My name is Aira Vale, and today I turned 18.

In any other town, that would mean freedom. College. Dreams.

But in Duskmoor, it means one thing: I should be dead

Everyone here knows the rule — no child should be born 13th.

Our town only allows twelve. The 13th is considered cursed.

Each time someone ignored that… something tragic followed.

Disappearing children. Accidents with no cause. Screams in the night.

No 13th child ever made it to adulthood.

Until me.

At my birthday dinner, no one celebrated.

My mother lit the candles with shaking hands.

No friends. No music. Just a cold cake and colder silence.

I tried to smile. I pretended I wasn’t afraid.

But something in the air that night felt wrong — heavy, like wet ash

Later, lying in bed, I saw it.

My shadow blinked.

I didn’t move.

But I swear on my own breath — my shadow opened its eyes.

Then it whispered, low and sharp like a knife in the dark:

You owe us twelve lives.

I jolted upright. The room was quiet. My heart wasn’t.

I checked the clock. 3:13 AM. The screen glitched and flickered.

When I touched my collarbone, something burned under the skin.

In the mirror, I saw them — thirteen tiny glowing dots in a circle.

Like a clock.

Or a countdown.

The next morning, the news broke:

A classmate of mine had been found dead near the docks.

No injury. No sign of struggle.

Just… gone.

And I knew, deep in my bones:

He died so I could keep living.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

That night, someone stood outside my window.

Not a ghost. Not a stranger.

A boy with a scar I recognized.

His name was Kael

He died when I was eight — in the same fire I walked away from, untouched.

And now… he was back. Looking at me like he never left

End of Episode 1

EP 2-The Boy Who Should Be Dead

Kael stood outside my window, exactly how I remembered him — black hoodie, wind-blown hair, the small scar above his right brow.

But Kael died ten years ago. I went to his funeral. I saw the ashes.

I didn’t open the window. I couldn’t.

I just stared as he mouthed two words:

“You remember.”

And then, he was gone.

The next day, I searched old photos. There he was — smiling, alive. My only childhood friend. The one who saved me from that fire.

But when I asked my mother about him, her face went pale.

"Kael never existed, Aira," she whispered.

"You made him up after the fire."

She’s lying. I know she is.

Because last night

when I checked the mark on my skin,

one of the thirteen dots had vanished.

HEY CUTIES THIS MY FIRST NOVEL HOPE U ALLL LIKE THISS!!!

I WILL TRY TO UPLOAD EP 3 4 5 AS SOON AS POSSIBLE LOVE U CUTIESSS

HOPE SO YPU LIKE THIS