Present time in human world
A family rushed out of their car, panic written all over their faces, and hurried into the police station. The group included a young couple—a man and his wife—and an elderly man, the husband's father. At the station's desk, they pleaded desperately with the officers.
"Please, sir, help me find my child!" the man begged, his voice trembling with urgency, barely holding back tears. "He's only one year old. Please, I'm begging you!" His despair was evident, and his words were almost breaking as he spoke.
The man's wife, her face streaked with tears, cried out, "They… they came in a black van and took my baby! Please, I'll do anything—just bring my child back!" Her voice cracked with pain, her heart unable to bear the thought of being separated from her son.
The elderly man, sharp despite his age, leaned forward, his anger palpable. "Don't just sit there! Do something before those bastards get away with my grandson! If you don't act now, I'll make sure every one of you loses your job!" he thundered, attempting to intimidate the officers into action.
The officer at the desk raised his hand, motioning for silence. "I understand your situation," he said firmly. "Please, calm down for a moment and tell me—where did you last see them? We'll start from there."
The young officer, Samradh, spoke in a calm yet concerned tone, his expression confused but sympathetic, overwhelmed by the family's pleas and threats.
"In the local market, in front of the clothing center," Anu, the mother, replied between sobs.
Aditya, the father, placed a reassuring hand on her head. "Believe in God," he said gently. "Nothing bad will happen to our child."
Samradh exchanged a glance with the elderly man, whose stern face softened briefly into one of pleading. "Please, find our kid," the grandfather whispered hoarsely.
Taking a deep breath, Samradh stood up and assured them, "Leave it to me. I promise I'll find your child and bring those monsters to justice."
---
Later that night…
A van rumbled along a dark, forested road. Inside were three men.
The driver, Jimmy, grinned maliciously. "Hey, can we sell his organs or something?" he suggested.
"Shut up, Jimmy," snapped Akib, seated beside him. "We're not doing anything to him. Keeping him alive is more valuable."
Jimmy frowned. "How's that, Akib?"
Akib smirked. "His grandfather was the head of DRDO, and his father works at the National Bank. We can ransom him for money and sensitive information. Once we have it, we can sell the data to foreign spy agencies like the CIA—or even terrorists. We'll make a fortune."
In the back of the van, Riyan tried to quiet the crying baby. "I can't wait to get my hands on that money. Drive faster, Jimmy!" he called out, his voice laced with anticipation.
But Akib suddenly felt a chill as cold air swept through the van. He looked up, startled. "Jimmy… the roof. What happened to the roof?"
Jimmy glanced up, then back at Akib. "What the—?"
Akib turned to check on the baby. "Riyan is the baby—" His words were cut short by a scream as he saw Riyan's lifeless body—his head no longer attached.
"Jimmy! What's going on?!" Akib yelled, panic setting in.
Before Jimmy could respond, he saw it—a massive, humanoid figure with the body of a man but the head and wings of a bird. It hovered above the van, blocking the moonlight. In terror, Jimmy lost control of the vehicle, crashing into a tree.
Crawling out of the wreckage, Jimmy looked up, his body trembling in pain. The dark figure was still there, its black feathers glistening under the faint moonlight. And then, it vanished into the night.
---
At the family's home…
The doorbell rang. The grandmother, weary and tearful, rushed to the door, hoping for news. "Did you find—?" she began, but her voice caught in her throat.
Standing at the door was the same dark figure, its birdlike form imposing and otherworldly. It held the baby gently in its clawed hands. "Take him," it rasped, its voice deep and otherworldly.
Trembling, the grandmother reached out. As soon as she took the baby, the figure vanished into thin air.
---
Morning…
The alarm buzzed. A hand emerged from beneath a blanket to shut it off. A young boy, Vikram, sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes.
"Vikram! Hurry up, or you'll be late for college!" Anu called from the kitchen.Early morning, when the mist still clings to the streets and the cold air begs everyone to stay in bed till afternoon, a sharp voice breaks through the silence.
"Vikram! Vikram! How long are you planning to sleep? Or are you trying to graduate in your dreams? Hurry up!"
The voice comes from the kitchen, where Anu is busy flipping an omelet.
