Dawn had not yet fully claimed the sky.
The horizon still wore the dull grey of retreating night when the old interstate bus rolled into the small town's stand at 5:30 in the morning. Its brakes sighed like an exhausted animal, and the engine coughed once before falling silent.
Passengers stepped down one after another.
A farmer with a cloth bag slung across his shoulder.A mother half-asleep with a child clinging to her arm.Two college boys arguing over whose luggage had gone missing.
Among them stepped down a young man.
He looked to be around twenty. Not particularly tall, yet the way he carried himself made him difficult to ignore. His shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up his arms, and the early light caught the faint scars across his knuckles.
He placed both feet firmly on the ground and stretched his shoulders as though waking from a long journey.
Then he took a slow breath.
The air was cool.
Quiet.
Unassuming.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Hmm," he murmured softly to himself.
"If it scares you… it may be a good thing to try."
He lifted his small travel bag onto his shoulder and looked toward the waking town.
"Well then," he said under his breath.
"Let's get ready for today."
And with that, he walked away from the bus stand.
Morning soon arrived as it always did.
School bells rang.
Children filled the streets with careless chatter.
Shops opened their shutters one by one.
For Paras, the day had begun like any other.
He woke late, rushed through breakfast while Mira mocked his laziness, and listened half-heartedly to Sparsh reminding him about assignments he had forgotten.
If anyone had watched carefully, they might have noticed one thing.
Paras had not once spoken about the meeting in the park the previous morning.
Not to Mira.Not to anyone.
Even when Sparsh occasionally glanced at him with quiet concern, Paras simply ignored it.
Some truths were easier to pretend had never happened.
The school day passed without disturbance.
Classes.Teachers.Tests.
The usual dull rhythm of ordinary life.
Paras barely paid attention to half the lessons. His thoughts drifted elsewhere again and again.
Every now and then he found himself glancing at Sparsh, remembering the words spoken in the old gazebo.
Antahkaran.
The word still echoed faintly in his mind.
But Sparsh said nothing that day.
He behaved like any other quiet student.
And by the time the final bell rang, the tension in Paras's mind had begun to fade into dull confusion.
_
Across town, in a modest hotel room, the young man from the bus stand stood before a mirror.
It was 4:15 in the afternoon.
The room was simple.
One bed.One chair.A narrow table near the window.
The young man adjusted the collar of his clean white shirt.
He studied his reflection with mild amusement.
"Hmm," he muttered.
"This should do."
He rolled his sleeves neatly and picked up a small notebook from the table.
Inside were several names.
One name had been circled twice.
Paras.
He closed the notebook.
"Alright then," he said quietly.
"It's time."
Evening had begun settling over the school grounds.
Students poured through the front gates in lively groups, their voices carrying across the courtyard.
Paras, Mira, and Sparsh walked together along the path that led outside the main building.
Mira was complaining about her test results.
"I swear that math teacher hates me," she groaned. "Fifty-fifth place? That's just insulting."
Paras smirked.
"You got fifty-fifth? That's actually impressive."
Mira glared at him.
"You're not helping."
Sparsh, as usual, said little.
But just as they approached the school gate—
A familiar figure stood waiting there.
Ananth.
He leaned casually against the iron gate, arms folded, the evening breeze stirring the edges of his coat.
Paras frowned.
"What are you doing here?"
Ananth did not answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze shifted slightly past them.
"Stop for a moment," he said calmly.
Paras looked annoyed.
"Why?"
But before Ananth could answer—
Another voice spoke behind them.
"Ah, perfect timing."
They turned.
The young man from the bus stand stood a few steps away.
His expression carried an easy smile.
"Just the people I was hoping to see."
He looked at the school building with exaggerated curiosity.
"So this is the place where you little brats study, huh?"
His tone was playful. Almost goofy.
"What exactly do they teach you here?"
Paras's temper flared instantly.
"Who the hell are you calling a brat?"
Mira blinked in confusion.
But Sparsh—
Sparsh had gone very still.
His eyes had narrowed slightly.
As if recognizing something he wished he hadn't.
Ananth watched the young man carefully.
His expression did not change.
But his voice carried a quiet edge.
"I believe," Ananth said slowly, "you appear somewhat older than our students."
The young man nodded cheerfully.
