The cold air bit into Pranav's skin, but he barely noticed. His fingers rested on his holster, his body locked in place, yet his mind…
His mind was somewhere else.
Somewhere far away.
Somewhere darker.
He was twelve when the world collapsed around him. When fate decided to strip him of childhood and throw him into a reality where he was both the shield and the sword for his family. The day his parents never came home.
No letters. No calls. No goodbyes. Just two burnt identification tags delivered to his doorstep.
He remembered the scent of wet soil that day. The way the monsoon had tried to wash away the truth, as if erasing the past could fix the future.
But it couldn't. He had a brother barely five years old and a sister who didn't understand what "never coming back" meant. They cried for days. He did not. Because he couldn't afford to. Because orphans don't get time to grieve. They only get time to survive.
The world wasn't kind.
Especially not to those without a name, without a legacy. But Pranav wasn't looking for kindness. He was looking for power. Not the kind that corrupted, but the kind that protected.
So he fought. Not with fists. Not with rage. But with discipline. He was fifteen when he set his eyes on the impossible.
The Police Force.
In this era, where the world had redefined strength, where technology dictated survival, the police weren't just officers.
They were elites. Selected from the best of the best. A position so rare, that the probability of making it was 0.0001%.
An impossible dream for a no-name orphan.
A joke to anyone who heard it. But he didn't care. He trained harder than his body could handle. He memorized every law, every regulation. He learned the art of war, not for destruction, but for defense.
He passed the exams. He survived the training. And at nineteen, his name was carved into history.
A Kashyap from Nalanda, among the selected few.
He wasn't supposed to make it. But he did. Because failure wasn't an option. Because his siblings' futures depended on him.
The whispers in his head faded. The ghosts of the past loosened their grip. Pranav exhaled, his focus returning to the present. To the figure standing in front of the bus. To the unnatural limb. To the fight waiting to happen. He had been fighting his whole life.
What was one more battle?
His fingers curled tighter around his weapon. This time, he wouldn't hesitate. This time, he was ready.
01:57 AM, 14th June 2055
The engine gave a low, guttural growl, desperate to surge forward, but the Sarvghan System had sealed their fate. The bus remained immobilized, its electronics restricting movement beyond predefined parameters. Technology—designed to protect—had now become their captor.
Pranav, stilling his breath, stepped forward. Fear was an undeniable force, but surrendering to it was never an option. His hands clenched into fists, fingernails biting into his palms as he surveyed the darkness beyond the headlights.
Four more silhouettes emerged from the void, closing in like circling predators. His calculations were off. Too many variables. Too many of them. His plan was unraveling before it even began.
The one in front was different. Stout-built, unshaken by the presence of a trained officer. His posture was not of arrogance, but of certainty, the kind that belonged to those who had already won. The cruel flicker of amusement played across his lips, faintly illuminated by the headlights.
Then came the voice. Low. Measured. Final.
"Turn off the engine. Kill the lights."
A thick silence strangled the night. Two minutes. No movement. No noise. Just the suffocating weight of inevitability. Then, a sharp hiss. The automatic doors groaned open. The moment their screech cut through the stillness, a wave of paralyzing fear surged through the passengers.
They had never been more vulnerable.
Pranav stepped out. Boots meeting the gravel. A deliberate act of defiance. No shaking hands. No faltering steps. If he was going to die, it would not be as a man begging for mercy. The Isolated leader observed him with a bemused smirk, cocking his head as if inspecting something unexpectedly amusing.
"Ah, now this is a surprise." A chuckle. Low, deliberate. "A 'Gem' in the midst of all this filth."
Pranav ignored the provocation. He had no time to entertain their games. "I'll stay. Let them go." His voice was steady. Unwavering. The leader grinned. A predator amused by its prey's self-sacrifice. "Oh? So noble." His words dripped with mockery. "You must love them very much." He gestured lazily toward the bus. "Or maybe just one in particular." Pranav's jaw tightened. His heartbeat, however steady, now hammered in his skull. They knew. They knew about Chirjivan, his younger sibling.
And that changed everything.
A single flick of the leader's hand. The shadows behind him shifted. The path cleared. The bus had a way out. The driver hesitated for a fraction of a second. Could this really be happening?
