The jungle path narrowed until it ended at a sagging wooden gate. Beyond lay a village of shadows. No dogs barked. No smoke drifted from the crooked chimneys. The evening breeze that had followed them from the forest seemed to halt at the threshold, as if unwilling to enter.
Rajyugas stepped forward first. His long coat stirred faintly though the air felt still. He said nothing—only glanced once over his shoulder to be sure the three children kept close—and walked straight through the gate.
Ansh trailed behind, eyes wide. "It's like… the world forgot this place."
Ashwini pressed a finger to her lips. "Quiet," she whispered.
Vijay's boots scuffed the dry ground. The sound seemed too loud, and he winced. "Why's it so empty? It's creepy."
Rajyugas did not answer. He led them through the narrow lanes until they reached a weather-worn temple of pale stone. The door stood open, its hinges groaning softly as if they hadn't moved in years.
"This will do for tonight," he said at last. His deep voice broke the silence like a pebble tossed into a still pond. "Stay inside."
Before any of them could ask a question, he crossed the threshold, disappeared into the inner chamber, and closed a heavy wooden screen behind him.
Ansh stared after him. "That's it? No explanation? No bedtime story? Just—stay inside?"
Daav, perched on his shoulder, gave a faint chirp that sounded almost like a laugh.
Ashwini tugged Ansh's sleeve. "Don't start. He clearly wants to rest."
"Or plot something mysterious," Ansh muttered, eyes narrowing.
They sat on the temple floor near a small, cracked oil lamp whose flame trembled but never went out. The walls were etched with faded murals of forgotten heroes. Outside, the village lay under the dim light of a half-moon.
Minutes dragged like hours. No crickets sang. No night birds called.
"This is worse than training," Vijay whispered. "At least training makes noise."
Ansh balanced a pebble on Daav's head. The little firebird blinked, unimpressed. "Maybe they're all hiding from a giant monster. Or ghosts."
"Don't," Ashwini warned, but she kept glancing toward the door.
The silence pressed closer, thick and heavy. Even Daav, usually restless, tucked his wings and crouched low against Ansh's neck.
Ansh sprang up suddenly. "Okay, I can't take it. We have to see what's out there."
"No," Ashwini said instantly.
"Yes," Ansh countered with equal speed. "A whole village doesn't just vanish. We need clues. Adventure! Heroic discovery!"
Vijay rubbed his face. "You just want trouble."
"Exactly," Ansh said, grinning. "Who's coming?"
Daav hopped onto his shoulder, feathers sparking faintly.
"See? Daav's with me."
"That's because he has no sense," Vijay muttered. But when Ansh tip-toed toward the door, both Ashwini and Vijay found themselves following, hearts pounding despite their protests.
Moonlight bathed the village in silver. Their footsteps echoed against walls of dark timber and clay. Empty windows gaped like blank eyes.
Ansh crouched near a well at the center of the square. The rope swayed slightly though no wind touched it. "Weird," he whispered, giving it a quick tug. It creaked but held.
Ashwini peered into an abandoned house. Clay bowls sat neatly on a table as if a meal had been interrupted. A child's sandal lay in the doorway. "It's like they just… disappeared mid-day."
"Maybe they turned invisible," Ansh said. "Or—"
"Stop," Vijay cut in, his voice low. "Not funny."
Daav fluttered from roof to roof, a tiny flicker of orange against the gray. He gave a sharp, questioning chirp and darted down a narrow side lane.
"Daav found something!" Ansh whispered, excitement breaking through the tension. He ran after the bird.
"Ansh, wait!" Ashwini hissed, but followed. Vijay groaned and trailed behind.
The lane ended at a small wooden shrine half-hidden by creeping vines. Its door stood slightly ajar. Moonlight caught the carvings of twisting leaves across its surface.
Daav perched on the roof beam, feathers glowing dimly.
Ansh pushed the door open before anyone could stop him. It moved without a sound.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of incense long burned away. A single candle burned in the center, its flame steady despite the stillness. No smoke, no flicker.
Ashwini's breath caught. "How can it stay lit? There's no draft, no one to tend it…"
Vijay shivered. "It's like the whole village is holding its breath."
Daav let out a low trill that echoed off the small chamber's walls, the sound strange and mournful.
For once, Ansh didn't joke. He stared at the unwavering flame. "Let's… go back."
No one argued.
The walk back felt longer. Every creak of old wood, every crunch of gravel underfoot made them flinch. Ansh kept glancing over his shoulder, certain shadows shifted just beyond sight.
At last they reached the temple. Its doorway loomed like a safe harbor. They slipped inside and eased the door shut.
Rajyugas stood near the altar, half-lit by the small lamp. His dark eyes met theirs, unreadable.
"You wandered," he said quietly.
The children froze.
He did not raise his voice. "Curiosity is natural. But some silences are not yours to break."
Ansh opened his mouth—then closed it again. The weight of the man's gaze settled like stone.
Daav gave a soft chirp and burrowed against Ansh's neck, as if agreeing.
Rajyugas turned back toward the inner chamber without another word.
The children huddled near the flickering lamp. Outside, the village remained utterly still—no wind, no cry of night creatures, only the echo of their own uneasy hearts.
Ansh hugged his knees and whispered to Daav, "We'll find out what's hiding here. Tomorrow."
The little firebird blinked, a tiny ember of warmth in the endless quiet, while the village of hushed winds kept its secrets.