Shivam stared at the floor, the shadows stretching long under the faint light of his desk lamp. His chest tightened with the weight of it.
Aman continued, quieter this time. "Just… don't tell her everything yet. Not until we know if this is her pulling pieces from outside, or someone putting them in her head. Understand?"
Shivam nodded slowly, though Aman couldn't see it. "Understood."
"And Shivam…" Aman added, his voice shifting into something almost brotherly. "This isn't like before. We don't have powers. No rebels backing us up. No Adhivita helping her with her Status or powers. Just us. Our mistakes will cost more here than they ever did there."
Shivam let the words settle. He thought of the mines, of the blade in his chest, of the way he had crawled back from things no one here could imagine. He swallowed hard.
"I know," he said quietly. "That's what scares me."
Neither spoke for a moment, the silence thick. Then Aman cleared his throat. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we regroup. And Shivam?"
"Yeah?"
"Watch your back. And hers."
The line clicked dead.
Shivam set the phone down gently, staring at the blank screen. His reflection looked back faintly in the black glass, tired, wary, older than he should feel.
He didn't move for a long time. Only when the clock struck midnight did he finally rise, slip the burner under his pillow, and stretch out on the bed.
But sleep didn't come easy. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Bhumika clutching her head, whispering about Subject Seventeen. And beneath it all, the gnawing question he couldn't shake:
Why her?
The morning air still carried a trace of last night's drizzle, dampening the campus grounds and leaving the stone steps slick. Shivam arrived earlier than usual, coffee in one hand, the burner phone tucked in his jacket pocket. He hadn't slept much, Aman's warning circling in his head like an echo that refused to die down.
He didn't have to wait long. Bhumika emerged from the library's side entrance, her bag weighed down with books again. But unlike the day before, she looked calmer, collected, almost deliberate. She spotted him and gave a faint nod before walking over.
"You're early," she said, adjusting the strap of her bag.
"So are you," Shivam countered.
A wry smile tugged at her lips, but it faded quickly. She gestured toward a quieter bench tucked under a neem tree. "Let's sit. I… need to show you something."
They settled, the morning bustle of students drifting faintly from across the grounds. Bhumika pulled out a thick folder, her fingers hesitant before she passed it to him.
Shivam raised a brow. "This looks heavy."
"Open it," she said simply.
Inside were pages filled with diagrams, notes, and rough sketches. At first glance, they looked like some engineering student's half-finished schematics. But the more Shivam turned the pages, the colder his stomach grew.
The lines were jagged but purposeful. Circular frames, coils, wires drawn again and again from different angles. Notes scrawled in the margins: resonance frequency? parallel vibrations? The fuel resource?? not stable yet.
And at the center, a crude sketch of a machine.
Shivam froze. His throat dried as recognition struck.
It wasn't identical. Smaller, less refined, more improvised. But it was unmistakable. A scaled-down version of the Space-Time Ripper, the machine the Navik Order had tried to activate back in the other world. The one they'd fought to destroy.
"Where did you get this?" His voice came out sharper than intended.
Bhumika flinched slightly. "I… didn't get it. I saw it. In my head. Three nights ago." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "It's one of the recurring visions. I don't know what it does, not exactly. But I couldn't shake it. So, I wrote it down before it slipped away."
Shivam stared at the drawing again, his pulse hammering. "You saw this? As in a dream?"
"Yes. The same way I saw those crystals. The same way I…" she trailed off, remembering the seizure-like episode, "…saw you getting stabbed."
The silence stretched between them.
Finally, she said, "Look, I don't think this is random anymore. If I keep seeing the same thing over and over, maybe it's not just noise. Maybe it's a map. Maybe I'm supposed to… follow it."
Shivam snapped the folder shut. "No. Absolutely not."
Her eyes widened. "You don't even know what I'm suggesting,"
"I know exactly what you're suggesting," he cut in, his voice tight. "You think building this thing will give you answers. But you have no idea what it is, what it does. And trust me, Bhumika, you don't want to know."
She leaned back, stung but defiant. "So, your solution is what? Ignore it? Pretend it's just my brain glitching out? That didn't work with the crystals, and it won't work now."
Shivam clenched his jaw, fighting to keep calm. "Bhumika… machines like this don't exist here. And they shouldn't. They tear things open. They ruin everything they touch."
Her gaze narrowed, searching his face. "You're talking like you've seen one before."
The words hung heavy. Shivam didn't answer immediately. He looked away, out at the students cutting across the wet lawn, laughing, unbothered. Worlds apart from the weight pressing down on him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Just promise me you won't try to build this. Whatever it is, it's not the path you want to go down."
She hesitated. Her fingers brushed the edge of the folder, lingering as though she wasn't ready to let it go. Then, slowly, she pulled it back into her bag.
"I hear you," she said. But her tone carried a quiet steel beneath it.
Shivam knew that look. The stubborn set of her jaw, the way she avoided his eyes. She wasn't convinced.
"Bhumika," he started, but stopped himself. Pushing now would only widen the gap.
Instead, he exhaled and said softly, "Just… be careful. Please."
For a moment, her expression softened. "You worry too much," she murmured.
"Not enough," he replied.
They sat in silence for a while longer, the morning sun breaking through the clouds, warming the damp earth. Around them, campus life carried on as though nothing had changed. But Shivam felt it , the shift, subtle but real.
Something was moving faster now.
Bhumika stood finally, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I should head to class."
Shivam rose too, still unsettled. "I'll walk you."
She shook her head. "It's fine. I've got it."
He didn't press. Just watched as she turned and melted into the flow of students.
Only when she was gone did he whisper to himself, "She's going to build it anyway."
The thought chilled him. Because if she did… he already knew what kind of door it might open.