Kavya had always been an outsider. Not because she was unloved, or because she didn't have friends-no, it was something deeper, something far more sinister. She didn't belong, not in the orphanage, not in the streets she wandered, and certainly not in the world she had grown accustomed to. There was always a quiet feeling of being a mere spectator, as if she were watching her life unfold from a distance, unable to touch it. The morning the letter arrived was no different. The sun streamed through the cracks of the half-closed window, casting faint shadows on the dusty wooden floor. Kavya sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her palms as if the answers to her life's questions were hidden within the lines of her skin. Her fingers brushed over the cold metal of a pendant she wore around her neck, a strange gift from a woman she had met years ago, a woman who had claimed to see the future. The woman's words echoed in her mind, unsettling, yet familiar: "You'll find your way to Kalapathar, and you will be called by something much older than time."