In his room, a young boy, Vikram, stirs in bed. He tries pretending he hasn't heard the yelling, pulling his blanket tighter, but there's no escaping his fate. The alarm has gone off long ago, silenced with the promise of "just five more minutes."
Still half-asleep, he groans and finally sits up, rubbing his eyes. Maybe it's those hauntingly beautiful yet not dressed at all ladies on the internet that have kept him awake. He mutters, "Who the hell goes to college this early, anyway?"
From the kitchen, Anu fires back, her tone as sharp as the spatula in her hand. "Apparently, only you, because it's already eight in the morning!"
The mention of time jolts Vikram awake. "Eight?!" he exclaims, though his body still refuses to leave the warmth of what feels like heaven—his bed. Reluctantly, he drags himself out, shivering as the cold air hits him.
"Stop yelling so early in the morning," he grumbles as he shuffles toward the bathroom. "Give me a minute to wake up properly!"
Anu doesn't miss a beat. "That's what you said yesterday, and the day before that. By the time you're 'properly awake,' your class will be over!"
Inside the bathroom, Vikram grins faintly at his mother's banter while brushing his teeth. Another day, another morning battle.
---
Anu is in the kitchen, making breakfast for everyone and packing lunch boxes for Vikram and his father. Meanwhile, in the adjoining dining room, Vikram's father, Aditya, sits with an air of relaxed composure that even the gods of heaven would envy. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, he looks splendid and classy, enjoying his tea as if he has no worries in the world.
His breakfast sits untouched before him as he reads the morning newspaper, a faintly serious expression on his face. Suddenly, a shiver runs down his spine as he senses an ominous presence—not of a demon, but of his wife, Anu.
Aditya tilts his head back with a forced smile, already bracing for impact. "What is it? Or did I forget something?" he asks cautiously.
Anu steps into the doorway, wearing a matching fake smile. "What are you reading when you're supposed to be educating your son? No wonder he's like you—just like father, like son," she quips.
Both of them start laughing. "Ha ha ha ha."
Anu returns to the kitchen, her smile lingering as she resumes her tasks. Meanwhile, Aditya's smile fades into frustration as he sighs and leans back in his chair. He mutters to himself about always being dominated by his wife but soon refocuses on his newspaper, resigned to his fate. "What are you reading?" a sudden voice from in front startles Aditya. As he scrambles to catch his cup of tea, he barely manages to save it—though not without spilling its contents all over the table.
"What the—! You startled me!" Aditya exclaims, leaning back in his chair and hurriedly wiping the tea off the table and his hand. He looks up to see Vikram walking into the dining hall, buttoning up his uniform.
What are you reading?" A sudden voice from in front startles Aditya. His hand jerks, and the cup of tea wobbles dangerously before he barely manages to save it—though not without spilling half its contents onto the table.
"What the—! You startled me!" Aditya snaps, leaning back in his chair and shaking tea off his hand. He grabs a napkin, glaring up as Vikram walks into the dining hall, still buttoning his uniform.
Aditya adjusts his position, sinking deeper into the chair. His eyes drift back to the newspaper in his hands, his expression sharp but distant, as though piecing something together. Finally, he speaks, "Another day, another scam. Some guy submitted fake loan applications to a bank, approved them himself, and pocketed commissions. Bold move."
Vikram raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint, admiring smile. "Ambitious," he murmurs, stepping closer. But before Aditya can reply, something else in the paper catches Vikram's eye. Leaning slightly over Aditya's shoulder, he reads aloud, his tone shifting from curiosity to disbelief: "A man dies in a toilet after forcing himself to... you know. They found his intestines stuffed with feathers."
Aditya freezes mid-swipe, the napkin hovering over a tea puddle. Slowly, he looks up at Vikram, his face blank with incredulity. "What the hell are you reading?" he deadpans. "Just sit down, eat your breakfast, and leave the news to me."
Vikram's ears flush red as he straightens up. "It's right here!" he protests weakly, waving at the paper, but the embarrassed roll of his eyes betrays him. He sighs loudly—a sound that practically echoes in the dining hall—before pulling out a chair and slumping into it.
Aditya shakes his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he folds the newspaper. "Next time, try not to ruin my morning with... whatever that was," he mutters.