Morning in the floating city didn't come with a rising sun.
It came with artificial light — sterile, perfect, and cold — washing over towers and streets like a pale memory of the real world. Deep beneath that glittering surface, in the hidden heart of the rebellion, Aman and Naina sat stiffly at the edge of their cots, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them like chains.
"You're not stepping outside," Vidhart said, his arms folded across his chest. "You're too important."
Aman frowned. "Important how?"
Vidhart's mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"You're proof that the Dominion's lies aren't complete. That there's a world they tried to erase — and failed." He leaned forward.
"My men will find your friends. They know the city's veins better than anyone. You two — stay hidden. Stay safe." Aman wanted to argue. Wanted to fight. But the look in Vidhart's eyes silenced him. They had to trust someone. For now.
Even as Vidhart's soldiers scouted the city above, Aman and Naina felt the hours dragging like chains. They trained — pushups, reflex drills, basic spear work — but it wasn't enough. Not to silence the voice inside. Where are they? Why haven't they found them yet? Naina paced the edges of the base like a caged animal. Aman lingered at the comm station longer than needed. Training gave them something to do. But not something to believe in. Only the restless hope that their friends were still out there — and still alive.
Far above, three souls stirred awake in the warmth of borrowed safety. That night, we hadn't slept in the ruins. We'd gone back — to Raghu and Janvi's home. The only place that felt remotely like a home now. They didn't ask questions when we knocked. Didn't hesitate. They just opened the door and quietly made space for us. It wasn't peace. But it was comfort. A rare, fragile thing.
By midday, we were back out, walking the streets we had already memorized and yet couldn't decipher. Searching — for signs, clues, anything. The parade route was unchanged. Neon flashing. Crowds buzzing. Guards watching with lazy suspicion. Nothing of value. Nothing of meaning. Just noise.
We looped through three districts before finally slowing down, legs aching, hope fading. But then, something caught our attention. Down a narrow alley behind a row of vending stalls, voices rose — sharp and angry.
A scuffle. Three boys, our age, had someone cornered against a cracked wall.
It looked like a bad deal gone wrong — a game or a theft, maybe.
But Aanchal squinted.
"That's not a boy," she muttered. "That's a girl." I blinked. Looked again. Baggy hoodie. Masked expression. But yeah — the posture. The mannerisms. It wasn't hard to tell.
The tallest boy grabbed her collar, raising his fist. I didn't even think. I sprinted. But before I reached them — it was over.
She moved like a lightning bolt. A twist of the wrist. A shoulder slam. A kick to the knee.
In less than ten seconds, all three boys were lying unconscious in the alley. The girl straightened, breathing easy, then turned and grabbed my shoulder.
"You with them?" she snapped.
"N-No," I stammered. "We just saw you were in trouble—"
"We came to help," Aanchal added, stepping into view with Dikshant. The girl narrowed her eyes. Then shrugged.
"Cool," she said. "Then thanks, I guess." She introduced herself as Adhivita. Fast-talking. Sharp-smiling. Trouble on two legs. Before we knew it, she'd wrapped herself into our day — walking beside us like she'd always been there.
She claimed the fight had been about a stolen game chip — but didn't seem bothered by the brawl at all. Over the next few days, Adhivita stuck around. We didn't invite her. She just… stayed. And strangely, we let her.
Every corner we searched, she followed. Every shadow we ducked, she pointed out faster. And somewhere in between, she started teaching us.
"You're moving too loud," she said once, swatting Aanchal with a rolled-up map. She showed us how to move like whispers. How to twist out of grabs. How to throw a punch that made someone forget their name. We called it playing. But it wasn't. She was training us. And we were learning.
Especially me. I should've been cautious.
I should've listened to Aanchal and Dikshant, who kept whispering warnings.
"She's too smooth," Aanchal warned. "Don't tell her anything real," Dikshant said.
But it's hard to be smart when someone makes you feel like you matter. And Adhivita? She made the world feel slightly less broken — even if it was all an illusion.
One rainy afternoon in early August, the sky sagged low with silver clouds. We'd split up for the day — agreeing to meet back at the parade site by evening. Adhivita and I wandered together, ducking through alleys, laughing at nothing. Until she stopped walking.
"You're always searching," she said suddenly, voice quieter than usual.
"You, Aanchal, Dikshant. Always looking around corners, whispering when you think no one hears." My chest tightened.
"What are you looking for, Shivam?" I hesitated. Looked away.
"You don't have to tell me," She said. "But I already know you're looking for someone. Or some...ones." There was something in her voice. Not mockery. Not malice. Just... understanding. So, I told her. Everything.
The school day. The metro crash. The robotic knights. The survival. The garbage mines. The escape. Aman. Naina.
She didn't interrupt. Didn't joke. She just listened. By the time I finished, the rain was pouring. She still hadn't said a word.
"We should head back," I said softly. She nodded once.
By the time we reached the parade grounds, Aanchal and Dikshant were already there, waiting under a broken streetlamp.
"Took you long enough, lovers," Dikshant teased, trying to cut the tension.
I laughed awkwardly, trying not to look at Adhivita.
Then — the air shifted. A hush spread like a shockwave through the street. Crowds gathered, bowing low.
A golden chariot approached, pulled by sleek mechanical beasts that gleamed in the rain. It came to a stop a few meters away from us. We barely had time to react before a figure stepped out. Tall. Regal. Smiling like a knife. Lavin Vyer. Son of Commander Navek Vyer. Second prince of the Dominion.
He lifted a hand — and the chariot halted completely. He stepped forward. His eyes locked onto us. No — not us. Her. He looked straight at Adhivita. And smiled. "Playtime's over, sister."