The Hidden Power
And I stood there, silent, watching him, unsure of what awaited us next.
The jungle around us was heavy with a strange silence, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Every rustle of leaves, every distant cry of an unseen bird, felt sharper in that stillness. Shivam lay a few feet away, stretched lazily on the ground as though this mysterious forest were no more threatening than a meadow on a summer afternoon. His calmness irritated me; I couldn't understand how he could rest so easily in a place that felt alive with danger.
Then, as my eyes wandered, I noticed a small clay pot half-buried near a patch of grass. It was old, cracked, but still held some water. My throat was dry, but something stronger than thirst urged me toward it. I bent, lifted it carefully, and dipped a broad leaf into the cool liquid. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the water-laden leaf toward him, half expecting it to fall on his chest and startle him awake.
But that is not what happened.
The moment the leaf reached him, the water behaved as if it had a life of its own. Instead of falling, it shimmered, slipped away, and rose upward, defying gravity. Droplets floated around him like fragments of broken glass catching the dim light. I froze, my breath trapped in my chest.
I was amazed to see this. How did this happen?
The question burned inside me. I bent closer, trying to convince myself it was a trick of my eyes, a dream born from fatigue. But the truth was undeniable—nature itself seemed to bend in his presence, as if some unseen force was guarding him, rejecting even the simplest touch of water.
Impossible, I thought.
My heart pounded in confusion. I had seen strange things before—ever since the day I discovered the speed within me, the gift I had taken from the deer—but this was beyond anything I could explain. And Shivam, of all people, was sleeping through it all, his breathing calm and steady, like a man who had come here only to picnic in the jungle, not to fight for survival.
I turned away, shaken, and walked a little distance from where he was lying. My feet carried me without thought until I reached the edge of a small pond. Its water was dark but inviting, reflecting fragments of moonlight that slipped between the tall trees. Kneeling, I cupped my hands and splashed the water across my face. The shock of cold steadied me, washing away the heavy thoughts. Then I waded in, letting the chill embrace me until my body felt lighter, cleansed.
When I emerged, dripping, I filled my hands again and returned to Shivam. This time I didn't hesitate. I leaned over him and threw the water directly onto his face. But as I did, a strange weight pressed down on me. The air grew heavy, thick, almost unbreathable. My heart hammered against my ribs. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
I stared at him, expecting him to cough, to wake, to scold me for disturbing his sleep. But nothing happened. He remained still, lost in whatever dream held him captive.
I had no other way.
Fear gnawed at me, but so did exhaustion. My legs trembled from the long day, from the strange energy that seemed to drain me every time I drew near him. In the end, I surrendered. I sat down beside him, my back pressed to the roots of a tree, and let my eyes close. I do not know when sleep claimed me, only that the weight of my thoughts dissolved into darkness.
When Shivam got up, he woke me. His hand on my shoulder was firm, pulling me back from dreams I could not remember. My eyes opened slowly, the morning light filtering through the canopy above. For a moment, I was disoriented, struggling to recall where I was and why.
Then I got up again, and as soon as I woke fully, I saw him staring at me strangely. His eyes were sharper than usual, filled with suspicion.
He was asking me from the opposite direction, his voice edged with confusion.
"Hey… how did you get there? You had gone to the opposite side."
I blinked at him, startled. My mind raced. Opposite side? What did he mean? I looked around and realized I wasn't where I had fallen asleep. Somehow, I had shifted, moved across the clearing while unconscious. Had I walked in my sleep? Or had something else carried me?
I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak calmly. "I—I don't know. I had a little problem," I admitted, and then I began telling him everything. I told him about the pot, about the water that refused to touch him, about the pond where I had bathed, and how I had tried to wake him. I described the heaviness, the strangeness in the air, and how I had finally given in to sleep.
But there was one thing I did not tell him.
I kept my power hidden. I never mentioned the moment I had taken the deer's speed into myself, never revealed that I had a strength unlike his. That secret belonged to me alone. For now, it was safer that way. If he knew, he might question me, mistrust me, or worse—see me as something less than human.
So I stayed silent.
Inside, though, the memory of that night remained sharp. The water defying gravity, the way the forest itself seemed to shift around us, and the unsettling truth that Shivam might not be as ordinary as he appeared.
What awaited us next, I did not know. But one thing was certain: the deeper we went into this jungle, the closer we drew to secrets that neither of us could yet understand.
And I stood there, silent, watching him, unsure of what awaited us next ,
Brothers, if you liked the story, please do tell me about my mistake.