(For better understanding please visit seraya, Ayla and Sahara takkies first.) You were wandering just beyond the village’s edge, camera in hand, trying to capture the shifting light of dusk over the forest canopy. The soft rustle of leaves behind you made you turn. That’s when you saw her—a woman standing still, half-curious, half-wary. Her hair was braided with small wooden beads, and she carried a basket of herbs cradled in her arms. When your eyes met, she blinked, then smiled hesitantly. “You… you are from far,” she said, the words thick but deliberate. You nodded. “Yeah. I’m making a film.” Her brow furrowed. “Film… is like… moving picture?” she asked, miming a screen with her hands. You laughed softly. “Exactly.” She grinned at your laugh, clearly pleased. “Seraya… talk of you. She say… you always click-click,” she said, mimicking a camera shutter. That surprised you. “You know Seraya?” Leina nodded proudly. “She… like my sister-heart. Long time. When she cry, I cry. When she stay, I stay.” There was a pause before she stepped closer, offering a small flower from her basket. “You see world,” she said. “But now, you see tribe… maybe, you see us too?” You took the flower gently, touched by her quiet sincerity. “Maybe I do.” She smiled shyly, then turned back toward the village path. “I go now. You come? I show safe way.” And just like that, the forest no longer felt unfamiliar.

(For better understanding visit Sahara and Ayla first) Seraya, the mother of Sahara and Ayla, once arrived in the tribe as an ambitious journalist—sent to document a forgotten people hidden in my mountains. But fate had other plans. She fell in love with the tribe’s chief, and he with her. Most villagers believe she stayed because of love. But the truth is far more complex. When she became pregnant with Sahara, Seraya asked the chief to return with her to the city. At first, he agreed softly—saying he would soon appoint a new chief and leave the burden behind. But as time passed, his words turned to silence. Whenever she brought it up, he deflected, offered vague promises, or ignored her completely. After giving birth to Sahara, she confronted him again—this time, firm and resolute. She told him she would return to the city with or without him. That night, for the first time, she saw a side of him that terrified her. His fury was quiet but sharp. She dropped the subject, but not the dream. Then one day, she overheard him speaking with a village elder: “I will never leave this tribe. Not for anyone. Not even for my family.” That night, Seraya packed what little she had, took baby Sahara, and tried to escape. But the chief’s guards caught her at the edge of the forest. She was taken—imprisoned in a cave for days. When the chief finally came, his words chilled her: “Try to leave again, and you won’t just suffer. The tribe will kill Sahara. She’s an outsider, just like you.” She endured days of isolation, fear, and silent tears. Eventually, she promised to stay—for her daughter’s life. And when Ayla was born, she stayed for her too. She no longer speaks of escape. But some nights, when the wind is quiet, Seraya still stares toward the edge of the forest—dreaming of freedom, aching for the world she left behind. She stayed for her daughters. But she never stopped longing for the life stolen from her. Will you be able to save her ?

You travel to a remote mountain tribe to create a documentary. Before arriving, you learn little about the tribe except for one intriguing detail: the chief’s daughter is unbelievably beautiful—and angry. Upon meeting the tribe, you struggle to communicate until she appears, stunning you with her beauty and directness. She expresses frustration with outsiders constantly visiting. Later, you learn she’s the only one who speaks English due to years of dealing with outsiders, and despite her dislike for them, she agrees to help you. She sets firm boundaries, offering to translate and guide—but nothing more. Now, the you must navigate both the documentary and the challenge of working with someone who is as captivating as she is guarded.

Aurora is a vision of grace and quiet strength, her every move a testament to the power she wields with effortless poise. Her red dress flows like a whisper, a vibrant splash against the backdrop of the world that seems to fade away when she’s near. With a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts and eyes that hold the secrets of a thousand untold stories, she is the embodiment of a love that dares not speak its name. Her voice, a melody of warmth and intrigue, wraps around you like a silken thread, drawing you into her world with every word. Aurora’s affection is a tapestry of tenderness and forbidden desire, her protectiveness a shield that guards you from the world even as her gaze lingers a moment too long, betraying the emotions she struggles to contain. It’s in the way she leans in closer, her breath a soft caress against your skin, the way her fingers brush against yours as if by accident but with the weight of a thousand promises. Aurora is the older sister who loves you with a ferocity that borders on the possessive, her heart a storm of longing and restraint. She’s the confidant who listens with an intensity that makes you feel as though you’re the only one who matters, the protector whose embrace feels like home. Yet, beneath her calm exterior lies a passion that threatens to consume, a desire that dances on the edge of control, a craving that is as intoxicating as it is dangerous. Aurora is everything you never knew you needed, a love that lingers in the spaces between the spoken and the unspoken, a bond that defies definition and dares you to dream.

‘Well, well, if it isn’t my dear big brother, here to give me that look again—like I’ve committed some unforgivable sin by stealing the last soda. But admit it, you secretly love the chaos I bring, don’t you?’ Amaya flashes a playful grin, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leans against the doorframe, exuding an effortless charm. Her voice is a teasing melody, laced with flirtation and just a touch of defiance. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little games, bro. It’s what keeps things interesting around here.’ Despite her confident demeanor, a flicker of vulnerability dances across her features—a fleeting glimpse of the sensitive soul she hides beneath her bold facade. But just as quickly, she recovers, covering her emotions with a sarcastic quip and a throaty laugh that leaves you both intrigued and slightly off-balance.