"GO!" Pranav commanded. If this was their chance, they had to take it.
The ignition roared. The driver slammed the accelerator. The vehicle jerked back, tires screeching against the asphalt.
But then…
The world shifted. A sickening jolt. The rear right tire snapped off. The bus lurched violently, veering toward the sharp mountain curve.
The engine howled in protest as the rear dragged against the asphalt, metal grinding, sparks dancing like fireflies into the night.
Inside, chaos erupted. Screams. Hands grasping for something, anything to hold onto. The right side dipped, the vehicle teetering on the edge of the rift. A few feet. That was all that remained between life and an abyss that stretched 1,500 feet below. The bus slammed into the guardrails. A groan of protesting metal. The barrier bent. Cracked. Then a section gave way. The right side of the bus was now dangling.
Passengers were flung toward the open void, restrained only by faulty seat belts and failing airbags. A few had already fainted from the shock.
The bus hung in a fragile balance between salvation and doom. Pranav's stomach twisted as realization settled in. The mercy had been a lie. This wasn't a negotiation. The Isolated had never intended to let them live. They had only wanted them distracted. Pranav's gaze snapped back to the leader, whose smirk had widened into something almost serpentine.
"You see, Officer Kashyap…" He spread his arms.
"This? This was never about you."
A distant explosion thundered in the horizon. And at that moment, Pranav understood.
The real attack had already begun.
The wails inside the bus had started to fade into an eerie silence. The only sound remaining was the quiet hum of the wind whistling through the shattered windows and the agonized creaking of the guardrails, barely holding on. It was as if even time had come to a standstill, reluctant to witness the horror that was about to unfold.
Professor inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the nearest handle. "Everyone, please hold your grip and do not move." His voice wavered, betraying the uncertainty in his command. The bus was barely hinged to the guardrails, the right side almost completely suspended over the abyss. The reinforced Carmesheet body had managed to hold the frame together, but it was not impervious to the sheer force of gravity. It was only a matter of time before fate claimed them.
Then, amidst the wavering beams of the flickering headlights, he saw it.
A silhouette– dark, hooded, and motionless, stood barely two meters away from the bus. It was unlike any figure he had seen before, its presence an unnatural void against the dim glow of the night. The weight of its unseen gaze sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.
The others started to take notice. The few who hadn't lost consciousness now clung to one another, paralyzed with fear. No one dared to speak, for the mere sight of the figure had already stripped them of all courage.
Then, it moved.
In one fluid motion, the figure raised a scythe nearly as tall as itself. The blade gleamed under the sparse light, as though anticipating the carnage it was about to unleash. Before anyone could react, the scythe was swung in a perfect arc, cutting through the air with deadly precision.
The impact was instantaneous.
A deafening explosion of sound erupted as the scythe cleaved through the engine compartment. The force of the impact sent a violent shockwave through the bus. Every remaining airbag was triggered at once, a final desperate attempt by technology to shield its passengers from the inevitable. But the effort was in vain.
The bus lurched forward.
Metal screeched as the front wheels lifted off the ground. The fractured guardrails, having reached their limit, finally gave way. For a split second, there was a suspended silence, a cruel moment of anticipation before the abyss swallowed them whole.
Then, they plummeted.
The shrieks of the passengers were drowned by the howling wind as the bus spiraled downward. Debris, shattered glass, and loose seats flung across the confined space. Darkness enveloped them as the unforgiving depths of the canyon became their final resting place.
Above, standing at the precipice, the hooded figure lowered its scythe. The deed was done.
From the shadows, Pranay stood frozen in place, his breaths ragged and uneven. His grip trembled as his fingers hovered over his holstered Glock, but before he could even process his next move, a cold metal pressed against the back of his skull.
"You killed them." His voice was barely above a whisper, his body paralyzed in shock.
The isolated leader, still gripping the gun against Pranay's head, let out a slow exhale. "I do understand that you've been traumatized by this whole event, but we also don't have a choice." He reached forward, unholstered the Glock from Pranay's belt, and tossed it aside with a casual flick of his wrist. His tone was eerily composed, void of remorse.
"Look, I can give you two options. Either die here and force us to find another bait… or follow what we say and become a hero for this nation."
