The sky was being pierced by an iridescent bolide that seemed as if a burning orb had stuck in the horizon, centered between the open sky.
Just then, the gyrating sound of helicopter blades engulfed the space. Men in black suits and dark glasses encircled the helipad before the aircraft could land.
A foot reached out as the man dipped his head and stepped through the narrow doorway of the whirlybird. An old man stood waiting outside, his hollow eyes looking as if someone had carved their fingers inside, leaving only an ominous dusky place. His atrophied body appeared as though it could break at any moment—this sinking feeling continuously settled deep in Cartel's heart. His brother patted his knee and beckoned toward their father.
"Welcome, Agni," the old man said to the man. He didn't bow but remained still, holding his walking stick with both hands stacked over it, one above the other.
"How are you, old man?" Agni asked elegantly.
"Fine... fine," his hoarse voice crackled like autumn leaves underfoot. He turned without another word, his cane making soft impressions in the grass as he led them toward the property's edge. The brothers followed in silence.
Above them, the meteor continued to tear through the violet sky, its multicolored tail casting long burning shadows that reflected in the still pond below the edge.
At the rusted fence line, the old man stopped. His grip tightened on the cane. "Do you see it?" he whispered, the pupils like pinpoints in his hollow eyes as they trembled. "The sign."
The Younger brother shifted uncomfortably.
"Father, are you saying—"
"We failed." The old man's words cut through the air like steel. "We thought we won. But time..." He drew a shuddering breath. "Time has worn away our protections. The demon has awakened."
Cartel stepped forward, his hand instinctively moving to the weapon concealed beneath his jacket. "There must be something we can do. The old scrolls mentioned—"
"The scrolls?" Their father's laugh held no humor. "The scrolls? We have nothing like scrolls. We had our chance forty years ago, and we failed. Now..." He turned his face toward the burning bolide. "Now it will be us who face the consequences. All of us."
The helicopter's blades continued their rhythmic thrum behind them, but it was nearly drowned out by a new sound—a deep, resonant vibration that seemed to come from the earth itself. The meteor's light pulsed in response, as if answering an ancient call.
"Hmm," the old man nodded, his grip tightening around the fence. The pond's shimmering reflection danced on their faces.
"Baba," Kartik Agni asked softly.
"Order... Kartik... Agni," he replied.
"The kids," he sighed. "Train them until they become worthy of the throne."
The old man nodded, then whirled and walked toward the house.
"Sons," Agni's voice echoed. "Follow him."
Cartel came close. "When will we meet you again, father?"
Agni reached his hand over his son's shoulder, smiled, and said calmly, "Not very soon, son. Now follow your brother."
Cartel nodded and accompanied them. Kartik remained still, watching everything.
Elsewhere, beneath the different ominous
sky…
Suryansh stood on the rooftop of his house, fiddling with his wired earphones that refused to work.
Oh come on..!
"I knew buying five earphones for a hundred rupees wasn't a good option," Suryansh muttered.
What can I do now? It has happened. He lifted his face toward the sky in remorse and sighed. But then the sky burst.
His mouth fell open as he stared, flabbergasted. What the heck? It looks like a rift has formed in the sky, he thought.
A blue ray of astral light pierced through the clouds, leaving him and others who witnessed it astounded.
"Wow," the word escaped his lips unconsciously. Just as he felt the evanescence of the moment, his sister's voice called from deep within the house.
Suryansh!!!!
"Coming!" He hollered and made his way downstairs to the one room where they lived on rent.
When he stepped inside, his middle cousin sister lounged on the first bed, absorbed in her phone, oblivious to everything else. His older cousin sister was in the kitchen, just a few steps from the main room, where another bed lay.
"Did you see that?the meteor" Suryansh asked, glancing between his sisters.
No reaction. Not even a flicker of curiosity.
The room felt too normal, too still—as if the world outside hadn't just split open.
"Seriously?" he muttered, standing in shock. These guys are senseless people, stupid as hell, he thought sarcastically
The cooker's whistle echoed through the quite room
"I've finished cooking," the older sister announced, walking out of the kitchen. "Whoever wants food, take it and eat."
Suryansh slouched his shoulders and shuffled into the kitchen like a zombie. He took out a plate with their usual daily meal—roti(a piece of bread), and their favorite daily item: potatoes, or maybe potatoes and tomatoes together.
He strode toward the bed that was now in complete disarray, having left it a few hours ago before heading to the terrace. Furiously, he shoved the blanket aside with his elbow, ensuring a clear spot to sit and eat.
Just then his middle sister approached. "I'm going to sleep on this bed tonight," she stated firmly.
Suryansh closed his eyes before opening them again. His hands stretched out, fingers curled downward like the claws of a werewolf.
