"Do you think running will save you, Goddess?"
The words sliced through the air like a blade, sharp and deliberate. Tara Vedant froze mid-step on the crowded city sidewalk, her breath caught in her throat. The voice wasn't loud, but it carried a resonance that felt far too close, too intimate—mocking yet authoritative. She spun around, her eyes scanning the chaos of the bustling street: honking cars, hurried pedestrians, and the enticing aroma of frying snacks from a nearby food cart.
Nothing. No one suspicious.
Her heart pounded, the strap of her bag cutting into her hand as she tightened her grip. Who had spoken? How had they gotten so close without her realizing?
Beside her, Kaelash—the scruffy, black street dog who had been her shadow for three years—looked up at her. His amber eyes held an unusual intensity, the kind that made her stomach twist.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Kaelash didn't respond the way a dog normally would—no bark, no wagging tail. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with a focus that felt unnervingly human. Tara held his gaze for a moment before she had to look away, the weight of his stare too much to bear.
She shook her head, trying to push away the unease. "It's nothing," she murmured to herself, quickening her pace.
Around her, the city continued to hum with life, its glass towers glinting in the afternoon sun like fractured mirrors. She wanted to lose herself in its noise, to blend into the mundane rhythm of her day and drown out the whisper that had sliced through her peace.
But lately, normalcy had been slipping further and further from her grasp.
---
The cracks had started to show two weeks ago. Tara had been on her lunch break at work, sitting in the office cafeteria with a bland sandwich in one hand and her phone in the other, when a sharp, searing pain had ripped through her palm.
Startled, she'd looked down to find blood dripping onto her plate, a deep, jagged cut running across her hand. But she hadn't touched anything sharp.
Panicked, she'd rushed to the restroom, her thoughts racing. Yet, when she ran the wound under cold water, something impossible happened. Before her eyes, the gash began to close, the torn skin knitting itself back together until it was as if the injury had never existed.
Tara hadn't told anyone. Who would believe her?
Since that day, her life had grown stranger. Her dreams had taken on an unsettling vividness, filled with flickering images of battlefields and rituals she couldn't understand. And in each one, there was always a black dog, standing watch.
Kaelash.
---
"Get it together, Vedant," she muttered as she unlocked the door to her apartment—a modest, cozy place tucked into a quieter corner of the city. Tara had always preferred solitude, her space free from the complications of human relationships.
Kaelash darted inside ahead of her, his nails clicking against the polished wooden floor.
"Stop being ridiculous," she whispered, setting her bag on the counter and pouring herself a glass of water. Her hands trembled slightly as she drank. "You're just tired. Overworked."
Kaelash settled at her feet, his piercing gaze unwavering. For a moment, it almost felt like he was trying to speak, to say something she wouldn't—or couldn't—understand.
---
That night, the dreams returned.
This time, Tara found herself in the heart of a battlefield. The sky above burned a blood-red hue, the air thick with the acrid tang of ash and iron. Warriors clad in gleaming armor clashed around her, their battle cries reverberating like rolling thunder.
She stood unarmed, exposed. But none of the combatants came near her. Instead, they glanced her way with a mixture of fear and reverence, stepping aside as if she were untouchable.
Tara's gaze fell to a pool of blood on the ground, and the reflection staring back at her made her breath catch.
It wasn't her.
The face she saw had her eyes—deep brown, familiar—but the features were sharper, commanding. Her hair, streaked with silver, cascaded like a dark river down her back. In her hand, she held a trishula, its three gleaming blades radiating an otherworldly energy.
"You are her," a booming voice declared, shaking the earth beneath her feet. "Awaken, Tara Vedant. The time has come."
---
Tara woke with a jolt, her chest heaving. The faint glow of city lights filtered through her curtains, but her apartment felt suffocatingly dark.
Then she noticed Kaelash.
He was sitting on her chest.
With a startled cry, she pushed him off, her heart pounding as he landed effortlessly on the bed. His amber eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.
"You've been dreaming again," he said.
Tara froze.
It wasn't just his stare that pinned her in place. It wasn't even the fact that he'd spoken, clear and articulate.
It was the voice.
It was the same voice that had whispered to her on the street.
"You… you can talk?" she stammered, her voice barely audible.
Kaelash stretched lazily, his movements unnervingly fluid. "Not often," he said, his tone casual, as though this were completely normal. "But desperate times call for desperate measures."
"This isn't real," Tara whispered, pinching herself hard. The sharp sting confirmed her worst fear: she was awake.
Kaelash tilted his head, his expression softening. "I know this is overwhelming," he said gently. "But we don't have time for denial. They're coming for you, Tara. And if you're not prepared, you won't survive."
"Who's coming?" she demanded, her voice trembling.
His eyes darkened, the glow in them flickering like embers. "The Anveshak cult. They've been hunting your kind for centuries. And now that your powers are awakening, they'll stop at nothing to destroy you."
"My kind?" she echoed, her mind spinning.
"You are no ordinary mortal," Kaelash said, his voice steady. "You are the reincarnation of a goddess—a warrior who once stood against the forces that sought to plunge this world into chaos."
Tara stared at him, her thoughts a chaotic storm. It sounded absurd. Impossible.
And yet, deep in her chest, something stirred.
A memory. A flicker of recognition.
An echo of a life she had long forgotten.