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I've always been fascinated by stories. Growing up, my mother used to say the world was built on them. Stories of bravery, love, sacrifice... and darkness. When I first heard his name, it was whispered like a curse. A shadow you couldn't escape. But I thought... I thought it was just another story. A cautionary tale to keep children from wandering too far into the woods. I was wrong. He's not just a story. He's real. And he's worse than the words they use to describe him.

That's the thing about darkness—it doesn't just take; it consumes. It feasts on your fears and failures until you're nothing but an empty shell. I've seen it happen too many people now— to students, teachers, friends. I keep wondering: when does it stop?

I'm not afraid of dying—not really. I'm afraid of being forgotten. Of my story fading into the background like so many others. But if my story ends with saving someone... then maybe it's not the end. Maybe it's just the beginning of theirs.

So, if you hear my name one day, don't let it be a curse. Let it be a story. A story about a girl who stood against the darkness and gave everything she had to save a little bit of light.

My name is Zelda Burbage.

A lover, a friend, a daughter—and this is my story.

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