The forest of Wayanad was home to many secrets, but to Aadi and Arul, it was also a playground. Born to Kelappan, the proud chieftain of the Paniya tribe, the brothers had grown up running through its tangled roots and whispering canopies. Aadi, the elder, carried his father's quiet strength and his mother's faith in the gods. He would bow before ancient trees and shrines, offering silent prayers, believing the forest itself listened. Arul, on the other hand, was fire and storm—rebellious, quick to laugh, and quicker to anger. Where Aadi trusted, Arul doubted; where Aadi prayed, Arul cursed.
Yet despite their differences, the two could not be parted. Together they hunted birds with makeshift bows, carved paths through the undergrowth, and watched sunsets bleed across the horizon. The tribe spoke of them as one soul in two bodies: one bound by reverence, the other by defiance.
That evening, Aadi had suggested a walk toward the old Thirunelli temple road—a place shrouded in silence, where only the boldest ventured. "They say the gods walk unseen there," Aadi whispered as they made their way along mossy stones. Arul smirked. "Or perhaps it's only shadows. Don't be fooled by tales, brother."
As they moved deeper, the air grew cooler, the forest denser, and the path less certain. Neither of them knew that this journey would split their lives apart forever.