"That would be correct."
Ananth tilted his head.
"And I also believe you are already… graduated."
The smile on the young man's face widened.
"Sharp observation."
Ananth's gaze sharpened.
"I think you should introduce yourself properly."
The young man placed a hand casually on his chest and gave a small theatrical bow.
"Names," he said lightly, "are troublesome things."
"But if you insist…"
He straightened.
"Thomas."
Then he added with a grin,
"You can call me Tom."
For a brief moment, Ananth's eyes darkened.
Two thoughts passed through his mind instantly.
The first reason.
Shah had mentioned this name.
The second reason—
Far more unsettling.
Thomas.
One of the the candidates recommended for the title of Atiratha.
A warrior said to possess the strength to stand against seven thousand men.
Recommended personally by Shah after a certain incident.
An incident whispered about in their hidden circles.
The Night of Unakoti.
Where Thomas and two allies had destroyed over one million wandering spirits before sunrise.
And Sparsh knew it too.
Which was why the faintest trace of fear had appeared in his eyes.
Ananth turned slightly toward Paras and Sparsh.
"Go inside the building for a moment."
Paras frowned.
"What? Why?"
Ananth's tone became firmer.
"Just do it."
Something in his voice made Paras hesitate.
Then reluctantly, he turned and walked back toward the entrance with Mira and Sparsh.
Sparsh did not argue.
But as he passed Thomas, the two exchanged a brief glance.
It lasted only a second.
Yet something unspoken moved between them.
Once the three had gone inside the building, Ananth stepped closer to Thomas.
The polite expression vanished from his face.
His voice lowered.
"You arrived earlier than expected."
Thomas shrugged.
"Travel plans changed."
Ananth's eyes narrowed.
"You were scheduled to arrive in eighteen days."
"Hmm."
Thomas tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Schedules are merely suggestions."
Ananth's tone hardened.
"Why are you here?"
Thomas smiled casually.
"You seem terribly suspicious."
"I assure you, I'm not here to make a fuss."
Ananth said nothing.
Thomas glanced toward the school building.
"In fact," he continued cheerfully,
"I am their appointed teacher."
For the first time that evening, Ananth looked genuinely surprised.
Thomas adjusted his bag.
"Well then," he said lightly.
"Duty calls."
And he walked past Ananth toward the building entrance.
Ananth wasted no time.
The moment Thomas disappeared inside, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
The call connected almost instantly.
A voice answered.
Shah.
"What is it?"
Ananth spoke quickly.
"Why is Thomas here?"
There was a pause on the other end.
"…What?"
"Thomas," Ananth repeated. "He's here. At the school."
Silence followed.
Then Shah spoke again, slower this time.
"That's impossible."
"He's supposed to arrive in eighteen days."
"That's what I believed," Ananth replied coldly.
Shah muttered something under his breath.
"I'll check."
The line went quiet for a moment.
Then Shah returned.
"I contacted the teacher assigned to that school."
"And?"
"He said he replaced himself."
Ananth's voice sharpened.
"With whom?"
Another pause.
Then Shah answered.
"…Sir Thomas."
But something about Shah's tone sounded wrong.
Ananth noticed it immediately.
"What's the matter?"
Shah exhaled slowly.
"The teacher sounded terrified."
Ananth's grip on the phone tightened.
A minute later, Shah sent a message directly to Thomas.
A command.
Return immediately.
Outside the school building, Thomas walked slowly along the corridor.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He stopped.
Pulled it out.
And read the message.
For a moment, his expression remained unreadable.
Then he chuckled softly.
He turned around.
Across the courtyard, Ananth stood watching him.
Their eyes met.
Thomas walked back toward him.
He slipped the phone back into his hand and showed the screen briefly.
"Ah," he said pleasantly.
"Orders from Shah."
Ananth did not respond.
Thomas studied the message again.
Then, with a small sigh, he said,
"Such impatience."
And suddenly—
He raised the phone high.
And smashed it violently against the stone ground.
The device shattered instantly.
Pieces scattered across the pavement.
Ananth's eyes narrowed.
Thomas looked up again.
And smiled.
But the smile was no longer friendly.
It was something else.
Something absurd.
Something that made the air feel slightly colder.
He tilted his head and spoke calmly.
"So…