The air was thick with smoke and silence as Aarav approached the remains of Naira's house. Charred wood. Blackened walls. The structure had clearly suffered a recent fire—yet there were no signs of emergency services. No yellow tape. No neighbors whispering in concern.
"Naira…" Aarav said through the Soul Connection, his voice low. "Your house… it's been burned."
A sharp breath from the other end. "It was fine just a week ago".
Aarav stepped through the collapsed front gate, boots crunching over ashes. "I'm looking right at it. Someone torched it. Recently."
Anahata buzzed. "No active heat signatures. But the fire was deliberate—accelerants used. This was a clean burn. Targeted."
The walls were scorched, but some of the structure still stood. Aarav carefully made his way inside what used to be the living room, navigating through debris and shadows.
"I'll try to find her room," he said. "Anything she might've hidden, it'd still be in the bones of this place."
Naira guided him. "Top floor, left side. But be careful."
The staircase was half-collapsed. Aarav used a metal rod to hoist himself up.
Anahata switched to infrared. "Minimal heat residue. Fire was five to six days ago."
He reached the room. Charred remains of furniture, burnt books, the smell of old smoke clinging to everything.
Nothing obvious remained. He kicked through what used to be a cabinet… nothing. Then, something caught his eye.
A photo frame, only half-burned, lodged between two broken floorboards.
He picked it up carefully. The glass was cracked, but the photo was intact—Naira, her sister… and a man.
"Who's this?" he asked.
"My dad," Naira replied. "He died in an accident years ago."
Anahata pulsed. "Wait. There's a residue scan… something's behind this frame."
Aarav pried it open. Ash fell out, but behind the backing, scrawled in faded pen, was a number:
A-1139-042
He stared. "This number… I know it."
It hit him like a wave—his father's missing case. That number was on the last file he'd ever seen before the case was buried.
"I need to confirm something. Naira, stay connected."
POLICE RECORD ROOM – 3:09 AM
Dressed as a late-night janitor, Aarav moved silently through the halls of the city's police archive. Anahata disabled minor alarms, rerouted internal cams.
Inside the dusty archive, Aarav yanked open the "Unfiled – Discontinued" drawer.
And there it was.
A-1139-042 – MISSING PERSON: RAVI SEN
Filed by: Officer Raghav Anand
Naira's father.