I woke up, and everything was wrong in the most terrifying way it was quiet.
Not the quiet of ruin, not the silence of a post collapse world filled with ash and dread, but the warm, familiar silence of home. The silence that used to greet me on school holidays the lazy hum of a ceiling fan, the soft rustle of trees outside my window, the distant bark of a neighborhood dog.
I stared at the ceiling above me, heart thudding, breath uneven. It wasn't scorched. It wasn't cracked. It was the same old patched up ceiling of my room the one I used to stick glow in the dark stars to. My fingers trembled as I reached out and touched the bedsheet. Cotton. Clean. No dust. No blood. The sun filtered softly through the curtains, not the bruised sky of the broken world, but Delhi's familiar golden morning light. I sat up slowly. My limbs didn't ache like they used to.
My bones didn't feel like they'd been forged in survival. I was whole. Untouched. Alive. I rose, legs a little shaky, and took slow, cautious steps toward the door, half expecting the floor to give way or the hallway to shift into some nightmarish corridor again but it didn't.
Outside my room, the hallway stretched just as I remembered it paint chipped on the corners, a framed picture of our family from Mussoorie still hanging slightly crooked on the wall. I moved like I was in a dream, like one wrong step would snap the illusion.
My breath caught in my throat as I reached the end of the hallway and looked out across the living room.
It was all there. The same couch with Dad's worn police jacket draped over the armrest. The dusty shelf of old books and half functioning remotes. The faint aroma of chai drifting in from the kitchen. I took a shaky step forward and then another.
The mirror by the door caught my reflection and I froze. My face. My original face. Not weathered by battle, not smeared with blood or caked in dirt. My school uniform was still neatly hanging on the back of the chair, and my hair the stubborn mess it always was had returned.
For a second, a terrifying thought twisted inside me: It was all a dream. All of it. Aman, Naina, Aanchal, the floating cities, the rebellion… Adhivita. Had I imagined it all? Had I dreamed up a war-torn future and turned myself into a hero because I couldn't face the ordinariness of real life?
Then I heard it. The voice that snapped everything into clarity.
"Shivam! Dikshant! Come down, breakfast is ready!"
My mother's voice. Unmistakable. Warm, sharp around the edges, laced with that familiar tone of mild irritation and deep love. And then another door opened at the same time as mine.
I turned my head and there he was. Dikshant. Standing across the hall. Same sleep rumpled hair. Same wide, startled eyes. The same realization blooming across his face. His lips trembled. "It happened," he whispered. "It really happened." I didn't say anything I couldn't.
I crossed the hall and we collided in a hug so fierce it knocked the breath out of me. For a long moment, we just stood there in each other's arms, shaking, holding on like the world might vanish again if we let go.
Then we moved. Down the stairs. Past the framed photo of Dad from his early days in uniform. Into the kitchen where the smells hit us like a tidal wave of memory toasted bread, boiling tea, fried eggs. Dad sat at the table in full uniform; his badge gleaming.
He glanced up, surprised, then frowned. "You two, okay?" he asked, brow furrowed. Mom turned from the stove, a ladle in her hand, her expression frozen in mid thought. Neither of us answered. We didn't need to. We ran to them.
Arms wrapped tight around Dad first, then Mom. We didn't say anything, not even when she dropped the ladle and reached out to hold our faces, asking if we were hurt.
We just cried. For everything we'd seen. For the people we lost. For the home we never thought we'd see again. For the simple, ordinary miracle of being here. In one piece. In this world.
We didn't ask why or how. That part could wait. For now… we were back. And for the first time since the skies cracked and the world turned upside down, we were safe.
The streets of Delhi had never looked so clean. So… normal.
The breeze was warm, just on the edge of summer, carrying with it the usual smells of diesel, boiling chai, and dust. There were street vendors on the corner again. Dogs barking in the distance. Scooters zipped past, honking like it was the most important thing in the world.
For a second, I thought I might throw up.
I couldn't decide what was more disorienting how familiar everything was… or how none of it looked broken anymore.
Dikshant walked beside me, silent. Not in fear this time, but in awe. His eyes scanned the surroundings like he didn't trust any of it. Like this version of the city might shatter under his gaze and pull us back into the ruins.
We passed the bangle stall near the corner shop. The same woman sat there same green sari, same voice yelling at a customer for bargaining too hard. She hadn't aged a day. I couldn't tell if it made me feel relieved or sick.