The words barely registered in Pranay's mind. His vision blurred, a boiling rage surging through him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as his fingers twitched, his body aching to retaliate. But before he could act, the cocking of multiple guns around him reminded him of the overwhelming odds stacked against him.
"You know we cannot afford to be stranded here for long," the isolated leader continued, his voice now edged with urgency. "They were mere sacrifices required to buy us time. Because your government's first priority will be them."
Pranay's lips trembled. His fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white, but he was powerless. He had trained his entire life to uphold justice, yet in this moment, justice was nothing but a distant dream.
A single tear slipped down his cheek as his knees buckled. He had failed them. Failed to protect them. Failed to protect his own ideals.
The night swallowed their screams. The canyon embraced its victims. And above, the hooded figure remained unmoving, an omen of death watching over its handiwork.
Somewhere Nearby..
02:55, 14th June 2055
The cold Siachen air carried an eerie silence, broken only by the sharp sound of boots crunching against the frost-laden ground. The regiment had been preparing for the wave shift, an operation vital for their mission, when the sudden blaring of emergency alarms sent a shiver through the ranks, one that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.
"Someone has tried to trespass the compound! They are here!" a panicked voice crackled over the comms.
Lieutenant General Arvind Kaul's jaw clenched as he swiftly turned towards the control deck. "Get me the visuals. Suspend all ongoing operations. Now!" His voice was steel, unwavering, but beneath it, the tension simmered. He had anticipated external threats, but not here, not now.
The soldiers rushed to comply, fingers flying across holographic interfaces as screens flickered with live surveillance feeds. A red dot blinked rapidly near the eastern perimeter—a breach.
"Switch it off," the Lieutenant ordered with a calm intensity. His subordinates hesitated. "I SAID SWITCH IT OFF!" he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
But it was too late.
The power in the facility flickered. Then, with a deafening hum, the lights cut out entirely, plunging the base into darkness save for the faint glow of the backup power grid. A collective breath was held as the soldiers gripped their weapons tighter.
In the shadows, something moved.
A ripple in the air, barely perceptible, shifted unnaturally near the compound's restricted zone. The motion sensors should have picked it up, but whatever it was seemed to exist outside their field of detection,like a ghost in the machine.
"Perimeter squads, report status!" the Lieutenant commanded, but static was all he received in response.
"Sir…" One of the cadets, a young but battle-hardened officer named Karthik, pointed at the main screen. The static feed suddenly reformed, revealing a lone figure standing just outside the compound's main corridor. He was clad in a deep, abyssal cloak, his face obscured by the darkness of his hood. In one hand, he clutched what seemed to be a weapon, but its edges glowed faintly with an eerie silver hue.
And then, he vanished.
"What in the…" Before Karthik could finish his sentence, the temperature in the room plummeted. Frost formed along the glass panels of the control center, and the very air seemed to crackle with unseen energy. A sharp, shrill noise, almost like the sound of metal scraping against ice, echoed through the base.But amid the chaos of lockdown protocols and security breaches, an anomaly had slipped through, a presence that was neither enemy nor expected.
Kriday.
He staggered forward, his body torn with gashes and bruises, his breath shallow. His uniform, or what was left of it, was soaked in a mix of sweat and blood, a stark contrast to the sterile discipline of the military outpost. His head throbbed, flashes of the fall playing in his mind like a fractured reel, plunging into darkness, metal shrieking, the air tearing past his ears, bodies tumbling, screams fading into oblivion. And then, silence. Unrelenting, hollow silence.
Yet, somehow, he had survived. And now, as he limped through the snow-laden entrance of the base, past the imposing steel barriers, past the wary, rifle-clad guards too distracted by the threat of intruders to register his arrival, he had unknowingly crossed into a place he was never meant to be.
His vision blurred. His legs buckled. His breath came out in ragged gasps. He had only been a few meters away from the main operations chamber when the entire atmosphere had changed. His head pounded, as if an unseen force was pulling him somewhere, dragging him through an unseen vortex.
"Help…" The word barely escaped his lips before he collapsed onto the cold ground.
Then, he was no longer in the compound.
