The tension in the healer's hut was thick. Shubham lay unconscious on the bed, Vrusha sat nearby, too shaken to speak, and everyone else stood around like they were waiting for something—anything—to make sense. It didn't help that the mysterious Ronan Thorne, the guy who had popped in earlier with cryptic messages, was leaning casually against the wall, looking like he knew more than he was letting on.
Ronan was tall, with dark hair streaked with silver, and had the look of someone who was about to drop a bombshell... or order a fancy drink at some shadowy tavern. His face was calm, but there was something about him that screamed I know stuff, but I'm not telling you yet.
"I suppose you have questions," Ronan said, breaking the silence with a tone so smooth it could've sold ice to a polar bear.
Atlas crossed his arms, glaring. "You think? Who are you? And why should we trust you?"
Ronan smirked, clearly enjoying the mystery. "My name's Ronan Thorne. I've been keeping an eye on all of you for a while. The Order of the Horizon isn't your only problem, but I can help... if you're willing to listen."
Jake frowned. "Keeping an eye on us? That sounds a little... stalkerish, don't you think?"
Ronan chuckled. "Call it... observing from a distance. Stalking sounds so criminal."
Lexi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, the last guy who said he was 'watching over us' tried to throw lightning bolts at our heads." To top it all off, Atlas looked like he was ready to punch something—or someone.
But then, as if summoned by some weird cosmic joke, Harsh Ramlingam burst through the door, completely oblivious to the grim situation. His wild hair flopped over his face, and a huge grin stretched across his face.
"Yo, what's up, my people? Guess what? I just got free dosa from the street vendor after telling him about my last breakup. Dude even gave me extra chutney—said I 'needed it more than anyone else,'" Harsh said with a dramatic flair, pointing to himself.
Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harsh, this really isn't the time."
Harsh blinked, finally noticing Shubham lying on the bed like a half-baked pizza. "Oh, whoa. Shubham, bro, what happened to you? Did someone cast the 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' spell on you?"
Lexi stifled a laugh while Atlas groaned, "Harsh... seriously?"
Ronan, standing against the wall with his arms crossed, smirked slightly. "Seems like you have a... colorful friend here."
Harsh puffed his chest, clearly misunderstanding the tone. "That's right! I bring color to every situation. Like a human meme." He leaned over to Jake and whispered loudly, "So... who's the weird Uncle over there?"
Jake sighed. "He says he's here to help us."
"Oh," Harsh said, nodding sagely. "One of those guys."
The moment of bizarre calm was broken when Harsh suddenly launched into his personal drama, as if someone had hit 'play' on his tragic backstory playlist.
"Anyway," Harsh began, dramatically leaning against the wall, "this break-up has been tough, man. Tougher than a level 99 boss fight with no save points. She said I wasn't serious enough. Serious—can you believe it?"
Atlas shot him a deadpan look. "Gee, I wonder why."
Harsh ignored the sarcasm and continued, "I told her, 'Babe, I'm not just funny. I'm deep. Like... 'Pacific Ocean.' She didn't get it. Honestly, it was like dating a Muggle."
Lexi snorted. "Sounds like you dodged a curse, honestly."
"Right?" Harsh said, nodding furiously. "Anyway, I've decided I'm going on a soul-searching journey. Probably gonna grow a beard. Get mysterious. Maybe learn how to play the lute."
Jake was trying not to laugh, but Harsh's tragic expression was making it hard. Even Vrusha, who had been silent and haunted since the fight with Maya, seemed on the verge of cracking a smile.
Despite the chaos Harsh brought in with him, Ronan decided it was time to drop a bit more info—just to keep everyone on edge. "Look, as entertaining as this is, we've got bigger problems. The Order of the Horizon isn't your only threat. There's something darker coming."
Harsh, still completely clueless, perked up. "Darker than my love life? That's saying something."
Jake sighed. "Harsh, for real, we almost got wiped out by Maya and Atanu."
Harsh's grin faded a little. "Oh. Yeah... that's, uh, not great. So what's the plan? Do we throw more magic at them, or should we, I don't know, talk it out over some more dosa?"
Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered. A chill filled the air, making everyone freeze (except Harsh, who looked like he was wondering if someone forgot to pay the electricity bill).
Then, out of nowhere, the door creaked open again. Slowly.
Everyone turned as a tall, cloaked figure stepped into the room. His face was hidden in shadow, his whole vibe screaming mysterious stranger with bad news. The air grew colder, and even Harsh stopped talking for once.
The figure's voice was low and unsettling. "You seek strength, but you are not ready. Without control, you will fail. I can show you the way."
Atlas, not in the mood for more riddles, clenched his fists. "Who are you?"
The figure's eyes glowed faintly from under the hood
. "Names are not important. What matters is that I can help you survive."
Harsh, ever the master of bad timing, muttered, "Right, because creepy strangers in cloaks are always so trustworthy. Can we get some background music to go with this ominous vibe?"
The stranger ignored Harsh, continuing as if nothing happened. "If you wish to defeat the Order, you need discipline. You lack control, and that will be your downfall."
Lexi crossed her arms. "So what, you're offering to train us?"
The figure's gaze lingered on her for a moment. "If you wish to live... yes."
Harsh raised a hand like he was in class. "Uh, is this training gonna require, like, running? Because if so, I'm out."
Ronan, still watching with that knowing smile, stepped forward. "You'd do well to listen to him. He knows what he's talking about."
Harsh whispered loudly to Jake, "What's with all these mysterious guys showing up lately? It's like a weird audition for a dramatic play."
Before anyone could respond, the lights flickered again, and the figure vanished into the shadows, leaving only a cold breeze behind.
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Then Harsh, with impeccable timing, said, "Okay, who's up for getting some dosas? I think we need carbs to process whatever the heck just happened."
Just as everyone started to relax (or in Harsh's case, plan out his next snack), the door creaked open again. But this time, it wasn't another mysterious figure—it was Tirth Salsa, looking as serious as ever.
Atlas immediately tensed. "Tirth, what's going on?"
Tirth's face was grim, his usual calm expression clouded with concern. "Something's happened... it's Dheeraj."
Jake's heart skipped a beat. "What? What happened to Dheeraj?"
Tirth shook his head. "He's missing. I sensed something dark near his home. I think the Order of the Horizon might have him."
The room went completely silent. Even Harsh didn't have a joke this time. The laughter and lightness disappeared in an instant, replaced by a sinking dread.
"Dheeraj's... gone?" Lexi whispered, her face paling.
Atlas slammed a fist into the wall, his voice tight with anger. "We need to find him. Now."
Tirth nodded. "We don't have much time. If the Order has him..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Everyone knew what that meant.
And just like that, the jokes, the banter, and the awkwardness faded as the group realized one terrifying truth: the real battle had just begun.