Aditi was at her familiar desk, lost in thought as she scribbled away, when Arjun burst in, urgency in his voice. "Aditi, show me your hand!" Startled, she set her pen aside and revealed the peculiar mark on her palm. "What's going on? Do you know anything about this unusual mark?"
His gaze shifted from the mark to her eyes, which held a deep sadness, reminiscent of a flower with drooping petals. "It's a mark from a distant land," he replied softly.
"Distant land? Suryagarh?" she questioned, disbelief etched on her face.
"How did you know?" he asked, surprised.
"This has to be a joke, right? How can this be real? Suryagarh is just a figment of imagination. I can't comprehend what this mark signifies!"
"Some truths are difficult to accept, yet they exist," he said gently.
"Are you suggesting that Suryagarh is indeed real? Not just a piece from my writing?"
"What if I revealed to you that you have the extraordinary power to turn your dreams and spoken words into reality?"
"Then, I would capture every cherished moment we've shared, and they would all come to life."
He gazed into her eyes, longing to grasp her hand forever. Though he had arrived in this world driven by vengeance, he found himself captivated by her. Her compassion touched his heart. And now... the Zenora seeks her.
""Arjun, would you mind doing me a small favor?" Aditi asked, her voice tinged with hope.
"What kind of favor do you have in mind?" he replied, curious.
"I really want to see everyone—Shika Di, Yash, and Aishwarya. Could we possibly arrange a little gathering?" Aditi's eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"Yes. We can host a party tonight. I'll make sure to contact everyone," Arjun assured her with enthusiasm. Aditi's smile was faint, but Arjun could sense an underlying sadness in her expression. It was as if a shadow loomed over her joy. An unsettling feeling crept into Arjun's mind, a premonition that something significant was on the verge of happening that evening.
Later that afternoon:
The lights glittered like stars strung across the ceiling of the lavish terrace. Music pulsed through the air, laughter spilled like wine, and glasses clinked to the rhythm of joy. The scent of fresh roses and spiced appetizers danced with the summer night breeze.
Aishwarya teased Yash about his new haircut, Shikha was narrating a hilarious story from work, and Arjun couldn't take his eyes off Aditi—her smile, her laughter, the way she tilted her head when amused.
Then, mid-laughter, Aditi's glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the marble floor.
She swayed. Her eyes widened. A whisper of a gasp escaped her lips.
"Aditi?" Arjun stepped forward.
She collapsed—hard.
Everyone froze.
"Aditi!" Arjun dropped to his knees, shaking her gently. "Aditi, wake up!"
Shikha screamed. Yash tried calling for help, while Aishwarya pushed through the stunned crowd gathering around.
Arjun cradled Aditi in his arms. Her skin was cold. Her chest unmoving.
"No... no, no, no!" His voice cracked. "You can't do this. Not now. Not like this."
He looked up at the sky, wild-eyed. "ZENORA!" he cried—a name only he knew, whispered in ancient tales, a guardian of balance, of death and life. "Zenora, please. Please, I beg you—don't take her. Not her."
Wind rushed through the terrace as if the world had taken a sudden breath. Candles flickered out. The air turned heavy, still.
A glowing ripple shimmered in the sky—an ethereal figure cloaked in moonlight stepped forth. The others couldn't see her, but Arjun could. He always could.
"You call upon me, bearer of the bond," Zenora's voice was like echoing silver. "But the thread has snapped."
"Take mine," Arjun whispered, tears streaming. "Take my life. Give her back. Please."
Zenora moved closer, kneeling opposite him. She gazed at Aditi, then at Arjun. "Love like yours... bends fate. But it does not break death's law without cost."
"I'll pay it," Arjun said, not hesitating. "Whatever it takes."
She tilted her head. "Then so be it."
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Aditi POV:
Where am I?
My eyes blink open to a sky that isn't mine. It's too blue—deep, ancient, like it remembers things the world has forgotten. The sun hangs heavy, golden and proud, pouring light over sandstone walls that stretch endlessly above me.
I sit up slowly, heart hammering, breath shallow.
What… is this place?
There's silence, but not the empty kind. The kind that listens. Wind brushes over my skin, dry and warm, carrying whispers I can't quite hear.
Then I see it.
The flag.
It flutters high above, against the cobalt sky—scarlet and gold, the fabric torn at the edges but standing tall, defiant. And on it, a symbol I've never seen but feel like I've known all my life: a rising sun behind a lion, encircled in flame.
No… it can't be.
I rise to my feet, sandals scraping against smooth stone. My legs tremble—not from fear, but disbelief. The corridor I'm in is open-air, lined with intricate carvings and pillars kissed by time. I can smell sandalwood, ash, and something metallic.
And then the word slips from my lips before I even realize I've spoken it:
"SuryaGarh."
It hangs in the air like a spell.
Am I really here?
I move forward, hands brushing against the ancient walls. There are markings—warriors in motion, celestial beings, stories etched in stone. Every corner hums with power, with memory. It feels like the kind of place that demands your truth… or devours you for lying.
How did I get here?
And more importantly…
Why me?
As I step into a wide courtyard, bathed in golden light and silence, I hear the faintest sound—footsteps. Steady. Confident.
Someone is coming.
And just like that, the ground beneath me feels sacred. The air, electric.
I'm not just anywhere.
I'm in SuryaGarh.
And nothing… nothing will ever be the same again.
The wind shifts.
It carries something now—a presence. Heavy, knowing. I feel it before I hear her. A voice like velvet and thunder, as though the desert itself had spoken.
"You are here for a reason, Aditi."
I freeze.
The voice isn't loud, but it echoes through the air around me, wrapping itself around the stone walls like smoke. I turn, but there's no one there—only shadows shifting between pillars and light flickering off gold-tipped carvings.
Then, from the shadows, she steps forward.
Tall. Cloaked in silks that shimmer like the surface of still water under moonlight. Her eyes are ancient—violet and ageless—and they hold the weight of galaxies. She walks like someone who doesn't obey time.
Zenora.
I know her name without needing to be told.
She stops a few paces away from me, her gaze never leaving mine.
"Your life," she says, "has been extended for a reason."
I swallow, unsure if I should speak, move, or simply fall to my knees.
Zenora's voice softens, but the gravity in it grows.
"The reason… is this: You must slay an immortal being. One that walks through SuryaGarh cloaked in shadow and flame. A creature that was once a man, twisted by hunger for power. He brings ruin. He brings madness."
My chest tightens.
"You want me to kill him?" I manage, barely above a whisper. "But I'm no warrior."
Zenora smiles—sadly, knowingly.
"You are not. Not yet. But neither were the greatest warriors when destiny first whispered their name."
The wind howls through the courtyard now, as if the fortress itself had heard the prophecy.
"Why me?" I ask.
Zenora's expression doesn't change. But her voice does—lower now, more intimate.
"Because he cannot be slain by a blade forged in this world. Only by one reborn."
She steps closer, raising a hand—not to strike, not to bless, but to reveal.
"You died once, Aditi. And now… you live again. Not by accident. By purpose."
My heartbeat is deafening in my ears.
Behind Zenora, the sun seems to burn brighter, the flag of SuryaGarh snapping in the wind like a warning.
"The immortal knows you're here," she says. "And he will come for you."
I take a breath, shaky but alive.
Then I look her in the eye and whisper, "Let him come."
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