The light swelled until it swallowed everything.
The air turned thick and heavy with the scent of burnt stone and ozone.
Aarav tried to speak, but the words dissolved in the roar of energy.
The Trident in his hand flickered once, then dimmed, its glow sinking into his veins.
He stumbled, his knees hitting the cracked floor.
Sameer's ring burned faintly, the circle of gold pulsing with a steady rhythm like a heartbeat not his own.
He tried to lift his hand, but his vision blurred; the world around him shimmered and fractured like glass.
Riya's bangles coiled tight around her wrists, the violet threads dimming as though they were drawing back into sleep.
She reached toward Sameer, whispering his name but her voice was swallowed by the deep hum of the chamber.
Kabir managed a single step before the red glow around his armlets faded.
He exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his body.
The last thing he saw was the ancient runes on the floor fading one by one, like stars vanishing at dawn.
A soft wind moved through the ruins, cold and ancient carrying dust and whispers.
Then silence.
One by one, they fell.
Aarav collapsed first, then Sameer beside him, Riya leaning against a cracked pillar, Kabir falling last, his hand still half-clenched in defiance.
The Trident's last spark flickered across the ground and sank into the stone, leaving a faint circle of light beneath them.
For a moment, it almost looked like the earth itself was watching over them—four figures asleep beneath the gaze of forgotten gods.
And then the light went out.
Darkness.
Stillness.
Only the quiet rhythm of their breathing remained.
The morning sun spilled like honey over the fields. Dew clung to the tall blades of rice, glimmering in the light, and the gentle hum of wind filled the air. Aarav stood ankle-deep in the water, his rolled-up dhoti soaked, mud between his toes. His hands moved rhythmically, guiding young shoots into the soft earth, one after another. Each motion felt calm, almost like breathing.
"Bhaiya, look!" a little girl's voice rang out from the edge of the field. She held up a frog cupped in her tiny hands, grinning from ear to ear. The frog wriggled free,
"watch out!, Revika!" shouted Aarav
The frog splashing back into the water, and she burst out laughing. Aarav laughed too, a soft, genuine sound that mixed with the rustling of the crops and the cooing of doves from a nearby tree.
He splashed a little water at her in playful revenge, and she squealed, jumping away, pretending to be angry though her laughter gave her away. Her braids swung wildly as she ran, and Aarav just shook his head with a smile, watching her dance along the narrow paths between the fields.
The air smelled of wet soil and young grain. A distant cowbell chimed as the herd moved near the stream. Aarav paused for a moment, closing his eyes to feel the wind brush against his face cool, alive, carrying the scent of home.
Revika returned with a bundle of wildflowers, placing them in his hair with all the seriousness of a priest performing a ritual.
"There," she said proudly, "now you're the king of the fields!"
Aarav laughed again, tilting his head just enough for the flowers to stay in place. "Then you're my little queen," he said, handing her a stalk of rice like a scepter.
The two stood there for a while. The boy and his sister bathed in sunlight, the world around them still and golden. Nothing seemed to rush, nothing seemed to threaten. Just the rhythm of life, simple and peaceful the way the earth had always meant it to be.
The golden light of the fields began to flicker once, twice like a flame struggling against the wind. Aarav blinked, confused. Revika's laughter echoed in his ears, but it began to distort, stretching thin and hollow. The sky darkened unnaturally, the warmth draining from the air.
Then the sound came a thunderous crack. The field split apart beneath his feet. The scent of wet soil turned sharp and bitter, thick with smoke and burning metal. When Aarav looked up, the blue sky was gone. In its place burned a blood-red horizon, and the air shook with the deep roar of fire.
He stumbled forward, barefoot, into a nightmare. The rice fields were gone, replaced by a wasteland of ash and broken ground. Around him, cries of battle and clashing metal tore through the air. Bullets hissed past. The wind carried the choking smell of gunpowder, burnt flesh, and fear.
Aarav's heart pounded. He turned in every direction, his voice raw and cracking
"Revika! Revika, where are you?"
He ran, stumbling over bodies and broken tools, through clouds of dust and smoke. The world burned in every direction.
Then he saw it.
A corner of yellow cloth, half-buried beneath a mound of rubble and blackened wood.
He froze.
The sound around him fell away, no screams, no fire, no wind. Just the hollow silence of disbelief. Slowly, he knelt and pushed aside the debris with trembling hands. Beneath it lay Revika still, pale, her small hand reaching toward the open sky. The same beaded bracelet he'd made for her glimmered faintly through the rubble.
Her eyes once full of light were closed, as if asleep.
Aarav's breath caught. The world blurred as his vision filled with tears he couldn't even feel. His hand shook as he brushed the dust from her face.
"No… Revika, wake up," he whispered. "Please… you have to wake up."
But she didn't move. The sky above cracked again, a fiery red flash slicing through the smoke. Ash fell like snow. Aarav screamed a sound of pure grief, swallowed by the chaos around him.
And just as he reached out to hold her
The ground beneath him shattered, light bursting from the cracks, pulling him downward.
He gasped and jolted awake.