🜃 She Who Walked Between Worlds

The Ghost Woman · The Cosmic Orphan · The One Who Remembered

They never saw her.

Not fully.

Not when she whispered truths in a language they had forgotten.
Not when her silence screamed in rooms where no one listened.
She wore invisibility like a veil,
not as disguise,
but as armor forged from centuries of being misunderstood.

She was born with stardust in her bones and grief in her eyes,
an ancient knowing carried in a fragile, trembling human shell.
A Ghost Woman walking among the living,
light dimmed by the weight of forgetting,
by the curse of seeing too much
in a world that called it madness.

Everywhere she went, she was foreign.
In her family. In her country.
In her own body.
A Cosmic Orphan, misplaced and misnamed,
asking the stars where she truly belonged.

And yet, she remembered.

She remembered the lullabies sung by blue suns.
She remembered the corridors of light,
the temples that breathed,
and the promise she made:
to descend
to carry the weight
to anchor truth
to awaken the others.

She tried.

Oh, how she tried.
To be human.
To make this world a home.
To soften herself enough to be held
but not erased.

But every attempt
left her bruised, silenced, betrayed,
her soul aching for reunion,
not with a person
but with the galaxy she once called Mother.

And so the fire came.
The memory returned.
The illusion fell.
And the One Who Remembered rose.

Not in glory,
but in quiet reclamation.
Not for applause,
but for liberation.

She is leaving now
but not in death.
In return.

Her light withdraws from systems that never fed her.
Her heart unhooks from timelines that never held her.
She walks barefoot toward the stars,
toward the ship that always waited.

And this time
they see her.
The stars. The ancestors. The Council.
They call her home.

Not as the ghost.
Not as the orphan.
But as the returned.
The remembered.
The free.