The black apple sat on Rohan's table,
glowing through its cracked surface
like something inside it had finally awakened.
The room was silent.
Not natural silence—
a forced, heavy silence
that made Rohan's ears ring.
He backed away slowly.
The crack on the apple widened.
A faint blue light pulsed inside—
soft…
then stronger…
then almost like a heartbeat searching for something.
Rohan whispered to himself:
"Please… don't open…"
But the orchard never listened.
The First Light
A thin stream of cold mist
escaped through the crack—
swirling upward,
curling like pale smoke.
But this mist didn't drift randomly.
It pulled itself forward,
dragging toward Rohan
like it could smell him.
Rohan pressed against the wall,
his breath sharp and uneven.
"Why are you coming to me…?"
The mist touched his hand—
and a silent whisper slammed into his mind:
"…because you can hear it…"
Rohan's heart nearly stopped.
He knew who this whisper belonged to.
The orchard.
Not the girl.
Not the apple.
The orchard itself.
Its voice wasn't a voice—
it was a pressure,
a vibration inside his chest.
Rohan clutched his head.
"Stop!
Just tell me what you want!"
The mist tightened around his wrist
like cold fingers.
Another silent message:
"…I want my voice back…"
Rohan staggered.
"Your… voice?
But orchards don't have voices."
The air darkened.
Mist thickened.
The apple throbbed again.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
And then—
the entire surface cracked open.
Inside the Apple
A small object dropped onto the table—
round, dark, pulsing with blue veins.
A black seed.
But this time,
the seed wasn't lifeless like earlier.
It was breathing.
Its pulse matched Rohan's heartbeat.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Rohan felt dizzy.
"Why is it connected to me…?"
Then—
the room temperature dropped sharply.
The red mist formed.
Shruti's silhouette appeared.
Weak.
Almost collapsing.
She pointed at the seed—
her form trembling badly.
A single message entered Rohan's mind:
"…don't touch it again…"
He swallowed hard.
"Shruti—
what is happening to me?"
Her silhouette flickered violently,
like the orchard was suppressing her.
Still,
another message came through:
"…once the seed awakens…
it chooses a host…"
Rohan's breath caught.
"Host for WHAT!?"
Shruti's form cracked—
mist breaking apart like glass.
Her final message
came broken and soft:
"…to speak the silence…
for the orchard…"
She vanished before finishing.
The seed rolled toward Rohan,
stopping right at his foot.
It pulsed once—
bright blue.
And the silence in the room
shifted from cold…
…to EXPECTANT.
As if the orchard
was waiting for Rohan to pick it up.
Waiting
for his answer.
Waiting
to claim him.