"Did this even happen?" I whispered.
Dikshant didn't answer. But his hand brushed against mine, and in that one touch, I knew he remembered. Just like me.
When the metro station came into view, I stopped walking.
Everything inside me froze.
It looked exactly the same. The same steel and glass structure. The same buzzing card scanner. The same LED signs flashing train times.
It was the place where everything had broken. Where time had cracked. Where we had lost our world.
But here… it was fine. Polished. Crowded with people on their daily commutes. No blood. No screams. No robotic knights tearing through the floor.
The accident… never happened.
We walked through the entrance together, past the guards, past the stale smell of metal and oil that clung to the air like an old ghost.
Then we stepped onto the platform.
I didn't even need to look twice. I knew them the second I saw them.
Aman, leaning back like nothing ever phased him, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the platform like always.
Naina, holding a book, her lips moving as she read without noticing the world around her. Some things didn't change.
Aanchal, pacing. Hands behind her back. Tapping her foot impatiently. Waiting for the metro. Or maybe something else.
They didn't see us at first. And then they did.
Aman blinked, once. Naina's book fell from her fingers. Aanchal froze mid step. I didn't move. And then just like that we ran.
I didn't even know who moved first. We just crashed into each other. Five people who had been through hell and somehow landed back where we started.
We didn't say a word. Not at first. Just arms wrapping around each other. Laughter choked with disbelief. Aanchal thumping Dikshant's back like she wasn't sure he was real.
Aman crushed me into his shoulder and muttered, "Bro. You're back." Naina's voice was shaky. "I thought we'd never" "I know," I whispered. "Me too."
Around us, people stared. We must've looked crazy hugging and crying and laughing like we'd just escaped a war.
Which, I guess… we had. The train rolled up behind us, sleek and cold and ordinary. It wasn't the monster from that day. It was just a train.
I looked at the others. Their clothes. Their eyes. Their scars, even if they were invisible now. We were here. We were alive. And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, we didn't have to run.
School looked exactly the same.
Same gates. Same peeling paint. Same dusty smell of chalk and ambition.
I should've felt at ease. This was the place I'd spent most of my time pretending to pay attention while my mind drifted elsewhere. But now, walking through the main corridor, I felt like I was somewhere foreign. Everything was right, but I wasn't.
The courtyard buzzed with life. Students shouting, teachers chasing them into lines. Notes being frantically copied. Someone yelled about a surprise test. The world had kept turning, unaware of how close it came to disappearing.
I walked beside Aman and Naina, while Dikshant ran ahead. Aanchal trailed just behind, quiet but smiling. We didn't say much. Maybe we were all afraid to break whatever spell had brought us back.
That's when I saw them Anchal Rathod and her group.
She walked with purpose, as always, her eyes scanning the hallway like it was a battlefield. Beside her, Pawan talked animatedly, gesturing with his hands. Anchal didn't say much, but she nodded occasionally, like she was hearing more than he was saying.
A few steps behind, Sumit strutted with his usual swagger, headphones around his neck. The world could burn, and he'd still move to his own beat.
Mansi and Suchitra came next. Mansi wasn't coughing anymore. Her skin looked healthier, brighter. Whatever sickness had followed her through the old world had stayed behind.
They all looked like students again.
Just kids.
I didn't even know who moved first, but we ended up near each other, paused between classes. No words. No greetings. Just a quiet understanding.
Pawan smiled. I smiled back.
Sumit gave a short wave and raised his eyebrows like, "We really survived that, huh?"
Anchal looked at us, then at the others, and nodded once. It was enough.
We reached out. Clasped hands. A few hugs. A shoulder bump or two. There was no ceremony to it. Just the feeling that this… this was the true end of it all.
The final chapter.
But even as I laughed with them, my eyes drifted to the classroom window. Something in me tugged something soft, and familiar.
Adhivita. I didn't see her, but I thought of her. Her voice. Her strength. The way she had changed. The way we both had.
The classroom blurred. And for a heartbeat, the world changed.
I saw another sky soft silver clouds rolling over towers rebuilt from ashes. I saw Adhivita standing tall on a raised platform, wearing a royal sash draped across her shoulder. Her hair was longer now. Her eyes calmer. She was older. Wiser.
She wasn't the same girl I had met in the shadows of a broken world.
She was Queen now. Vidhart stood to her right, in black armor with a silver crest. He looked different too more controlled, more focused. The Rebellion was no longer a desperate hope. It was a real force now. Organized. Respected.
