Raxorath.
It was a planet that had once lived and breathed — and now it was merely a place to exist. Somewhere you could stay, but without feeling anything. Without needing to.
Leader's ship landed — with that specific sound that was distinct only within Raxorian atmosphere. Heavy. Final. As though the atmosphere itself understood that whoever had arrived would never return the same way again.
Outside, the ground was cracked. Dark. That particular shade which had always been Raxorath's identity — neither night nor day — only that in-between which constantly reminded you that nothing here was normal. Nothing here had ever been normal.
Leader stepped outside.
And now he stood there.
Just stood.
Earth.
On the laptop screen, a tiny character was running — left, right, jump — and Riya's hands were resting on the keyboard, but her attention was somewhere else entirely.
The game was running.
She was not.
The room held only two sounds — the monotonous hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional murmur of Riya talking to herself while playing. Mother had left for her kitty party since morning. Father was at the office. The house was empty — that particular kind of empty which only exists when you are genuinely alone and no one needs anything from you.
Riya liked this emptiness.
She guided her character toward another platform — the character fell — game over.
"Again," she said to herself. And pressed restart.
The door opened — with that specific knock that only Rana ever made. One knock first, then entering without waiting for an answer.
Riya looked up. Rana was standing in the doorway — bag still on his shoulder, shoes still on his feet — and his face carried that particular expression which appears when someone wants to share something and simply cannot hold it back any longer.
Happiness. Genuine. Slightly childlike.
This was not the Rana who used to exist in college.
Riya thought this — then closed her laptop.
"Sit down," she said. "And tell me something first — what was happening in that park in front of the Food Scientist shop this morning? I was passing by that side on my way to class — I saw you there. Something was going on. But I was getting late so I couldn't stop."
Rana paused for just a moment.
Then he threw his bag aside — onto the sofa — and pulled a chair directly in front of Riya and sat down. The way children sit when they have something to say that is still settling inside them.
"Alright. If you want to hear it — hear all of it."
"I'll hear all of it."
"So what happened that day was —" and Rana began.
"It was morning. The campus felt completely fresh — freshers were wandering around in groups — nervous, excited — that first-day energy which exists only on the very first day and never again."
"I was sitting on the staircase in front of the Food Scientist shop — one leg on a step, hands in my pockets. Arjun was with me — we had coffee."
Riya smiled faintly.
"Then Arjun called out — 'Hey freshers, come here. The real orientation session happens right here.' Five or six juniors stopped. They looked at each other — that specific nervousness of the first day when you don't yet know what a senior's intentions are."
"I was just sitting there — gave them a signal with my eyes — and they all lined up."
"Then Arjun pointed at one boy. 'Do you have any talent?' The boy said he liked singing — so Arjun told him to introduce himself in rap style."
"The boy was confused — 'Sir, I can't do that right now.'"
"'Not sir — bro,' I said."
"'Yes, bro...'"
"And a smile came across my face — one I couldn't stop."
"Riya — he started. Do you want to hear it?"
Riya raised an eyebrow. "Go on then."
Rana cleared his throat — attempting to keep a straight face —
My name is Rohit, CSE first year,
Left home with mummy's blessings and a bag of fear,
Coding's a mystery, maths makes me weak,
But in every selfie, bro, I'm looking sleek.
Papa said son, go make us proud,
Now I'm standing here, nervous in this crowd,
Seniors all around me, my heart filled with fear,
Just one little prayer — hostel will give me beer.
Rana paused —
Riya was quiet for one second —
Then she laughed. Actually laughed — the kind you cannot stop. Away from the screen, toward Rana — completely.
"Beer?!" she said.
"Beer," Rana confirmed. "Arjun stayed serious for three full seconds — perfectly straight face — then completely lost it. I turned away — tried to hide my smile — couldn't. One junior elbowed his friend so quietly that only the two of them heard — 'The beer line, everyone heard it.'"
"Rohit was standing there — red-faced — but there was a small smile on his face too. That specific smile which appears when you yourself know that something unintentionally funny came out of you — and you cannot stop it either."
Riya was still smiling faintly. "Then what?"
"Then Arjun called over a girl — 'You. Propose to this tree. Full emotion. Go.'"
