Aryan thought about it for a moment. "Riding my bike, heading to the office with dreams in my head... then nothing. Next moment i was running with a sword in my hand." He shuddered slightly.
"What about you?"
Varun's expression shifted, and for just a moment, his usual cheerful demeanor flickered. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that he was clearly trying to hide behind forced lightness.
"Last thing I remember, I was in bed," he said, though something in his tone suggested there was more to it than that. "And then... blank. Next thing I knew, I too was running through the jungle. Just running, like something was chasing me or not..., but I couldn't remember what." He paused, staring into the flames.
"Weird thing is, I wasn't scared while I was running. I was... excited? Like I was running toward something good instead of away from something bad."
The sadness in his voice was subtle but unmistakable, seeping through despite his attempts to keep things light. Aryan sensed there was something Varun wasn't telling him—something about that moment of being in bed, something about the blankness that followed. But he recognized the look of someone trying to protect themselves from a painful memory, and he didn't push.
"Running toward something," Aryan repeated thoughtfully. "Maybe that is what brought you to me. Maybe that is why you were in the right place at the right time."
Varun looked up, and his genuine smile returned, though it was tinged with something more complex now. "Maybe," he said. "Or maybe we're both just really lucky that whoever or whatever is pulling the strings around here decided we'd be more useful alive than dead."
The words hung in the air between them, carrying implications that neither of them was quite ready to explore. But for now, in the warmth of the fire and the unexpected comfort of honest conversation, it was enough to simply acknowledge that they were both here, both alive, and both trying to make sense of a world that seemed determined to remain mysterious.
Varun yawned and stretched his arms above his head, settling back against a fallen log.
"You know what? I think we're both overthinking this whole mess. Look at us—we're exhausted. Technically that's wrong to say but hey, who cares. And on top of that we're confused, sitting here trying to make sense of memories that feel like scattered puzzle pieces." He gestured lazily at the crackling fire between them.
"My advice? Stop torturing yourself for tonight. Get some rest. Maybe when the sun comes up, this place won't seem so mysterious as it is right now."
Aryan felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. The warmth from the fire, combined with Varun's matter-of-fact tone, was oddly comforting. "You are probably right," he admitted, allowing himself to relax against the tree trunk.
"I guess there is not much we can do in the dark anyway."
"Exactly! See? I mean, You're already thinking clearer." Varun grinned and started arranging some leaves and soft grass into a makeshift pillow. "Tomorrow's problems can wait for tomorrow."
As the immediate concerns began to fade, Aryan's mind inevitably wandered to the people he'd left behind.
His family.
All he wanted right now is a warm hug from his mother. Sweet and innocent smile from his little sister. That's all he needed to make all his worries fade.
By now his family was probably searching for him everywhere.
The thought made his chest tighten with homesickness. But then, as he stared up at the canopy of unfamiliar trees, another thought crept in—one that made his blood run cold.
What if they couldn't find him because he wasn't there to be found?
What if the strangeness of this place meant something far more disturbing than he'd allowed himself to consider?
What if they weren't on Earth anymore?
The possibility hit him like a cold blow on his face. The landscape, the extinct herbs, the supernatural voices—what if this wasn't just some remote location, but somewhere else entirely? Somewhere impossibly far from home, from his family, from everything he'd ever known?
But before he could spiral deeper into that terrifying thought, his survival instincts suddenly kicked in. His eyes, which had been growing heavy with imaginary exhaustion, snapped wide open. The dancing flames of their fire seemed to grow brighter, more obvious, more dangerous.
"Oh shit," he whispered, sitting up straight. "Varun, the fire—how long has it been burning?"
Varun looked up from his improvised bedding, completely oblivious to the panic in Aryan's voice. "The fire? Oh, maybe an hour, maybe more? Why?" He smiled proudly.
"You know, It was actually pretty tricky to get started. First I had to find the right kind of rocks—you need ones with enough iron content to actually create sparks. Then I had to gather all this dry moss and shredded bark for tinder, and the technique is really important. You have to strike at just the right angle, and—"
"Varun, stop!" Aryan cut him off, his voice sharp with urgency. "We need to put this out. Now."
The cheerful expression on Varun's face shifted to confusion. "Put it out? But why? Are you feeling sick? Sometimes those medicinal herbs can have weird side effects, especially if you're not used to them. Are you nauseous? Dizzy? Because I might have used too strong a concentration when I treated your shoulder—"
Aryan was already moving, scooping up handfuls of dirt and throwing them onto the flames. The fire hissed and sputtered in protest, sending up clouds of acrid smoke.
"Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing?" Varun jumped to his feet, genuine anger flashing across his face. "Do you have any idea how much work that was? I spent forever collecting the right materials, getting the stones positioned just right, nursing those first tiny flames until they caught properly. You can't just—"
"We are broadcasting our location to anyone within miles!" Aryan snapped, continuing to smother the fire with dirt and stones. "In the dark, a fire like this is visible from incredible distances. If there is anyone out there hunting people like us, we might as well have sent up a flare!"
Varun's protests died in his throat as the implications sank in. The easy confidence that had characterized him all evening began to crack, replaced by the first hints of genuine concern.
"But... I mean, we need the warmth," he said weakly, watching the last of the flames disappear under Aryan's determined efforts.
"And the light. How are we supposed to stay safe in complete darkness?"
Aryan stamped out the final glowing embers with his foot, plunging them into the thick blackness of the jungle night. "We will have to figure that out as we go. Right now, staying safe is more important than staying comfortable."
The silence that followed was absolute—no crackling fire, no comforting orange glow, just the oppressive darkness and the distant sounds of the jungle around them. Varun opened his mouth to argue further, but something in the darkness made him pause.
A soft whistling sound, barely audible over the normal night sounds. Then a sharp thunk as something embedded itself in the tree trunk just inches from Aryan's head.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The sound—that soft whistling followed by the solid thunk—seemed to hang in the air like an impossible thing, something that couldn't be real.
Then Varun's voice, barely a whisper: "Was that...?"
"Arrow," Aryan breathed, his fingers reaching up to touch the wooden shaft that had buried itself in the bark mere inches from where his head had been moments before. The wood was still vibrating slightly from the impact.
All of Varun's earlier anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by a terror so pure it left him frozen. "Oh. So you meant by this?"
"Are you done done wondering?" Aryan hissed, "Get down!" grabbing Varun's arm and yanking him behind the fallen log they'd been using as a backrest. They both hit the ground hard, pressing themselves against the rough bark as their hearts hammered in their chests.
The darkness around them suddenly felt alive with menace. Every shadow could hide a threat, every rustle of leaves could signal approaching danger. Aryan strained his eyes, trying to penetrate the blackness beyond their former campsite, looking for any sign of movement.
There was a darker shape against the darkness, maybe thirty yards away. Human-shaped but motionless, like a statue carved from shadow.
Aryan's throat went dry. Should he call out? The stranger might be friendly, might be someone who know something that they don't. But calling out would give away their exact position, confirm that they were here, crouched behind this log like sitting ducks.
His mind raced through the possibilities. If this person had fell to the whispers just like Ranjir, staying silent might give them a chance to slip away unnoticed. But if they were already spotted and given how exposed they'd been by the fire, Then silence might be seen as suspicious, even threatening.
The whispers. They affected people differently, didn't they? Some, like him and Varun, rejected the calls to kill, to hunt, to survive at any cost. Others, like Ranjir, embraced them completely. And this figure standing motionless in the darkness—which category did they fall into?