Kiaan's Room — Evening Settles Quietly
The small night lamp glowed softly in the corner of Kiaan's room, casting warm circles of light across his scattered toys.
Kiaan sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped, his school shoes still on as though he hadn't had the heart to take them off. He traced a line on the bedsheet with his finger, lost in thoughts much too big for someone his age.
A gentle knock sounded.
Bhoomi stepped inside, her presence warm like a blanket around winter-cold shoulders.
She saw his hunched form and her expression softened.
"Kiaan," she called softly.
He looked up—his eyes wide, glossy, confused—and Bhoomi's heart squeezed.
She came to sit beside him, smoothing his hair in one slow stroke.
"You didn't even change your uniform," she murmured.
Kiaan shrugged, his lower lip trembling. "Dadi… is Papa very angry? I… I was only trying to help."
Bhoomi let out a slow breath, cupping his cheek. "Your Papa isn't angry at you, beta. He is worried. That's all."
Kiaan blinked up at her, whispering, "But… is it wrong to help someone by lying?"
There was a small, heavy pause—Bhoomi choosing her words as if each one mattered.
She took his little hand in hers.
"Helping someone is never wrong," she said softly. "But sometimes… the way we choose to help can cause trouble later. Your Papa… he is afraid you may learn to hide things from him."
Kiaan swallowed hard, brows furrowing. "But I didn't lie for myself. I lied so Khushi aunty doesn't lose her job."
Bhoomi smiled faintly. "And that shows what a good heart you have, my child. A heart exactly like your mother's."
She brushed her thumb across his knuckles. "But your Papa… he has only one worry in his heart—how to raise you right. Sometimes strictness becomes his way of protecting you."
Kiaan's lips trembled. "I just… didn't want him to think Khushi aunty is bad."
Bhoomi pulled him gently into her arms.
He melted into her hug, small fists clutching her saree.
"No one thinks she is bad," Bhoomi whispered into his hair. "Especially not me. Or Susheela. And not even your Papa… though he'll never admit it aloud."
Kiaan sniffed quietly, nodding into her shoulder.
Bhoomi rocked him slowly, like she had when he was younger.
"Tomorrow will be better," she murmured. "You'll see."
Kiaan closed his eyes, letting her warmth quiet the ache in his tiny chest.
Night Sea — Storm, Chaos, Sirens
Lightning tore across the sky, splintering the darkness into jagged cracks of white.
Waves rose like snarling beasts, crashing against the wooden ship. The air was thick with a haunting melody—siren voices twisting like poisoned silk.
Varun steadied himself on the tilted deck, his grip firm on the railing as supernatural beings around him fought desperately for survival.
The sirens shrieked, circling the ship with shimmering violet tails slicing through the water. Their eyes gleamed with hunger.
And then—
A violent crack.
The largest siren whipped her massive tail against the hull.
Wood shattered.
The entire ship lurched sideways, screams rising with the wind. Beings tumbled, crates rolled, and the deck split open as seawater flooded in.
Varun blinked against the harsh spray.
"Seriously?" he muttered, half exasperated, half bracing for impact.
The ship groaned, giving its last breath as it began to break apart beneath his feet.
Varun swung his magical backpack forward and unlatched a hidden compartment. Inside lay a single arrow—glowing faintly, swirling with embossed runes.
Vikram's voice echoed in his memory, steady and grave:
"This is your escape arrow. A Reeva hunter uses it only once. Use it wisely."
Varun exhaled, steadying his stance on the tilting deck.
The sirens surged upward, claws outstretched, shrieking in anticipation of blood.
"Not today," he whispered.
He nocked the arrow, aimed at the far-off mountains rising like dark giants beyond the storm—and released.
The arrow shot across the night sky, slicing clean through rain and wind.
In an instant, it erupted into a glowing chain-like rope, its head embedding deep into the rocky cliff with supernatural force.
The rope tightened, anchoring.
Varun didn't hesitate.
He wrapped his hands around the enchanted line as the ship behind him split completely in half.
With a single leap, he swung off the wrecking vessel, boots skimming over the raging water below.
Sparks of reeva magic flickered along the rope, guiding him through the violent air as sirens snapped and lunged beneath him, failing to reach his height.
The mountain loomed closer, the rope pulling him smoothly toward safety—if only temporary.
Behind him, the ship sank into the dark sea with a final roar.
Varun didn't look back.
---
To be continued…