CHAPTER 254: CHAPTER-254.

There are things here... not human, not animal. They shift, they twist. They turn into bird-like creatures right in front of me. God, what is this place? I want to go home. Arjun... Arjun will be waiting for me.

The ink trailed at the end of the sentence, the line shaking into nothingness, as though the writer’s hand had been yanked mid-thought.

There was no date on this entry.

The handwriting, scattered and uneven, appeared only on a handful of pages, as though the writer had been robbed of time, seizing ink whenever she could, never given the chance to say more.

It’s already been three months since I came to this world.

God... these things, they’re inhuman. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my family again.

The ink pressed heavier, as though anger was bleeding through the words.

No. I have to do something. I need to survive. I cannot just die here. I still have so many things left undone.

Then the lines twisted into something darker.

There is a Walter-like creature... obsessed with me. He says that if I marry him, he’ll find a way to send me back. But I can’t. I won’t. I’m already married. And except for my husband, I will never give this place—my heart, my vows—to anyone.

.

.

.

The handwriting this time was almost illegible—letters uneven, words colliding into one another, as though written by a hand too weary to hold the pen steady.

It has been two years since I came into this world.

My mind feels like it’s shutting down piece by piece. I try to draw, to build, to construct—anything to calm myself—but it doesn’t help. Every now and then, I feel like dying.

The ink grew darker in places, blotched with pressure.

I have already given birth to two children. Yet I cannot even look at their faces. When I see my eldest, he is the mirror of his father—exactly like him. And I am reminded of how I was forced into this marriage. Marriage... can I even call it that? God knows.

The next lines wavered, the strokes trembling.

Sometimes I try to end it all. I try to... end myself. But every time, an image flashes in my mind—his face. The one I loved. The one I ache for. Yet even that is fading. Blurring. I am terrified that one day I will forget him completely.

A pause. The writing shifted, as though carved with bitterness.

What should I do? No matter how much I try, I cannot love these children. They are chains. Every time I see them, I see the pieces of the past I lost. They remind me only of what was stolen from me.

The next part was frantic, crowded with words.

I have learned things about this world. I am not the first. Others, like me, have been brought here—men and women both. It happens rarely, but it happens. Yet no one here knows the truth. They don’t believe in another world. To them, we are nothing but strange beasts—creatures to be bound.

And then came the final lines, scratched as though written in anger, or hopelessness.

I begged the vulture man. I told him I wanted to go home. But he wouldn’t let me. He locked me away. I am a prisoner in a house built by my own design.

Kaya knew it.

Damn it, she knew.

She had always felt it deep down, but now—this diary proved it. Word for word, line by line, it confirmed everything she had suspected. There were others. More people like her. Humans who couldn’t shift into beast form.

Her pulse hammered. So the beastmen knew all along... about people like me.

But then—what happened to them?

A chill slid down her spine as a memory resurfaced. Veer’s brother, his voice low, almost afraid—telling her how one day, their mother had suddenly disappeared. Vanished without a trace.

Kaya’s thoughts tangled, her breath uneven.

And Arjun—Arjun Viyan. She tried to recall the fragments of gossip she had once heard in her world. She had never cared much for the news, not enough to follow it closely.

But the question clawed at her now.

Did he ever find her?

Or did she, simply remain vanished?

That night, Kaya could not sleep. Not a wink. Her mind kept circling back to the diary. The words stopped too suddenly, the pages after left blank, as if the writer had been cut short. She needed more. She needed to know.

But the candle was already a problem. The wax melted too quickly, and there was so little left. She hadn’t dared to push her eyes in the dim light either—if anything happened to her sight, there would be no glasses for her in this world.

So she waited. Restless. The moment morning came, instinct took over. She hurried through her exercises, took her bath, and got ready as quickly as she could. By the time the sun had fully risen, she was dressed in a bright red shirt and soft black cotton pants, her hair still damp, her resolve unshaken.

Her plan was simple: ask Veer’s brother to take her back to his mother’s house.

But when she stepped outside, the news crushed her. Veer, his brothers, and even a few others had already left. Worse—they wouldn’t be back for another three or four days.

Three or four days? Kaya’s stomach knotted. She couldn’t wait that long.

Her eyes landed on the sparrow beastman perched nearby, puffing his feathers in the morning sun. A thought struck her. He can fly. Of course... he could carry me there.

Her hope lasted all of five seconds.

Wrong.

That lazy bum had grown so fat he could barely lift himself, let alone carry her. He flapped his wings half-heartedly and nearly tumbled over. Kaya pinched the bridge of her nose, torn between exasperation and disbelief.

Forget carrying me—he can’t even carry his own weight.

Kaya went back to her room and pulled out the old handbag she had sewn herself.