Koya was born on a quiet, rainy night inside the Flow Star.
The moment she took her first breath, the room fell into an uneasy silence. Her mother still breathing but unconscious, never opened her eyes again. The healers tried everything they knew, but nothing worked. Within weeks, the whispers began.
"She came with a curse."
"That child brought darkness with her."
From the very beginning, Koya grew into the shadows of her mother endless sleep. The other children kept their distance, the carers spoke to her only when necessary, their voices clipped and cold. No one rocked her to sleep with soft songs. No one celebrated her first steps with laughter and clapping. Instead they watched her with wary eyes, as if waiting for something terrible to happen.
By the time she could walk, the older kids has already learned the game.
"Curse bringer." They called her.
"Demon spawn."
Whenever she tried to join their games, they scattered like startled birds. If she reached for a toy, hands pulled it away, "Don't touch it." "You'll break it like you broke your mother."
Koya didn't understand, she was only four.
She would stand alone in the corner of the playroom, small hands clutching the hem or her warn dress, watching the others laugh and run. Sometimes she would try to smile at them anyway. They answered with stones thrown behind the carers back or cruel whispers that followed her like smoke.
"Her mother won't wakeup because of her."
"Maybe if we ignore her long enough, she'll disappear too."
The carers weren't much kinder. They fed her last, gave her the smallest portions and assigned her the hardest chores. "You've to earn your keep." They said, even when her tiny hands could barely carry the buckets of water. When she cried at night of loneliness, no one came to comfort her. Instead, they muttered, "she's crying again. Just like her mother - bringing nothing but trouble."
Only Immira was different.
Immira who had promised Koya's mother, she would watch over the child, becoming her quiet anchor. When other carers would turn their back, Immira would sneak extra bread into Koya's hands. She sat with her during storms, telling her stories about brave girls who faced the world alone. When the older kids would mocked Koya too loudly, Immira calm voice would cut through the cruelty like a gentle blade.
"You're not a curse little one." She would whisper, wiping tears from Koya's cheeks, "you're a gift your mother fought to bring into this world."
Koya clung onto those words like a lifeline.
But words could only do so much against years of isolation.
At six years old, Koya learned to stop reaching out. She played alone in the garden, talking to flowers and imaginary friends. She thought herself to read by sneaking books when no one was looking. She learned to be quiet, to be small, to take up little space as possible so no one would noticed her long enough to hurt her.
The older kids grew bolder as she grew older. They tripped her in the hallway. They hid her only pair of shoes. They drew ugly marks on her clothes and laughed when she wore them anyways. "Look at the curse walk around like she belongs here."
One afternoon when she was eight, a group of older boys cornered her at the storage building.
"You made your mother sleep forever." The tallest one sneered, "what kind of monster does that?"
Koya stood there, small and trembling, tears burning in her eyes. She wanted to scream that it wasn't through. She wanted to say she miss her mother too. Instead she whispered. "I didn't... I didn't do anything..."
They laughed and pushed her to the mud.
That night, Immira found her sitting alone, convered in dirt, staring into nothing.
Immira cleaned her up without saying a word, then held her close when Koya finally let herself cry - deep shaky sobs that have been locked away for years.
"You're not what they say." Immira told her softly. " One day they'll see your light, until then, I'll see it for them.
Koya nodded against her shoulders, but the hurt never fully left.
The years dragged on in the same painful rhythm, Birthdays with no cake, no songs, no one remembering the day except Immira. When she turned ten, the other kids made a game of avoiding the rooms she entered. Carers sighed when ever they had to speak to her, as if her very presence was exhausting.
She learned to smile through it all - a small quiet smile that never reached her eyes.
By the time she reached eleven, Koya has become a ghost in her own home. The moved in the Flow Star like a shadow, speaking when only being spoken to expecting nothing but cruelty or indifference. The pain had harden into a quiet armor. She told herself she didn't need friends, she told herself she didn't kindness.
But deel down, the lonely little girl still hoped.
Then came the day she turned twelve.
The Flow test.
Everyone gathered in the center hall. One by one children stepped forward to discover their Flow. Smiles and gasps filled the room as bright lights and powered energies appeared.
When it was Koya's turn, the hall grew strangely quiet.
She stepped onto the testing circle, heart pounding. The Elders activated the ancient rune.
Nothing happened.
No spark. No light. No Flow.
The silence stretched, then shattered into whispers and cruel laughter.
"Flowless."
"Of course she is."
"The curse finally shows it true face."
Koya stood there, small fist clenching at her sides, fighting back tears as the whole room looked at her with pity, disgust, or open mockery.
Only Immira eyes held something else - quiet believe.
That night, after the laugher has died down and the other children gone to celebrate their new powers. Koya sat alone on the roof, staring at the stars.
Immira found her there and sat beside her without a word.
"I've no Flow." Koya said, voice cracking. "They were right all along."
Immira gently looked at her. "They're wrong about many things my child. Strength is not only in Flow. One day you'll show them what true strength looks like."
Koya leaned her head against Immira's shoulder, the only safe place she has ever known.
She was twelve years old, Flowless, alone and mocked.
But somewhere, deep inside, a small spark refused to die.
Present day.
Koya sat in her mother's laying room, holding her hands tightly.
"Mom. Thinking about my life always makes me laughed." She said with an emotional tune. "I've been through so much... But can't and won't lie, I've experienced real happiness, from Immira, Anna, Cal and of recent Meriosa. I don't know what is going on but I've no choice but to play along until it fully makes sense."
Koya stared at her mother calmly... Tears gathering in her eyes.
Later.
Koya walked into the empty hall. Each step burning with confidence. Determination burning in her eyes. Holding IKUA's arm tightly.
She walked and stood at the center of the hall. Raised IKUA's arm, breath calmly.
"Let's do this." She said.
TO BE CONTINUED...