They say the world is what we touch, taste, and see. But they're wrong.

The real world is hidden—woven in whispers, stitched in shadows, and carved into the space between heartbeats. I was just a girl, fragile and forgotten, begging on streets where no one looked twice. But I saw beyond the dust and hunger. I saw the truth.

The spiritual commands the physical. Every tear, every breath, every death—nothing happens without a hand unseen pulling the strings.

And somehow, those strings are tied to me.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't pray to see the things that hide behind smiles or the shadows that follow without footsteps. But the veil was torn for me, whether I wanted it or not.

Demons don't knock when they come. They creep in silence, choking you with fear, twisting hearts against you. Angels? They are gentle, filled with light and warmth—but when war comes, they become fierce, unyielding, willing to tear apart the heavens to protect those who call on God.

I'm just a girl. But in this world—the world we don't see—that's enough to start a war.