As the stars shimmered above, the campsite turned lively and warm, lit by dancing flames and even brighter faces. Laughter echoed through the trees while tents stood proudly beside individual fire pits, the glow flickering like tiny stories waiting to be told.
Four groups had been formed earlier by the teachers and camping guides, each assigned their own little corner with tents and a fire. In the center of it all blazed a larger communal bonfire—where everyone gathered for meals, music, and mischief.
Shankar and Varun landed in the same group, much to their delight. They tossed a few jokes back and forth, already scheming their way to dominate the evening's games.
After a round of light games—antakshari, storytelling, and a few hilarious dares—it was finally time for the most exciting event of the night: Flag Pick.
The rules were simple:
All four groups would begin at the same time.
The task? Find as many hidden flags scattered across the nearby forested area before 9:00 p.m.
The team with the most flags by the deadline would be crowned winners—earning a prize of gooey marshmallows and the unofficial title of "Camp Legends."
The guides, who had hidden the flags earlier, assured everyone that the area was safe and well-marked. The teachers nodded in agreement, though a few of them wore that playful smirk which said they were just as excited to watch as the students were to play.
Each group nominated one or two explorers, depending on their strategy. Shankar found himself stretching, grinning, mentally preparing for the run. Varun cracked his knuckles beside him.
Around the big fire, teams whispered last-minute plans. A little away from the crowd, Savitri jotted something quick in her pocket notebook—maybe just noting down the game name or maybe something else entirely—before tucking it away and joining her team.
Soon, the countdown began.
3... 2... 1... GO!
Four groups burst into motion, flashlights bobbing through trees, voices fading into the dark. The air was thick with excitement, the ground scattered with leaves and clues.
And somewhere within all that rush, adventure was quietly waiting.
Shankar and his group decided it'd be smarter to split up—more ground to cover, more flags to find. It was a strategy move, and honestly, it gave each of them some solo adventure time.
Shankar headed off with his torchlight in one hand, eyes scanning the bushes and trees for any glimpse of the tiny fabric markers. But somewhere between chasing shadows and admiring the way the moonlight filtered through the dense branches, he forgot the game altogether.
The forest had its own rhythm, and he fell into it. The cool breeze, the faint chirping of insects, and the peace of the night sky above made him stop and just breathe. A soft smile crept onto his face. This was so... him.
Then, crack—his torch slipped from his hand, hit a rock, and fizzled out.
"Great," he muttered, picking it up only to confirm the worst—it was done for. Cheap, of course, but that wasn't the issue.
The real problem dawned on him when he noticed how eerily quiet everything was. He couldn't hear the usual sounds of his classmates shouting or laughing in the distance. It felt like he was completely cut off.
He tried calling out—"Varun? Nikhil?"—nothing. He pulled out his phone. No signal. No bars. Just that little icon mocking him.
For a second, the weight of being alone in the woods at night pressed down on him. But he didn't panic. That wasn't his style. Annoyed more than afraid, he took a deep breath and muttered, "Brilliant job, genius. Let's just walk straight. Back the way you came. Simple."
He tightened the straps of his hoodie and started walking, his shoes crunching on dry leaves, hoping his sense of direction hadn't gone on vacation too.
Shankar pressed on, muttering under his breath, leaves crunching like whispers beneath his steps. His broken torch flickered once—then gave up completely, leaving him to the mercy of the pale moonlight. He felt stupid. Lost. Not scared… not yet.
That's when he saw it.
A narrow gap between trees—like the forest had inhaled once and never exhaled.
And there, standing still in the clearing, was a stone slab. Huge. Jagged. Tilted slightly like it had been shoved there centuries ago and the earth just learned to live with it. No moss covered it. No roots claimed it. It was untouched.
He stepped forward, slow, cautious—his breathing shallow.
As he neared, he saw them—carvings. Symbols. Faint, scattered… and disturbingly familiar.
He squinted.
A banyan tree. A gold ring. A temple. A mountain. A man.
But they weren't in the same order as before. They weren't even aligned properly. It looked chaotic. Random. Like a child had etched them under some trance—or worse, someone had tried to hide a meaning by scrambling the pieces of a puzzle.
Shankar's lips parted. His pulse spiked. It felt wrong.
His mind tried to rationalize—"Maybe someone carved them recently?"
But his fingers told him otherwise the moment they touched the stone. The grooves were deep, ancient, eroded by time. Dust flaked off.
These weren't made yesterday.
Then how?
The carvings he had photographed earlier… were they a clue? A map? Or was this whole thing an elaborate joke? He wanted to laugh—but his throat was dry.
Suddenly, everything around him felt too quiet. No rustling. No chirping. Even the wind seemed to halt at the edge of this place.
And then a thought struck him—not a fear, but a question, heavy and absurd:
"Was Swarn Bhandar ever the real destination… or just a distraction?"
What if those carvings in Swarn Bhandar were never meant to lead people to gold… but to this? To here?
The stone just stood there. Still. Cold. Watching him.
For the first time, Shankar felt something he never admitted to himself.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
But a haunting curiosity.
He wasn't looking at a riddle anymore.
He was standing in front of an unsolved mystery.
A sudden chill cut through the night.