BLACK PENDANT — THE DIVE

“Truth becomes meaningless whenpeople have already decided what to believe.”

I woke up in a dark room.

Rain hammered the roof ina relentless rhythm. Somewhere nearby, wood crackled softly. The air was damp –earthy, stale – carrying the scent of wet soil and old timber.

I was lying on a bed. Butnot mine. The mattress was stiff. The sheets were rough and unwashed, like theyhadn’t been used in years. Across the room, an old wooden clock stood againstthe wall. Midnight.

My chest suddenly felttight. Nothing here felt familiar. Where was I? And most importantly, whobrought me here? I couldn’t remember anything. I searched my memory–instinctively, urgently– but the movement I tried, pain cut through myhead, sharp and immediate.

This wasn’tdisorientation. Something was wrong.

Lightning flashed throughthe windows. For a fraction of a second, the room came into sharp focus –

–and I saw him.

An older man was standingat the edge of the bed, staring at me. Thunder followed, shaking the woodenwalls. I froze. I had never seen him before. Fear tightened in my chest.

I tried to get out of bed.Pain exploded through my leg and I collapsed. The man rushed forward and caughtme before I hit the floor. He held me until I could stand again. That’s when Irealised—he wasn’t a threat. He had come to help me. I turned to ask thequestion burning inside me— how had I ended up in this place? But before Icould speak, my eyes caught something across the room.

The mirror.

My breath caught. I shovedthe old man away, forcing him to let me go. With my broken leg, I staggeredtoward the mirror, each step unsteady, my gaze locked on the reflection staringback.

Was that… me? It couldn’tbe.

My face in the mirror wasdarkened — black as coal. A layer of ash clung to it like a second skin. Myclothes looked scorched and torn too, as though I had crawled out of a roaringfurnace. My throat was bitter and burning. Ash and coal dust coated my mouth,stinging with every breath.

I staggered closer to themirror. Lightning flashed again, and for a second, I saw my reflectionclearly—so terrifying it sent a shiver down my spine. With trembling hands, Itouched my arms. Then my face. The ash stuck to my skin began to fall away atthe slightest touch. But… there was no pain. My skin was smooth. Intact. Not asingle burn mark. No blisters. No scars. I looked down. My clothes weren’tburned at all — only stained with black soot. There were no signs of burninganywhere on my body. As if the fire had passed through me… but never trulytouched me.

The strange man, thehorrifying reflection in the mirror, the pain in my body—they all pointed tosomething far worse than a lingering nightmare. Something real, somethingviolent—had happened. And I couldn’t remember any of it.

I ran my trembling handover my clothes—and felt something heavy in my pocket. Slowly, I pulled it out.It was a chain. And hanging from it was a black diamond pendant.

I held the locket up to myeyes, and fragments of memory began to return. The old man placed a glass ofwater in my hand…

I was still staring at thependant, trying to remember something. As the water went down my throat…memories flooded back. The fire… the fall… and that one terrifying scream! Andat the centre of it all was that black diamond locket, glowing like an ember inthe darkness.

I survived. But… still,the incident was unfortunate.

“Are you alright?” the oldman asked, crouching beside me. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No… I’m fine,” I said,voice dry and cracked. My body needed help, but my mind resisted. I wassearching for something more urgent than medicine.

“You sure? You don’t lookfine.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

His eyes stayed on me,sceptical. “Who are you?”

I looked around the roomto see if anyone else was there.

“What’s your name?” heasked again, this time louder. “I found you unconscious out in my field.”

“Randal Cruse,” I said, myvoice hoarse. “I’m… a ballroom dancer.”

His brow furrowed. “Adancer? How’d you even end up in my field? Was there a crash or something?”

I hesitated, my throattightening. “No… we jumped out of a helicopter.”

He just stared at me.“You—what? You jumped?”

“Yes. It was supposed tobe a skydive,” I said quickly. “But something went wrong.”

