October 24th,
Blood doesn't always tell the truth.
But truth?
It never stays buried forever.
***
The moment Anita told me about the woman in her vision — the one kneeling in white, crying in fire, holding a child — I knew.
Somewhere in me… I just knew she was connected to me.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, my Bible pressed against my chest. A single thought kept hammering in my head:
"What if I don't know where I come from?"
Morning came slow.
Tony had class. Mayumi was still recovering. Anita was unusually quiet — as if she was still seeing things no one else could.
During break, I called home.
"Mum," I said after some small talk. "Can I ask you something strange?"
She was silent, but listening.
"Is there… anything you haven't told me about our family? Dad… our bloodline?"
A long pause.
Then her voice, soft but trembling:
"Sandra… what brought this on?"
I hesitated. "I had a vision. Well… Anita did. There's a woman — and somehow I feel she's tied to me. I think… it's time I know everything."
Her voice lowered. "Come home this weekend. I'll tell you everything."
Later that day, Lissa sent a strange voice note to him:
"I had this weird dream, Tony. A woman with a white scarf was crying by a well… She kept calling a name — I think it was Sandra. I don't know why, but it felt real. Please be careful."
Tony showed it to me immediately.
I knew then — the dreams weren't random. The warnings weren't just for the moment. Something ancient was stirring.
That evening, Anita and I visited the chapel library again, searching deeper. That's when Mayumi joined us, finally able to walk more freely. Her eyes kept darting around, scanning the old paintings and carvings on the walls.
Then she stopped suddenly.
Her finger pointed to a symbol etched in the stone beneath one of the windows — a simple spiral, encircled with what looked like flames.
"I saw this," she whispered. "Where they kept me."
My heart dropped.
"What do you mean?"
She turned slowly. "The room they locked me in had this drawn on the floor. Exactly this. I think… whoever took me is tied to this place."
We took pictures and left immediately.
Back at the hostel, I sat with the diary again.
And this time, when I prayed…
I saw the woman too.
Not in a dream. Not in a vision.
But in a moment of stillness — eyes open, yet not alone.
She was holding a locket. Inside was a photo. My photo.
And she said just one thing:
"Break it before it binds you."
***
I thought the darkness on campus was just about this season.
But it runs deeper.
It remembers me.
And I must remember who I am.