The city never slept, but tonight, it felt different. Mukul walked the narrow alleys of Delhi, his senses alert. Every shadow seemed alive, every distant footstep suspicious. The black-suited men from yesterday weren't gone—they were watching, waiting.
He ducked behind a stack of crates, heart pounding, and peered around the corner. Two men in tailored suits whispered, their faces half-hidden by the dim light. "He can't be ordinary," one said. "The boy has the spark."
Mukul frowned. Spark? What spark?
Suddenly, a glint of gold caught his eye. The dragon—smaller this time, perched atop a distant rooftop—watched him with piercing eyes. Mukul felt a strange warmth in his chest, a reminder of the power stirring within him. It was as if the creature knew him, as if it were silently urging him forward.
He turned back to the men. They were moving closer, unaware that Mukul had already calculated their every move. Without thinking, he grabbed a discarded pipe and swung it with precision, hitting one in the knee. The man yelped and stumbled.
The other man lunged, and Mukul's instincts took over. He dodged, rolled, and twisted, using his newfound strength and reflexes. It felt natural, almost rehearsed. When the fight was over, both men lay groaning on the ground. Mukul exhaled, adrenaline still pumping.
He didn't have time to celebrate. From a nearby doorway, a muffled groan drew his attention. A stray dog had been trapped under a fallen sign. Mukul rushed over, lifting it with ease. "It's okay, little guy," he murmured, brushing the dust off its fur. Somehow, saving the dog felt as important as defeating the men.
As he stood, a soft voice interrupted him. "Impressive."
Mukul spun. A young woman leaned casually against a lamppost, a notebook in her hand. Her sharp eyes assessed him, not with fear, but with curiosity. "Most people don't handle themselves like that," she said.
"I… uh, thanks," Mukul replied cautiously.
"I'm Detective Meera," she said, flipping her notebook closed. "And I think we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
Before Mukul could ask why, the dragon gave a loud roar, echoing across the rooftops. Both Mukul and Meera looked up. The creature spread its wings, casting a golden shadow over the city.
"They're coming," Meera said softly. "And they're not just the men in suits."
Mukul swallowed. Not just them? His mind raced. Could this be about the mafia, or something older… something tied to the dragon?
He glanced at Meera. Despite her calm tone, he sensed determination—and maybe, just maybe, a hint of amusement at how out of his depth he might be.
The alley fell silent, except for the distant hum of the city. Mukul felt the stirrings of excitement and fear, the strange mix that comes when destiny knocks on your door. And tonight, it had knocked loudly.
One thing was certain: he couldn't run from it anymore.