The following night, Dhruv was hearing a Rajasthani folk tune, finding comfort in its jarring melody. His phone suddenly broke the tranquility, ringing out. He knew whose call it would be. Fear gripped his belly as he picked up.
The tone was icy and unforgiving. "Dhruv," it started, no greetings exchanged, "we are aware of your talents. We are aware of what they can do. We have invited you to join us once before."
"I have nothing to give you," Dhruv answered.
The voice laughed coldly. "You are mistaken. Your powers… They are for Dashanan. We can teach you to control them, to make you… more."
At that moment, Dhruv was shocked to know that Dashanan knew about his powers that much. But How ??
"I don't require your assistance," Dhruv shot back.
"You believe you don't," the voice spat. "You are young, foolish. You don't know what you can do. You are tampering with something dangerous. We can direct you, keep you safe… or we can claim our due."
A shiver went down Dhruv's spine.
"One month," the voice went on, the threat clear. "Join us, and be rewarded. Refuse… and face consequences so cruel, so unimaginable, you will regret it. Think carefully, Dhruv. Your future, and those you care about, depends on it."
The line went dead, with Dhruv being left in cold silence. One month. He had a month to decide, a month to guard Anika and himself against Dashanan. The decision was his, but not the repercussions. He knew that Dashanan would exact vengeance.
The last thirty days had been brutal, an incessant grind of training and preparation. Under the blistering Rajasthani sun, in a hidden location away from prying eyes, Dhruv and Anika had pushed themselves to their absolute limits.
Anika, leveraging her mind and unshakeable resolve, had become his tactician, his coach, his rock. She had studied old books, reconstructing bits of lost knowledge on his abilities, coming up with drills to refine them, to master them, to own them.
Dhruv, spurred on by the impending deadline and the ominous warning from Dashanan, had changed. He was no longer the uncertain, apprehensive boy he used to be. He had learned to control the turbulent energy of his powers. He could now swim through the churning seas of Divya Drishti, cutting through the cacophony to reach the truth. He had developed Vaani Siddhi, knowing its boundaries, learning how to use his voice not as a manipulative tool, but as a beacon of clarity, of power.
And he had mastered the daunting, thrilling art of time control. He could now reliably retain those valuable five to 8 seconds, using them with precision and finesse.
The debilitating fatigue that had previously incapacitated him was now a tolerable buzzing, a reflection of the strength he wielded.
He was ready. Not only ready to combat Dashanan, but he was hungry for it. They had given him a month to contemplate. They had given him a month to prepare. They had misjudged him. And now they were going to regret it.
A month had elapsed. The hot Rajasthani sun pounded down on the city, echoing the intensity of anticipation that seethed inside Dhruv.
The deadline had come.
He knew Dashanan would not wait. He stood in his tiny apartment, the comforting space now a home base for what lay ahead. He considered Anika, her steadfast encouragement, a steady source of reassurance. He considered the cold voice on the phone, the veiled threats thinly covered that had driven his intense training. He was ready.
The phone call came that night, as he had expected. His mother, her face twisted with concern, thrust the phone at him. "It's them again, Dhruv," she whispered.
He snatched the phone from his mother, his hand firm now, fear that had earlier seized him giving way to a steel-like determination. He pressed the phone to his ear.
The voice was cold, harsh, and completely lacking in warmth. "Dhruv," it started, the familiar chilling voice making him shudder, but this time, it was not a shudder of fear, but of expectation. "The time is up."
"I will not come with you," Dhruv answered, his voice firm now, with a newfound determination. He was no longer the same boy they had visited a month before.
The voice laughed mockingly. "You think you have a choice?"
"I do," Dhruv said. "And I choose to fight."
"Foolish," the voice spat. "You cannot possibly hope to resist us."
"I'm not alone," Dhruv retorted.
"We know about your little friend, Anika," the voice taunted. "She is of no use."
"You're wrong," Dhruv replied. "She is my strength."
"You will regret this," the voice hissed. "Prepare for the consequences."
The line went dead. The threat loomed in the air, but this time it did not fill Dhruv with the same terror. It was a warning, indeed, but it was a challenge as well.
As Dhruv hung up, the sinister threat resonating in the silence, the phone rang. It was Anika. Her voice was tense, taut with fear. "Dhruv… something's wrong. I can't get hold of my parents. I went home, and… nobody's there. The house… it's a mess."
Before Dhruv could reply, his mother walked in, her face creased with concern. "Dhruv, have you spoken to Anika? Her parents aren't taking their phones, and… there's been some rumor in the neighborhood…" She finished talking, the unsaid fear hanging in the air.
He knew. He understood what it signified. Dashanan was striking. They were sending a message.
"We have to meet," Dhruv said, his voice urgent. "Tonight. We need to figure this out."