandingly and left to pack her own belongings.
Unsure of what to do next, Patra started gathering small cards with the name "Zoe" printed on them. Zoe must have been a girl, possibly someone who had died during the attack. The thought weighed heavily on her mind. Confusion lingered as she grappled with the uncertainty of how she would survive in a foreign land. But she knew she had no choice—she had to find a way.
Hours passed quickly, and soon everyone stood in line, waiting to board the bus to the airport. Patra felt a wave of nervousness, but Denise stayed by her side, holding her hand until they reached the airport. At that moment, Patra realized that she couldn't rely on Denise any longer—Denise was bound for another country.
As Denise prepared to depart, Patra waved goodbye, her heart heavy with both gratitude and uncertainty. Once Denise was gone, the authorities approached to assist Patra. She handed them her medical records from the camp, hoping they would guide her through the next steps. With the airport bustling and the crowd growing restless, the authorities quickly ushered her through the line, ensuring she boarded her flight without adding to the chaos.
Patra smiled faintly as she settled into her aisle seat. She had made it this far by assuming the identity of a dead girl—Zoe. The weight of that deception pressed on her, but the thrill of survival was stronger. She didn't know where this plane was taking her, but she knew she would find her way, no matter the challenges ahead.
As the plane ascended into the sky, Patra's stomach churned, discomfort settling in. Her hands gripped the armrest tightly, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The unfamiliar sensation of takeoff unnerved her, and it didn't go unnoticed. An attentive flight attendant quickly came over, her expression full of concern.
"Are you okay, miss?" the flight attendant asked softly, bending down to Patra's level.
Patra nodded slightly but kept her trembling hands visible, knowing it would fuel the narrative she had crafted. The flight crew was well aware that many of the passengers onboard were survivors of the recent attack in Egypt—an event that had thrown the world into a state of confusion and panic. They assumed she was having a panic attack, perhaps reliving the trauma of what had occurred.
"Don't worry, you're safe now," the flight attendant reassured her gently. "This is normal; the feeling will pass soon. Try to breathe slowly."
Patra played her part flawlessly. She trembled, feigning fear, and allowed the attendant to guide her through breathing exercises. Her acting was convincing enough that they offered her a more private space—a separate cabin where she could recover in peace, away from the hundreds of unfamiliar faces.
Once alone, Patra's thoughts raced. Within a single day, her life had changed drastically. She sat in the small cabin, the hum of the aircraft lulling her into deep contemplation. The truth was undeniable—she didn't belong in this generation. Her existence was a relic of the past, yet here she was, given another chance in a new era.
If the gods had truly granted her this opportunity, Patra knew she couldn't waste it. Her purpose, though still unclear, was waiting for her to discover. And this time, she wouldn't hesitate. She would fulfill her destiny, whatever it might be.