The hours of darkness crept along in a slow, measured rhythm, not rushing, not pausing—just ticking softly like an ancient clock in a haunted castle.
Outside the snug little billet of Major Abhishek Rajput, the night was deep and drenched in blackness, as if the world had dipped itself in ink. No fingers could be seen before the eyes. The palace of the Dark King, hidden somewhere in the folds of time, seemed to be watching. Silent. Ominous. Guarding a thousand secrets.
Above this hush, the moon hung high in a deep velvet-blue sky, her silver glow surrounded by a playful chaos of twinkling stars. They chased her in the heavens, dancing around her like mischievous children. The stars would hold her hand tonight, whispering laughter into her loneliness.
And then...
A single star, small and sly, twinkled with light and winked at her casement.
Everything appeared magical.
Until it didn't.
---
The warmth shattered.
Out of the darkness, a long, looming shadow emerged.
It moved slowly, lazily... yet with cruel purpose. A man-like figure with facial hair grown wild, clutching a carver knife, stepping with eerie silence. Its eyes were like burning coal. The figure crept closer and closer to a slumbering girl, his hands rising—
And then, the silence was torn apart.
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"Mamaaaaaaa!!! Help me! Someone is trying to kill me...!!"
"AAAAAHHHHH!!!"
The scream pierced the walls like a blade.
Adyanshi screamed in terror.
Major Abhishek and Miss Abhishnigdha rushed into the room, breath ragged, hearts racing, only to find—
The room was untouched.
The bed was neat.
The toys were in place.
But Aadyanshi was gone.
"Adda!! Adda!! Where are you!?" Mrs. Abhi cried out in a trembling voice.
Then they spotted a small, trembling figure huddled under the bed, her face ghost-white, her breath cold as ice.
Her small hands gripped the floor, eyes wide, as if she'd returned from some other dimension. A scary red-faced hallucination, maybe a remnant of her own subconscious, had wrapped itself around her.
---
They took her out gently, held her tightly in their arms.
"She's shaking... it's just a nightmare," whispered Abhishnigdha, trying to sound calm.
"No," said Abhishek, dark eyes lingering. "This is something more."
---
Morning.
Despite the cold, the house was filled with heat of urgency. They were scheduled to fly back to Bhubaneswar.
But Aadyanshi was still unconscious—pale, unresponsive, and visibly drained.
"She's burning up," murmured Abhishnigdha. "We need to take her to the hospital. Now."
Without wasting another moment, she hurried to dress her, brushing her tangled hair and holding back tears as she wrapped her in a blanket.
In the meantime, Major Abhishek had finished packing. His military discipline never faltered—not even in panic.
---
At the hospital, Doctor Mishra examined the child thoroughly. He was now posted in Srinagar, but had once operated on Mr. Anshuman Singh Rajput himself. He had known this family for years.
Mrs. Abhishnigdha could no longer wait.
"Doctor, please... tell us what's wrong with her?"
Doctor Mishra looked serious but not panicked.
---
"There is no illness here—at least, not one that medicine can explain," he began.
"She's not sick. She's gifted."
"Gifted?" Mr. and Mrs. Abhi asked in unison.
---
Doctor Mishra sat down and looked at the sleeping child.
"She's inherited a rare condition from her mother. It's called... Precognition."
*(Latin: prae- — before, cognitio — acquiring knowledge.)
"It's an ability to see glimpses of future events—usually through dreams."
He paused.
"Her mother, Mrs. Triveni Rajput, had it too. And she was forced to understand it far too early... She was used. Manipulated. The gift consumed her."
---
Mrs. Abhishnigdha's voice trembled.
"Is it... dangerous?"
Doctor Mishra nodded slowly.
"Not in itself. But for a child—yes. Emotionally, mentally, even spiritually. That's why I'm making a request. No matter what happens—do not tell her yet. Let her grow up like a normal child. Let her forget the visions. She will understand her power when she is strong enough to carry it."
He sighed deeply.
"It is... a drug in her DNA. You cannot take it out. But you can protect her from its weight. At least for now."
---
"We promise," said Major Abhishek.
"We'll protect her. We won't let history repeat itself."
Doctor Mishra smiled faintly.
"Good. Go. The skies are waiting for her. And so is her destiny."
---
Farewells and Promises
Before leaving Srinagar, little Aadyanshi—now a bit recovered—made one last visit.
With her two best friends Muskan and Shakura, they ran laughing through the cherry blossom field where they'd played since toddlerhood.
There stood their memory tree—tall, old, magical.
Together, the three friends carved their names into its bark with a twig and left behind a small quote they had sworn by since nursery:
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"Never hate anyone...
And always keep a smile on your face."
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They promised to reunite when they became successful. And even if the world changed, their bond never would.
They also said goodbye to their favorite street-seller, Haider Uncle, the jolly balloon man who sold them monkey balloons every Sunday. Aadyanshi gave him three plastic rings for memory.
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The Flight Home
At last, they stood at Srinagar Airport. The security check was done. The boarding gate approached.
As the plane rolled across the tarmac and took off, Mrs. Abhishnigdha leaned back, silent.
Her thoughts echoed with the voice of the doctor.
"She must never know… not yet."
Major Abhishek sat beside her, one hand protectively over Adda's sleeping figure.
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But a quiet storm swirled within them both:
Would Adda accept Bhubaneswar as home?
Would she remember them as guardians—or just as caretakers?
Would she ask for her real parents?
And when the time came... would they have the strength to tell her the truth?
The plane lifted above the clouds. Srinagar faded away, but not the memories.
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Next stop: Bhubaneswar.
Next chapter: Revelation, Reunion, and the Seeds of Destiny.
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