The three of them was sitting in silence. Rudra sat down beside Om, while Sharanya placed her bags on the kitchen counter.
"I'll prepare something for you both. What do you want to eat?" Sharanya asked, already moving toward the kitchen.
Om gave a small shrug. "Anything is fine, Mom."
Rudra, still dusty from travel, shook her head. "I can't stay long. I'll have to head home soon."
Sharanya nodded and disappeared into the kitchen without protest.
Om turned to her. "So… how was your trip?"
Rudra leaned back into the sofa and gave a short, proud smile. "It was good. I even won the tournament."
Om's eyes lit up with admiration. "That's great! Congrats."
She sighed, her smile fading slightly as her eyes settled on the photograph of the late Viranth, Om's father, displayed on the living room shelf. In front of it sat the ceremonial urn holding his ashes.
"What are you planning to do about the ashes?" she asked gently.
Om followed her gaze and spoke, his voice low. "We'll take them to Kashi in a few days. We'll complete the rituals there."
Rudra nodded in understanding. Kashi—also known as Varanasi—was considered the holiest city in India. Legend had it that those cremated there would find their souls welcomed by Lord Shiva himself. It was believed that salvation awaited them in the afterlife.
Wanting to steer the conversation to lighter things, Rudra tilted her head and asked, "So, what elementals do you hope to get during your test?"
Om smiled faintly. "At first, I was okay with anything. But now… I want something offensive—Fire, Lightning, or even Darkness."
Rudra arched a brow. "Darkness? You know that's a God-tier elemental, right? It's incredibly rare. Only a handful of people in history have ever had it. Fire is common, sure, but I don't think your genes support that affinity."
"True," Om admitted. "But Lightning runs in this family, doesn't it? Both Dad and Shreya have it."
"Exactly," Rudra said, nodding. "And you told me yourself—Shreya's affinity with Lightning might be even stronger than your dad's."
Om gave a faint nod. "Yeah, but no one ever told me the actual percentage. Shreya has both Water and Lightning."
"And what about you?" he asked, glancing sideways at her. "What elemental do you want?"
A smile tugged at her lips, as if she had been waiting for that question. "Ice… or Darkness."
Om laughed softly. "You're aiming high. Ice is a Legendary-tier elemental, and Darkness is, like you said, God-tier. Even a 1% affinity with Darkness is considered extremely prestigious. If someone managed to awaken Darkness and push through the First Stage Chakra… they'd be one in a trillion."
Rudra shrugged playfully. "Well, there's no harm in dreaming."
Om smiled. "True. It's good to dream."
For a brief moment, they both laughed, their grief momentarily forgotten. They talked about the upcoming test, old memories, and their childhood mischiefs. The air felt lighter, more bearable.
Then Rudra's watch buzzed. She looked down at it—it was a call from her mother.
"I need to go," she said, standing up. "She's calling me downstairs."
Om nodded. "Tell her I said hi."
Rudra bid farewell to both Om and Sharanya, who waved from the kitchen, then stepped out of the house. The warmth and comfort of the visit lingered with her as she descended the staircase. She never used the elevator, claiming she preferred the old-school way.
At her apartment one floor below, she rang the bell. The door was opened by a middle-aged woman with soft features and calm eyes—her mother, Manasvi.
Rudra darted in without waiting, not bothering to neatly tuck away her shoes, and slumped beside her father, Harikrishna, on the couch. Her head gently rested on his shoulder.
Manasvi returned after neatly arranging the shoes by the door and asked, "Did you talk to them?"
Rudra gave a tired nod. "Yeah. They're grieving, but… I didn't see much change. They're holding it all in."
Harikrishna met Manasvi's gaze and sighed. "They need time. This isn't something anyone recovers from overnight."
Manasvi, dusting the corners of the room, muttered, "I still don't know how the three of them are managing. When we attended Viranth's funeral, they looked like they were still trying to process it. May Lord Shiva guide him in the afterlife."
Harikrishna nodded silently, and then Rudra added, "Shreya has already gone back to the base."
The room fell into silence.
Both parents looked shocked but composed. They understood the situation at the front lines better than most. Infiltrations, unrest, rising threats—it wasn't the time for personal mourning. Still, they didn't say a word. They just nodded, silently acknowledging the responsibility placed on Shreya's shoulders.
Rudra stood and glanced at the clock. "I have to go. My shooting class starts soon."
She disappeared into her room to change, emerging moments later dressed in practice gear, then left again just as quickly.
After she was gone, Manasvi finished tidying the living room and joined her husband on the sofa. He was watching the news with narrowed eyes.
"We're literally sending our daughter to spy on them," Harikrishna said quietly, eyes locked on the screen.
Manasvi didn't look at him, only exhaled. "I know what I'm doing."
Harikrishna rubbed his temples. "Did you share the latest report with Viranth's family?"
"Not yet. I'll contact them tonight," she replied calmly.
He changed the news channel, sighing. "The test is getting closer. We need to send them the final evaluation."
"I'll do it," Manasvi said. "We both know Rudra and Om are close. They'll talk about it eventually. We'll gather the information from what they say."
Harikrishna frowned. "We're keeping her completely in the dark. She doesn't even know we moved here just to keep surveillance on the Viranth family. That her friendship with Om… wasn't a coincidence."
"She won't like it," Manasvi admitted, her voice tinged with regret.
"No," Harikrishna said, "She'll hate us for it."
"She might," Manasvi whispered. "But one day, she'll understand. Everything we're doing—it's for the family."
Harikrishna remained quiet, eyes fixed on the flickering screen, both dreading and accepting the path they had chosen.