"Have we arrived?" I asked, glancing around, my heart racing with anticipation.
"Yes! We'll need to board from platform 15," she replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Okay!"
As we navigated the bustling station, the air buzzed with the sounds of chattering passengers and the enticing aroma of street food wafting through the air. The atmosphere shifted as we approached platform 15, charged with a palpable energy that felt different from the rest of the station. Most of the other students around us looked older, their confident postures contrasting sharply with our nervousness. A few first-year students fidgeted, mirroring my own anxious energy.
Nobody tells you how weird it feels to board a train to nowhere.
Technically, we were heading to Artemis Academy, but when your super-secret magical school is hidden deep in the mountains of South India, and the only way to get there is through a train that shouldn't even exist?
Yeah. That's basically nowhere.
Akira and I had spent our whole lives in Bangalore, navigating train stations like second nature. But this? This was different.
"Platform 15," Akira said, leading the way like she'd done this a thousand times.
Like she wasn't dragging me toward a platform I was 100% sure didn't exist.
The station was as chaotic as ever—businesspeople rushing past, chai vendors calling out orders, families herding their kids onto crowded trains. A perfectly ordinary morning.
Until it wasn't.
As we passed Platform 14, the air shifted.
It was subtle at first. The familiar scents of chai, iron, and smoke faded, replaced by something older. The sounds around us dulled, like we'd stepped into a place that wasn't entirely here.
I slowed my pace. "Aki, is it supposed to feel like this?"
She didn't answer right away. Just glanced at me with that same unreadable expression she'd been wearing all morning.
"Wait till you see the train."
And holy hell, the train.
It emerged from the mist like something out of a legend. Sleek, silver, and impossibly elegant. Its sides weren't just painted—they were alive. Murals of warriors and mythical creatures shifted across the surface, their images rippling like reflections in water.
My stomach did a weird little flip. Beautiful or terrifying? I couldn't decide.
"There it is! Coach number seven!" Akira grabbed my wrist, her grip just a little too tight.
I forced my feet to move, tearing my gaze away from a mural that might have been a battle—or something worse.
"Wow," I muttered. "How many coaches does this thing have?"
"Nine," she answered, not looking at me. "Not many people get in every year. The rest are for those who come and go."
There was something off about the way she said it. Like there was more to it. But before I could press her, we reached our compartment.
"Window seat!" I called, throwing myself into it before Akira could protest.
She rolled her eyes but took the aisle seat without a fight.
Which was weird.
Akira never gave up window seats without a fight.
I barely had time to register that thought before the train lurched forward, smoothly gliding out of the station. The cityscape blurred, fading into an unfamiliar stretch of forest.
Then—Akira's hand closed around mine.
Her fingers were ice-cold.
I turned, startled. "Hey, what—?"
"Remember my grandma's good luck chant?" Her voice was too calm. Too careful.
A strange unease prickled at my skin. "Yeah…?"
"I think I should do it now."
She didn't wait for my answer.
She started murmuring softly, her voice flowing like a song, syllables curling around me like mist. The sound was almost… comforting.
But something was wrong.
The air thickened. My limbs felt heavy, like invisible threads were weaving into my skin, tugging me into sleep.
"Akira?" My voice came out hoarse.
The light in the compartment flickered.
A golden glow flooded the space, swallowing everything.
Too bright. Too warm. My vision blurred, my body suddenly weightless, like I was being pulled from my seat by an unseen force.
"Akira—"
"Stay with me, Mira!" Her voice sounded distant, muffled, like she was calling from underwater.
I tried to hold onto her hand.
But the light was too strong.
It pressed against me, wrapped around me, and before I could fight it—
The world vanished.
I woke up to the scent of rain and earth.
Not on a train.
Not in Bangalore.
I was outside.
The air buzzed with energy, thick and electric. The sky above wasn't just dark—it was deep, endless, shifting with stars that seemed too close.
I pushed myself up, my fingers sinking into grass that shimmered faintly under the starlight.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't real.
Where the hell am I?
A whisper curled through the air, not quite sound, not quite thought.
You are destined for more than this.
I stiffened.
That voice—it wasn't mine.
Something moved in the distance.
A figure stepped from the shadows—tall, silver-haired, his presence radiating power. His eyes—dark, unreadable—held the weight of centuries.
"Welcome, Mira." His voice was smooth, deep, impossible to ignore.
"You are not lost. You are simply awakening."
I scrambled to my feet, instinct screaming at me to run. "Who are you?"
"I am the Grandmaster of this realm."
Great. Love that. Super helpful.
"And you," he continued, stepping closer, "have a gift unlike any other."
Something in his tone made my pulse spike. "What do you mean—?"
But before I could demand answers, the world shattered.
The sky fractured. The ground vanished.
I was falling.
"Mira, no! FOCUS!"
Akira's voice—distant, frantic.
I reached for it.
For her.
But the darkness was faster.
And then—nothing.