📅 October 12 – Sunday, Nandanpur Hills
The Sunday Escape
After weeks of classes, floods, and restless nights, the idea of a picnic sounded like freedom. By midmorning, three scooters sped past the fields — laughter echoing as Ishanvi, Abhay, Vaidehi, Aariv, Raghav, Vrinda, Vivaan, and Simran headed toward the Nandanpur Hills, just five kilometers from their village.
The air smelled of rain-soaked grass. Birds returned to the trees. For once, everything felt normal.
"Finally! A day without school or storms," Simran cheered, spreading a mat on the slope. "Don't say that too loudly," Vaidehi teased. "You'll jinx it."
The others unpacked snacks, played music from Aariv's phone, and argued over whose cooking was worse — Raghav's cold parathas or Vivaan's overstuffed sandwiches.
Even Abhay and Ishanvi smiled, though both had sensed something strange that morning — a faint vibration in the air, like the hum of a song they couldn't place.
The Vanishing
Around noon, mist began to roll down from the higher ridge. "I'll get some flowers from there!" Ishanvi called, climbing a little path away from the group.
"Wait—don't go far!" Raghav shouted, but her voice was already fading behind the trees.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. When the mist thickened and her laughter stopped echoing, everyone realized — she wasn't coming back.
Panic rippled through the group. "She might've taken the wrong trail," Vaidehi said quickly. "Let's split and search — same route back in twenty minutes!"
They nodded and scattered — pairs heading in different directions through the misty woods.
Abhay's Path
Abhay took the narrow path that led toward the sound of running water. His steps quickened when he spotted a small stream trickling from the hillside — one that shimmered unnaturally, glowing faintly blue under the sunlight.
He knelt, touched it — and the water rippled in response, forming a perfect circle around his hand. Then, like a heartbeat, it pulsed.
His vision blurred — and suddenly, he was somewhere else. The air smelled of rain. The sound of thunder echoed from within the earth, not the sky.
And in front of him stood a shape — fluid, tall, made entirely of silver-blue water. Its voice was both inside and around him:
"Child of the river, your bond awakens. But balance sleeps in flame."
Before he could speak, the vision shattered — the ground under him trembled, and he fell to his knees beside the stream, gasping for air.
Ishanvi's Path
Meanwhile, deep inside the forest, Ishanvi stood at the edge of a small clearing, surrounded by old stones marked with strange carvings. The mist here was warmer — glowing faintly orange.
A spark leaped from her fingers when she touched one of the stones, igniting a small circle of light around her feet. She stumbled back, eyes wide. The carvings flared, and faint whispers filled the air:
"Daughter of flame, your heart remembers what time forgot."
The fire didn't burn her. It wrapped around her instead — gentle, alive.
Then, just as suddenly, it faded, leaving behind only silence… and a faint scorch mark shaped like a spiral on the ground.
The Reunion
Abhay and the others finally found her an hour later, standing near the clearing, dazed but unharmed. "Where were you?" Vaidehi demanded, voice breaking with relief. "I don't know," Ishanvi whispered. "It was… strange. Like I wasn't alone."
Abhay met her eyes across the mist — and though neither said a word, both knew something had changed.
The hills had called them separately. And now, the river and the flame were no longer sleeping.
As they rode home, the evening sun dipped behind the trees, painting the sky gold. Simran, sitting behind Vaidehi, murmured quietly, "Whatever happened there today… the hills know something we don't."
And somewhere, beneath the ground they'd just left, two faint lights pulsed in sync — one red, one blue — spreading deeper into the earth.