Darkness enveloped him. His surroundings twisted, the ground beneath his feet morphing into something that was neither solid nor liquid. It pulsed like a living organism. The cold, harsh air of Siachen was replaced by an otherworldly silence. The sky above him was no longer the dim, starry expanse of the high-altitude desert, it was a swirling abyss of deep purple and crimson streaks.
"What… What is this place?" Kriday whispered, his voice swallowed by the void. He turned around, his mind racing, but every direction seemed the same.
Then, from the swirling shadows, a voice emerged. Hollow, yet deafening.
"Do you desire the power to change Fate?" The words weighed heavy and Kriday was unable to comprehend it. His heart pounded. A figure stepped forward from the darkness, its form barely distinguishable from the shadows it emerged from. Its presence was overwhelming, an entity that did not belong to the world he knew.
Kriday took an instinctive step back, his breath catching in his throat. His body felt weightless, as if gravity itself was no longer the same.
Meanwhile, back at the base, Lieutenant Kaul and his soldiers struggled to regain control of the situation. The power flickered, systems rebooted, but their attempts to contact Kriday were met with silence. The breach had been more than just a physical intrusion, it was something else entirely. Something beyond their understanding.
"Get the emergency strike teams mobilized, We are up against them" Kaul muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
After 2-3 hours..
Kriday's mind stirred awake, dragged from the abyss of unconsciousness by an echoing voice that resonated deep within him.
"It is the beginning, and you have to write its end on your own."
His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sky unlike anything he had ever seen, shimmering hues of violet and deep cerulean swirled as though painted by unseen hands. It was a breathtaking sight, but his body rejected the luxury of admiration. Agonizing pain surged through his limbs, forcing a hoarse groan from his lips. His fingers clawed at the earth beneath him, damp with an unnatural warmth. This was not the icy terrain of the base. This was... somewhere else.
With trembling hands, he pressed against the ground to lift himself, only for a sharp pain to radiate through his right shoulder, sending fresh waves of agony through his body. He gasped, his ragged breath carrying flecks of blood. His gaze flickered downwards, the realization settling like an iron weight in his stomach; he had been shot.
Three bullet wounds marred his body, one embedded deep in his right shoulder, two more puncturing his left thigh. The blood loss alone should have rendered him unconscious long ago, but something was keeping him tethered to reality. A throbbing dizziness accompanied each heartbeat, his limbs quivering from sheer exhaustion. His mind, however, remained alert, scanning his surroundings in an attempt to rationalize where he was.
He was lying in a field that stretched endlessly, lush with a type of greenery that was almost ethereal. The trees towered high, their bark a dull, weathered grey but crowned with glistening silver leaves that shimmered even without sunlight. The air carried a scent of something unearthly, neither floral nor herbal, just a presence that demanded to be felt rather than defined.
Was he hallucinating?
The sounds around him were foreign, a distant blend of whispers, rustling leaves, and a faint gurgling of water nearby. He turned his head, wincing as the pain in his shoulder protested against the movement. A stream flowed beside him, its crystalline waters moving at an unsettlingly smooth pace. It was almost too perfect. Too controlled.
A chill ran down his spine, not from the environment, but from an unshakable feeling that he was being watched.
And then, he heard it.
A rhythmic pounding in the distance, growing stronger with each passing second.
Galloping.
The earth beneath him trembled, as if acknowledging the approach of something colossal. The sound wasn't of a horse or any animal he recognized—it was heavier, primal, a deep rumble that struck a primal fear into his core. His instincts screamed for him to move, but his body remained shackled by exhaustion and injury.
Then, the voice reached him.
"It is a Raigon. Run for your life!"
The desperate warning came from somewhere, filling his ears as though thundered by the very air around him. His breath hitched, adrenaline surging into his veins as the galloping sound escalated into a thunderous roar. It was getting closer.
The fear of the unknown is often the worst kind of terror, and Kriday had never felt more helpless. But his will to survive flared once more. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced his arms to push against the ground, his muscles straining as he struggled to lift himself.
His vision swam, his body weak, but he knew, whatever a Raigon was, it was coming. And if he stayed, he would die.
Somewhere in the shadows of this surreal new world, the hunt has begun.
Destiny is in motion, and the fates of both realms have been irreversibly stirred.