"She was embarrassed — visibly, completely. Her face had gone red. But —" Rana paused for a moment. "But she still did it. In front of everyone. Alone. Because she didn't know what would happen if she refused."
Riya's smile faded slightly. She was listening differently now.
"Everyone was laughing. Us too." Rana looked at his own hands. "Then another senior arrived — one who wasn't part of our plan. He wasn't one of ours. He directly shoved one of the juniors from behind — hard — for no reason at all. The boy almost fell."
Riya said nothing.
"I stood up immediately." The shift in Rana's voice was the kind that is a reflex — not thought through. "'Hands down,' I said. Silence fell across the entire area. For one second everything went completely still — the smell of chai, the breath of the juniors, everything."
"The senior laughed. 'Bro, it was a joke.'"
"I walked up to him. Directly. Looked him in the eyes. 'There is a difference between a joke and humiliation' — that was all I said. He said nothing. He left."
The room held only the fan.
"But Riya —" Rana's voice shifted slightly. "When I turned back toward the juniors — for the first time I actually looked at them properly. That boy who had almost fallen — his hands were trembling slightly. He was hiding it — in his pockets — but they were trembling."
"And it hit me then —"
Rana stopped. Genuinely stopped — the kind of pause that is not performed.
"What happened before — the rap, the tree — that was forced for them too. It was fun from our perspective. What was it from theirs? That girl who was proposing to a tree — what was she actually feeling inside?"
Riya spoke — looking directly at him. "That was wrong too, Rana. All of it."
"I know. Which is why afterward I turned to the juniors and said — 'Listen, all of you. Building confidence is one thing. Touching someone or insulting them is not allowed.' Then I went to that boy. Asked him — which department. CSE. He didn't know where his classroom was. I told Arjun — take him."
"Arjun smiled and said — 'VIP treatment for you, mate' — light laughter broke out. The tension eased a little."
"I sat back down. Told the remaining juniors — 'Next. Introduce yourself. With confidence.'"
Rana looked up for a moment —
"And Riya — it was different. Those who had been standing there afraid before — they were standing differently now. Something had changed. I can't say exactly what. But it had."
"That confuses me more than stopping that senior did."
Riya was quiet for a long moment.
Outside, sunlight was coming through the window — falling in one corner of the room. That evening patch which arrives just before the day decides to leave.
"Rana —" There was no lecture in Riya's voice. It was that tone which appears when something is being said from the heart — not from argument. "What you did with that senior — 'hands down' — that was a reflex. Which means something inside you already knows where the line is."
Rana said nothing.
"But that first part —" Riya was looking directly at him. "The rap. The tree. That was forced for them too. You talk about building confidence — but it doesn't build like this. It doesn't come from making someone awkward in front of a crowd. That was your entertainment — their discomfort."
Rana's gaze dropped.
"And what you felt — when you saw those trembling hands — hold onto that feeling. Keep it." Riya paused. Then quietly — "But next time, let that feeling come earlier. Let it come when you're asking someone to rap. Let it come when you're asking someone to propose to a tree. Don't wait for someone to start trembling, Rana — by then it's already too late."
One second.
"You are changing. I can see it — genuinely." Riya's voice was almost careful. "Just bring that change a little earlier. That's all."
"Alright," Rana said. Quietly. Directly.
Alright, my Riya.
This time he did not smile inside.
He simply listened. Completely. And something settled — inside — that thing which happens when a truth actually lands somewhere deep and stays there.
Then the main door opened.
Mother's voice —
"Rana! You're back? Come, come —"
Three people sat together deciding what to order from outside. Rana wanted pasta. Mother wanted Chinese. Riya wanted something between the two — which wasn't actually on any menu — but she tried anyway.
It was an ordinary evening — the kind which only exists when a home actually feels like a home.
Then Riya opened her eyes.
The room was dark. The fan was running. The laptop was closed.
She was on her bed — alone — exactly as she had been since morning.
Mother was at the kitty party. Father was at the office. Rana had not come.
All of it — the park in front of the Food Scientist shop, rap-performing Rohit, "beer... I meant chai", the girl by the tree, the trembling hands, "alright, my Riya", the pasta and Chinese argument —
All of it was inside Riya's mind. Memories. From another day. Another time entirely.
She looked at her hand — directly — in the faint light of the lamp.
That hand which was now a weapon key.