He looked at me indisbelief. “You’re telling me you jumped straight into my burning field?”

I stayed silent.

He muttered under hisbreath. “Jesus. You’re out of your mind.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Istammered. “I did it for her—” my voice cracked. Panic rose in my chest. “Wait…was there someone else? A woman?”

“No. Just you. You wereunconscious. I checked the entire nearby area thoroughly… There was no one elsethere.”

“No,” I whispered. “She’salive. She must be. God, I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve—”

Saying this, I started tohead outside.

“Stop. You have afever—and you look terrible. If you go back out there, it could kill you.”

“I don’t care. If I’m thisbad, she could be worse.”

“Let the police handle it.They’ve got resources. They’ll find her quicker.”

“No. The first thingthey’ll do is handcuff me. I need to know what happened before they getinvolved.”

“You’re more afraid ofgetting arrested than saving her life?”

I hesitated, jaw tight.“You’re right. But… she’s accused of murder. Multiple.”

“What?”

“Yes,” I said, steady butfirm. “But I believe she didn’t do it.”

I exhaled hard, my chest tighteningunder the weight of it. “I’m not afraid of prison,” I said. “But if the policegrab me now, I won’t get to her. I’ll be locked in a cell while she’s outthere, bleeding, hunted. I also promised her—I’d hear her side before I went tothe police.”

A heavy silence droppedbetween us.

He stared, jaw clenched,frustration in his eyes.

After a moment, he sighed,“Listen, I’m not ready to do anything illegal. But…you’ve got a point. If wecall the police now, this whole thing will come out — I was the one who startedthat fire. If they dig too deep, you’ll be in trouble, and I could get draggedin too.”

His voice softened.“Alright. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll call in the local farmers. They know thisland better than anyone. If she’s nearby, they’ll find her. But if they don’t…”he paused, “then we go to the police. No more delays.”

I nodded slowly. The riskwas real. But so was my promise.

The farmer picked up hisphone and made the call, “Hello, I need help right now. There’s a woman in thefield—might’ve fallen from the sky. She’s probably severely injured. We need tostart searching at once.”

A team of field workersand local doctors set out into the scorched 400-acre field to find the womanwho’d fallen from the sky. The land was flat and blackened, pitch dark with nolights or landmarks. Someone lying down would be almost invisible in that emptiness,especially if they were wearing black clothes.

I turned to the farmer.“How are the doctors meant to get across that field?”

He blinked. “By tractor.What else?”

“A tractor?” I echoed.

“Yeah.” He soundedimpatient. “An ambulance won’t make it—too soft, too uneven. Tractors can carrythe med kit and the doctors. They’ll treat her on the spot if they find her.”

My pulse spiked. “Holdon,” I said, stepping in front of him, raising a hand. “They can’t just drive atractor—or any vehicle—with only headlights on.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because she’s in allblack,” I said, my breath quickening. “Charred clothes, dusted in coal. Ifshe’s lying down, the lights will wash over her, they won’t see her. They couldrun right over her.”

He went quiet, the colourdraining from his face as he pictured it.

“We need spotters,” I keptgoing, thinking it through out loud. “One person with dogs on foot in front ofevery tractor. Flashlights. Slow, careful sweeps. Eyes on the ground the wholetime—no rushing. We can’t afford another mistake.”

He nodded, sharp andcertain.

He looked at me andwhispered, “You’re right.” Then he called the farmers again and gave them theirinstructions.

The farmer took a deepbreath, handed me a glass of water, and drank two glasses himself.

“Don’t worry. If we findher alive, we’ll save her,” he said.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He studied me for amoment, then shook his head. “You look educated. Sensible, even. So, tellme—why would anyone like you jump into a burning field?”

“It was her idea.”

“Her idea? Why wouldanyone do that?”

“She’s… obsessed withblack.”

He frowned. “That’s not areason to risk your life.”

“It is to her.”

He waited.

“Not to her.”