On her left, Agastya stood like a ghost turned solid. His sharp eyes and composed stance made him look more like a strategist than a mystic. He didn't need to speak. She already knew what he'd say.
The executions were brief. Lavin was the first to fall. No mercy. No last words.
Then they carried Navik's body away, sealed in iron and silence. His legacy buried beneath layers of earth and time. The city that had once screamed in pain now whispered with life.
Noctirum didn't fuel weapons anymore. It flowed through hospitals, power grids, water channels. It was still dangerous but it was being used to rebuild, not destroy.
Years passed in the blink of a thought.
I saw Adhivita again alone, older now. Standing before a statue in the middle of a garden surrounded by glowing trees. The statue wasn't of her. It was of me.
Not grand. Not shining. Just a simple bronze figure. Standing with one hand raised, like I was reaching toward something nobody else could see. She held a single white flower in her hand.
She knelt, placed it gently at the base of the statue, and stood back in silence. No words. No prayer. Just… peace. And then, just like that, the world pulled me back. Back to Delhi. Back to my desk. Back to this side of reality.
I blinked and realized my name had just been called for attendance. I mumbled "Present" and rubbed the back of my neck. No one noticed anything. But something had changed. Inside, I felt quiet. Not broken. Not missing. Just… still. And in that stillness, I knew: It was over.
Two months passed. Not in chaos. Not in war. Just time ordinary, beautiful, uninterrupted time. The kind I had almost forgotten could exist. The kind where alarms meant school, not sirens. Where mornings meant breakfast with chai and toast, not hunger and ash. The kind where days were slow enough to notice.
I changed. Not in some big, dramatic way. No powers, no spotlight. But something in me settled. I paid attention in class. I studied harder. I stayed after school to finish assignments. I trained longer on the field, working on my stamina, my focus. I didn't know what I was preparing for. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But I couldn't go back to who I was before not after what I had seen.
The others had changed too. Aman was sharper now, less distracted, like the battlefield had taught him discipline he never knew he needed. Naina still carried her books, still remembered every date and formula but sometimes I caught her staring out windows longer than necessary, like she was searching for something beyond the pages. Aanchal still had her edge, but it was quieter now. More patient. Like she didn't need to prove anything anymore. And Dikshant he was growing into something strong. Not just physically, but mentally. More present. More driven. My kid brother, once annoying, now someone I trusted without hesitation.
We stayed connected, all of us. Not loudly. Just enough. We sat near each other during lunch. Shared glances during class. Met up after school on Fridays. Like a team that didn't need reminders they just knew.
Sometimes I passed the metro station and stared at it for a while. Nothing had changed there. The trains still arrived on time. People still pushed past each other in a hurry. No one remembered what happened. But I did. We did. The station felt like a monument no one else could see. A place where everything ended and began all at once.
That morning felt normal. Just another school day. I was almost late. Dad handed me my tiffin. Mom scolded me for forgetting my belt. Dikshant was yelling something about his science project. For a few seconds, life was messy and loud and perfect.
Then the assembly happened.
The principal walked in halfway through the national anthem. Everyone got quiet fast. He had that look on his face the one that meant something out of the ordinary was about to drop. He tapped the mic and cleared his throat. "We have a new student joining us today," he said. "A rare mid-session transfer. Please make her feel welcome."
She stepped forward.
She looked... unreal.
Not in the way people use that word casually. I mean it literally. She looked like someone who had wandered in from a story. Her uniform was crisp. Her posture calm. Her expression unreadable. But it was her eyes that did it. There was something behind them. Something ancient. Something familiar.
"My name is Bhumika," she said. "I just moved here."
That's all. Just a name.
But it hit me like thunder.
Because in that moment, every piece I thought I had left behind came rushing back.
Her face. Her features. They weren't just familiar they were identical. To someone else. Someone long gone.
Adhivita's mother. The one from the portrait we saw in Navik's room when we were there before the explosion. Navik's wife. The face that had watched over empires and battles and secrets. And now... she was here.
She walked past me, eyes brushing mine. Just for a second. And she smiled. Not the kind you give a stranger. The kind you give someone you've been waiting to see again.
I didn't smile back. I couldn't.
Because suddenly, I wasn't sure if our story had ended. Maybe it never would. Some endings look like beginnings. Some battles come back wearing different faces. And sometimes, the world resets just to see if you're ready to remember.