The night sky stretched endlessly above, an inky canvas dotted with a million shimmering stars, each one a tiny diamond suspended in the vastness of space. Some flickered like restless fireflies, while others burned with a steady, resolute glow. The moon, a radiant pearl, bathed the world in a soft, ethereal light, transforming the fields below into a silvery sea that undulated in the gentle night breeze. The stars whispered their ancient secrets, a cosmic symphony of light and silence that spoke directly to the soul, if one knew how to listen. The air was charged with a strange energy, as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for something monumental to unfold.
Smitha hurried down the dimly lit hospital corridor, her heart racing. She barely noticed the world outside the windows—trees swaying gently, the fields beyond sleeping under the moonlight. All her attention was fixed on the news she had just received. Ronith, who had been in a coma for months, had moved his hand. It was a tiny gesture, but it meant everything. It was hope.
The emergency room was eerily quiet at this late hour. Only a few nurses and orderlies moved about, their footsteps muffled on the polished floors. Smitha's eyes darted around until they landed on an older nurse, her gray hair tied into a neat bun, diligently filling out forms behind the counter.
"Sister," Smitha called, her voice shaky with urgency. The nurse looked up, startled by the sudden interruption. "Can you check on the patient in ward number ten? Ronith... he moved his hand. He's been in a coma for so long, but just now, he moved. Please, come quickly."
The nurse's eyes widened in surprise. She immediately stood up, abandoning her paperwork, and reached for the phone. "I'll call the doctor right away."
Smitha stood there, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the nurse made the call. The few moments of waiting felt like hours. She could feel the pulse of the hospital around her—an almost tangible hum of life and death, of waiting and healing. Finally, the doors burst open, and the doctor, a middle-aged man with graying hair and sharp eyes, rushed into the room, his face set in a mixture of disbelief and determination.
"Take me to him," the doctor said, his voice low but firm. Smitha led him down the corridor to ward ten, her footsteps quick, almost a run, as the weight of months of helplessness now hung on a single fragile hope.
When they reached Ronith's bedside, Smitha froze. There he was—his body frail, his face pale—but his eyes were open. They were darting around the room, his expression one of confusion and wonder, as though he had woken up in a world completely unfamiliar to him. His hands twitched slightly, as if testing their movement for the first time in an eternity.
The doctor stepped forward, leaning over the bed to check Ronith's vitals. His brow furrowed as he glanced between the monitors and the patient. Ronith blinked, slowly turning his head toward Smitha and the doctor, his gaze filled with an eerie mix of recognition and uncertainty. It was clear that he was conscious, but the question of how much he remembered, or understood, was still unanswered.
"This is remarkable," the doctor muttered, shaking his head slightly. "He's woken up from a coma, but..." He trailed off, as if considering the next steps carefully. "We'll need to conduct several tests to see the extent of his cognitive and physical recovery. It's possible he may have some memory loss, given how long he's been in this state. But physically, he seems responsive." He checked Ronith's pulse again, then stood up straighter. "Right now, he needs rest. We'll monitor him overnight, and if everything looks stable, we'll begin memory assessments in the morning."
Smitha stood beside the bed, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Ronith. She had known this man before the accident—strong, intelligent, vibrant. Now, he seemed like a shadow of his former self, lost in the haze of his own mind. It was painful to see him like this, fragile and disoriented. But there was hope. He was awake. He was alive.
The doctor gave a few more instructions to the nurse, then left the room quietly. Smitha lingered at the bedside, watching as Ronith's eyelids fluttered, and then closed again, his breathing deepening into a light, peaceful sleep. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Even in his weakened state, there was something about his presence that grounded her. Perhaps it was the sheer relief of seeing him awake, or perhaps it was something more—a connection she hadn't fully understood before.
Smitha swallowed hard, her eyes filling with emotion she hadn't allowed herself to feel until now. She thought, "I just... I want him to be okay. I want him to remember who he is, who we are." As the night darken Smitha was unaware that she has to face many problems hereafter. Ronith's case was just a warning sign from the Black dragon group to be safe and leave Pune.
As the night deepened, Smitha remained unaware of the challenges that awaited her. Ronith's case had only been a warning from the Black Dragon group, signaling that she should leave while she could. But the true threat was far more dangerous. Aakash, the ruthless leader of the Black Dragon group, had discovered a secret that could change everything—Smitha was the daughter of a former member of the group, a man who had once pledged loyalty to Pratap, the noble king. Her father had left the group to honor a sacred promise made to Pratap, but Aakash had other plans.
Aakash wanted Smitha's blood, for she carried the rare O-negative blood type inherited from her father, a type said to possess special properties within the Black Dragon's dark rituals. If Aakash could harness her blood, he believed he would gain unimaginable power. But what Aakash didn't anticipate was Pratap's lingering presence. Though long deceased, Pratap's spirit had not forsaken the world. His bond with Smitha's father allowed him to sense the danger she was in, and before Aakash's forces could harm her, Pratap's soul intervened.
In a desperate act, Pratap formed a protective shield around Smitha, preventing any dark energy from entering her body. Yet this act of protection came at a cost—Pratap's spiritual strength weakened. He would need time to recover, and though Smitha had no idea of the battles being waged over her, Pratap remained vigilant. He knew that Rudra, his chosen protector, would soon come, and until then, Pratap would guard her from afar. But time was running out. The souls of the dead, especially those who have not chosen a vessel, are fragile in the mortal realm. Pratap had resisted merging with a body for as long as possible, but now it seemed inevitable. If he were to continue protecting Smitha and aiding Rudra, he would have to make the decision soon.
While discussing the events that had unfolded with both their fathers, Tracy and Rudra were in disbelief. It all seemed like a surreal bedtime story or a romantic novel they had stumbled upon. Rudra then pulled out his grandfather's diary, handing it to Arun as proof of the truth behind their stories. As Arun read the diary, shock spread across his face—everything Rudra had said was true.
Just then, Tracy's phone rang. It was Robert, calling from Goa Airport. She quickly asked Rudra to accompany her. "Come with me," she said, her voice soft yet determined. As their eyes met, Rudra felt a warmth between them, a quiet connection that had grown stronger through their journey. He nodded, and they left together.
Prakash and Stella were also returning to India today, though Rudra had almost forgotten. He quickly arranged for one of his drivers to pick them up from Mumbai Airport, unable to go himself.
As Tracy and Rudra headed to the airport, their fingers brushed, and for a brief moment, they exchanged a smile. The weight of their mission hung over them, but love simmered just beneath the surface. Would they find the cave where the Saint of Truth and Love was imprisoned? Will Tracy and Rudra achieve success? Will they find the whereabouts of the cave were the saint of truth and love is imprisoned? Will Smitha and Robert meet? Wait for next updates and if you do not understand the story kindly message me in the message center.