“For her,” I said, “blackisn’t just colour. It’s who she is.”

“And you followed herbecause of that?”

“Yes.”

He let out a dry laugh.“That’s insane.”

“I’m a dancer,” I saidsoftly. “She followed my lead on the dance floor. It was my turn to followher.”

He shook his head. “Youshould’ve stopped her.”

“I tried. If I’d pushedharder, she would’ve gone alone.”

His jaw tightened. “Thatkind of thinking gets people killed.”

“She’s not reckless,” Isaid quickly. “Just… trying to prove something.”

“Prove what? And to whom?”

“Everyone. That shecarries the blood of a war hero.”

The farmer shook his head.

“By proving the bloodline,does she think she can claim her father’s honour? That’s not right. No oneshould be judged—or honoured—by their blood.”

“She doesn’t want to takeany credit. In fact, she’s been an outcast since childhood. Society tried toinsult her, but they couldn’t—because she was known as a martyr’s daughter. So,they challenged her. They told her to prove it, knowing her parents were nolonger alive.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“And now that shefailed—what? Does that prove she isn’t his daughter?”

“To her, there were onlytwo outcomes,” I said steadily. “Either she would survive—or she would die.Either way, she believed it would prove she had her father’s courage.”

The farmer fell silent,then sighed.

“Listen. When an entiresociety decides you’re nothing, they’ll twist your victories and weaponise yourfailures. This stunt just gave them more fuel.”

I exhaled, my resolvehardening.

“I don’t believe in groupideology. I’ve seen enough to know who she is. That’s what matters.”

He watched me carefully,something like respect flickering in his eyes. “Standing against an entiresociety isn’t easy.”

“I know,” I said quietly.“But going with the flow… that’s not strength. That’s just drifting.” I paused.“If something’s wrong, I won’t stand for it. Doesn’t matter who’s on the otherside.” He nodded slowly.

“We’ll help you find her.But we won’t support anything illegal.”

“Fair enough. But we needto find her—fast,” I said. “Only then I can prove someone tried to kill her.”

The farmer stiffened.

“Tried to kill her? Youtold me the two of you jumped willingly.”

“We did. But somethingwent wrong with her parachute. That wasn’t an accident—it felt planned. Aconspiracy.”

“And you just happened toland on my property?” His eyes narrowed. “Why here? Why my land?”

“She wanted to dive overblack land,” I said carefully. “Your land matched what she was looking for.”

“My land?” he snapped.“What exactly is so special about my land?”

“She planned this dive along time ago. She had been observing your property—its use, the soil, theclimate, everything,” I said. “She believed it was the most suitable place forher dive. But she never meant to harm anyone.”

The farmer rubbed histemples.

“If her chute failed, shecould’ve fallen straight into the fire. She might be dead. And now we’re introuble.”

“Why us?” I asked.

“Of course, us,” he saidsharply. “She fell on our land, and we were the ones who set it on fire. Wetook every precaution—moved the animals, secured the area, and put up warningboards. But who could’ve imagined someone jumping out of a helicopter here?”

“If you want, call thepolice,” I said quietly. “They’ll arrest me—but it’ll send the investigation inthe wrong direction.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Wait a minute. If youwant us involved, we need to know everything. What investigation? Who is she?Why did you both jump into the burning land? You’d better start talking. Ifanything happens to you two, we’ll be blamed. We need to know exactly what we’redealing with.”

I survived. But if shewere dead, then my survival would be unfortunate. It would mean I had lived…for nothing.

Whether she survived ornot, she must get justice. So, I decided to tell them everything.

The old farmer gave mefood, and we ate in silence, then sat with rum in our hands, the long nightstretching before us.

I reached into my pocketand pulled out the black diamond pendant. The moment my fingers touched it,memories flooded me, pulling me into another world. I took a slow breath andbegan to tell them about the Lady in Black—while, somewhere out there, the otherfarmers continued searching for her across the scorched land.