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- Hidden Flame Alpine Base, Switzerland -
- May 16, 1939 | Late Night -
The mountains swallowed them whole as Karna and Neel crossed back over the snowline before dawn broke. The old forests held their secrets tight — no birds yet, just the crunch of boots and the soft hush of breath in the cold. By the time they reached the Hidden Flame's Alpine base, dawn had only brushed the peaks in silver.
Hidden behind jagged slopes and old pine, the base looked like nothing from the outside — a shepherd's cabin, half-buried in snow. Inside, it stretched deep into the mountain's bones, warm with soft lamps and the quiet hum of old runes.
Karna felt the weight of the night in his shoulders. He'd slipped past hunters, watchers, and an old city's teeth — but he hadn't cracked it. Not yet. And that failure stung, hidden under his calm breath.
Neel brushed snow from his coat as they stepped inside. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe a joke to break the hush — but stopped when he saw who waited by the old fireplace.
Aryan was there. Not in royal robes or some grand armor — just simple travel clothes, boots damp with snowmelt, hair loose around his shoulders. Shakti sat near him, half-curled on a wool blanket, watching the flames dance like they whispered secrets only she could hear. The sight of them together — quiet, warm, so out of place in these cold stone halls — made Karna blink once, thrown off his own tired thoughts.
Aryan looked up, grin flickering to life the moment their eyes met. "There you are," he said, voice easy. "Running circles around old ruins again?"
Karna dropped his pack, breath huffing out like he'd carried more than snow back down the mountain. "I could ask you the same thing, Samrat," he shot back, his grin quick but lopsided. "How come you and Shakti are here, in my Alps, just waiting by my fire like it's a picnic?"
Neel stepped back a bit, pretending to busy himself with his gear — half-smiling, half glad to let the friends spar with words.
Shakti laughed softly, her eyes warm as she leaned into Aryan's shoulder. "We were on a date," she said, simple as that. "Europe in spring, snow and old chocolate shops. Then someone —" she nudged Aryan gently "— felt a certain hidden base humming under the mountain and decided to drop by. Said he wanted to see if you and Rudra were keeping your toys tidy."
Karna snorted, half caught between a bow and a sigh. "A date, huh? So the Samrat and the future Samrajni come visit my dusty caves for romance. Should've warned us — I'd have laid out candles."
Aryan raised a brow, teasing but soft. "You look guilty for a man with nothing to hide."
And just like that, Karna's grin slipped. The tired lines around his eyes deepened as he dropped into a chair near the fire. Neel perched beside him, quiet, waiting.
Karna rubbed his palms together, heat seeping back into his bones as he spoke. "I almost had them, Aryan. The ones who hit Hydra — they slipped across borders, ghosts with boots. They carried an old crate — turns out it wasn't Hydra's cargo that mattered, just a single book."
Aryan's smile faded, replaced by a calm that settled like an extra layer of stone in his posture. He didn't interrupt.
Karna went on, voice steady but tight. "They call themselves the Brotherhood. Follow some old master — Sir Isaac Newton. Alive. Leading them like some prophet of secrets. They took the book and vanished under Rome's belly — an entrance guarded by more eyes than I counted. I tried to get in again after we slipped that old watcher — but they were ready. Couldn't risk exposing Neel or myself. So…" He spread his hands, helpless but certain. "I came back. We'll go again, but not blind."
Silence filled the room for a moment — save for the soft hiss of the fire. Shakti watched Aryan's face, curious at the flicker behind his eyes. Rudra, standing near the stone archway — half shadow, half sentinel — shifted but stayed quiet too.
Aryan let the hush linger before leaning back, a soft hum under his breath. In truth, part of him drifted far — not here in these old stones and firelight, but somewhere else. Another world, another life. Late nights with crumpled comics, cheap pizza, a laptop screen glowing with weird videos about Marvel lore. Though unfortunately he lacked detailed knowledge about deeper storylines like this one, as he was mostly a casual fan of the Marvel universe. One thing he knew, Isaac Newton — was a villain here. The Brotherhood of the Shield — old spies before SHIELD was SHIELD. Fragments of trivia, not gospel.
He didn't show any of that now. No one here knew that in his bones, these legends were once just someone's ink and dreams. And now they breathed. Now they hunted Hydra convoys and whispered about Morgan Le Fey in cold barns under the moon.
Vaani? He asked in the quiet corners of his mind.
"Yes, Aryan?" The Meta-System's voice came gentle, near motherly.
Anything I missed about this Newton? The Brotherhood?
Vaani's whisper slid through him like water through old stone. "They match the knowledge from your other world's archives — a hidden order watching over Earth's timeline. Newton split them once, wielded forbidden knowledge. If he stirs now, caution is wise. Morgan Le Fey, too — powerful sorceress, fey-blooded, bound to Arthurian myth. Dangerous, unpredictable.
Aryan nodded, half to himself, half to Vaani's echo. Then he looked at Karna — his best friend, his sword in the dark.
"Good work," Aryan said softly. "You did right. You and Rudra both — you kept our shadows safe. That's what matters."
Karna shifted, sheepish under the praise. "Couldn't crack the old stones, though."
"You will," Aryan said, certainty clear. "But we do it right. From now on — no lone tails. The Brotherhood knows the world's secrets like veins under skin. If Newton's moving now and dealing with witches, we double our eyes. Morgan Le Fey's name alone makes this messy."
He let the fire pop once before adding, quieter, "The Shield is old — older than any Hydra or Empire. If they're stirring, they're afraid. And if they're afraid… we watch them harder."
Rudra stepped forward at last, hands folded behind his back. "What's your command, Samrat?"
Aryan's eyes, dark and alive with old storms and new futures, lifted to meet his.
"Stay close," he said. "Map every step they take under Rome. If they reach for Bharat — if they reach for the Darkhold or Morgan — I want to know before they breathe on our borders."
He leaned back, letting a tired grin pull at his mouth. "And next time I drop by unannounced, Karna… maybe lay out some candles. Shakti likes them."
Shakti snorted, elbowing him softly, but Karna just laughed — an awkward, warm sound that filled the mountain base with the human hush of old friends finding their footing again.
Outside, the Alpine wind carried secrets down the slopes — all the way to Rome's broken stones, where watchers waited and monsters dreamed. And in the Hidden Flame's heart, a promise smoldered quietly:
No hunter would go unseen.
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