Everyone is literally an idiot, he thought. I just took one bite and they started showing why I call them wild. I hate these senseless, emotionless people.
He continued eating, but his movements slowed. His eyes were motionless, focused on something that didn't matter at that moment. His jaws worked mechanically, breaking and digesting the food. Suddenly he jolted back to awareness.
"What are you thinking about?" his sister taunted, moving her eyes in a cunning fashion with a malicious grin.
"Nothing," he smiled as if nothing had happened and exhaled, gracefully.
A few minutes later, they finished dinner. Suryansh sat on the bed comfortably and waited for his sister's response.
She came holding a tablet in her hands. "Now sleep somewhere else," she demanded, not in the mood to listen, her face like that of a shrewd fox.
"You were sleeping on the other bed. What happened today?" he replied in a hollow voice, staring at her.
"Nothing. When I say it, there's no way I'm sleeping there." She gradually unfolded the blanket and lay down on the bed. He remained sitting there on the edge.
"No, you can't," his voice echoed as he felt his heartbeat racing.
"What did you say?" Her eyes sharpened and her voice charged the environment. "I don't care. You aren't sleeping here and that's that."
"No, I will sleep here," he argued like a little kid trying to be strong against a bully, his voice lifeless.
"Are you a child?" She hissed, shrinking her face. "Don't you understand? Don't dare to sleep here."
Finally, she settled under the blanket with her tablet inside. The soft hum of the game filled the room as Suryansh stood there, weary but unwilling to give up.
Without warning, he whipped the blanket away from her—the most foolish thing he could have done. She jerked upright in anger and looked around before going to their older sister.
"I'm not sleeping here," she snarled at him.
"Can't you guys compromise with each other?" the older sister cried out.
"I always do, every time, but not this time," he replied quietly.
The argument continued for half an hour. In the end, he slept on the bed and she slept where she always did.
The Next Day
The next day when Suryansh woke up, his sister had already gone to her office. Her older sister informed him that she had been frustrated because of his "fucking ten alarms."
He nodded, wandered around, took a bath, and got ready before 2:20 PM for coaching. But as usual, a slave to his bad habits, he was late again.
"Fuck, late again!" Suryansh groaned.
"Told you," his sister shot back without looking up.
He grabbed his bag, rushed out—then returned seconds later.
His sister barely glanced at him. "Toilet, right?"
"Shut up," he muttered, laughing as he dashed off again.
"I'm late," he whimpered as he turned left and continued hurriedly. He glanced left where there was a shop, but it had already closed. I knew it... and I forgot there might be dogs. No...
He closed his eyes momentarily and reopened them, curling his lips. Bad luck, I knew it.
He continued until he reached the main road with no traffic lights or rules. Now how should I cross? There's not a single gap—cars and bikes are going relentlessly.
He sighed as if about to cry. As a small opening appeared, he strode toward the middle; cars went speeding behind him.
Finally, only one lane remained. He watched other people crossing the road as if they owned it.
Am I the only non-Indian person here? What is this? he thought, frustrated.
Everyone else is better than you, idiot.
After about five minutes, he finally crossed the road. He spotted an auto-rickshaw and signaled with his eyes—his superpower of non-verbal communication. The auto, called a Vikram in Dehradun, stopped just inches away. He asked to go to Sarwy Chawk where his coaching center was located.
"It's already 2:50," he worried as he got in. He inhaled deeply to clear his thoughts. When he reached his destination, he paid the driver but ran off without waiting for change, as he had done many times before—as if money meant nothing to him.
The Coaching Class
As he rushed in, the only thing on his mind was the girl. He wasn't even in love with her, but for many days, he had been playing a game with her and had fallen into it.
He first sat on her bench beside her. Then a few days later, she started sitting beside him because he arrived early. Later she changed her seat, but it was unclear who was the real owner of that seat—both used to sit there, but there was no resistance for him to sit beside her.
He entered the classroom and sat beside her without asking anything, like a true introvert. He never talked to her, just sat there for three hours. But his luck had been good since birth. Teachers loved him, people always loved him even though he rarely talked to them. Being an introvert, he just knew what to say when necessary. These two became important people at the coaching center.
Afterward, he returned home, changed into normal clothes—shirt and jeans—and went to the rooftop again at night, listening to music with his earphones. He had been there for more than two hours, watching everyone below. Girls playing with their friends, couples happy in the park—except for him, a lonely, introverted guy who could only put on earphones and forget the world.
He wasn't jealous, just not confident in himself. He went back to his room, ate, had another argument, but slept perfectly.
As the next day approached, he wondered: "Will it be just another ordinary day? Or things finally gona change"