She had been revisiting all of this — all of this ordinary past — to remind herself. To tell herself what she needed to hear.
It is time, Riya. Time to do something for your family.
She closed her eyes. Drew a long breath — inward — deep — as though storing something.
The smell of home. The sound of the fan. The warmth of an ordinary day.
And then —
She got up.
The lamp in her room was still burning.
Rana had the gadget in his hand — screen active — GENERATE WEAPON — those words which were now an instruction, no longer a mystery.
"Are you ready?" Rana asked — quietly.
Riya nodded. She was standing near the window — darkness outside — the city's lights far away. She looked outside once — then turned back toward Rana.
"Do it."
Rana looked at the screen — one last time — then —
He pressed the button.
What happened was not slow.
Not at all.
A flash — white — so sharp that every object in the room became a silhouette for one second — Riya's outline — the flame of the lamp — the nameplate on the wall — everything was only shadow for that single moment —
Then —
There was something in Rana's hand.
It had not been there before. Now it was.
He looked down.
The weapon.
What it was —
It was nothing like human weapons. Entirely different. It was not metallic — or it was — but that metal which does not exist on Earth. Its colour shifted — dark base with blue veins running through it — veins that pulsed — as though it was breathing. The handle fit perfectly in the hand — as though it had been measured and crafted specifically. As though it had been made for this particular hand.
Because it had.
There was weight to it — but the kind of weight that does not make you uncomfortable. The kind that feels familiar without reason. The kind that sends a signal through the body — this is yours. It always was.
Rana turned it once — slowly —
And the weapon responded.
The blue veins brightened slightly. As though recognising something. As though it too had been waiting.
Riya drew a breath — sharp — involuntary.
"This —" she stopped. "This is real."
"Yes," Rana said. His voice was different. That specific shift which comes when something that existed only in theory — arrives in your hands.
Raxorath — Command Chamber.
Veyrath was there.
Leader entered. And Veyrath remained where he was — facing what should have been a window — completely still.
As though he had already known exactly where Leader would stop, how he would enter, how long it would take. All of it known to him in advance.
On the table sat the box.
Green glow. Slow pulse. Alive.
Leader looked at the box once — then at Veyrath.
"You called for me," Leader said. Statement. Complaint. Both.
"Yes."
"It was urgent."
"Yes."
Veyrath turned now.
"Then tell me. What happened?" Leader said.
Veyrath looked at him.
And Leader — who had witnessed so much — felt for the first time a specific sensation. One that was different from fear. It was uncertainty. The kind that arrives when you see an expression on someone's face that you have never seen before — and you cannot understand how to interpret it.
Veyrath's expression was blank.
But Leader knew — this expression was announcing something devastating. Something that had not yet finished calculating itself.
"I opened the box," Veyrath said.
Leader froze.
One second.
"When?"
Veyrath's voice carried that flatness which does not hide emotions — which is genuinely occupied processing something else entirely. "The box responded to me. I opened it."
"And —" Veyrath said, his voice rising sharply — "And inside it — there are no files. What we both believed was there — what you have been searching for across years — it is not inside this box. Where are my files?"
"This —"
"— this is not possible. But if the files are not here — then where are they —"
Back on Earth.
"What do we do now?" Riya asked.
Rana had the weapon in his hand. The blue veins were pulsing — steady rhythm — like a heartbeat. The light of the lamp and the blue glow of the weapon were merging in the room — that combination which was wrong. Which should not have existed in this room. Which should not have existed in any ordinary room anywhere.
"We need to go somewhere open — a ground — I don't know what this weapon will do or won't do, and I cannot put anyone else's life at risk now. Not beyond yours." Rana said this to Riya.
Riya understood everything. And so the two of them left without telling anyone — quietly, without a word — and made their way to an empty ground nearby.
"Xyolithian had said —" Rana began — "— the key and the weapon need to connect. That process — that —"
"Fire at me," Riya said simply.
Rana looked at her.
"Riya —"
"The key and the weapon — both point in the same direction. They are the same thing — in two separate places. They need to meet." Riya looked at her own hands — which had been faintly warm since that night. "Fire. Whatever has to happen — will happen."
Rana looked at the weapon.
Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.
He raised it. Aimed — toward Riya — with that specific feeling in the body which comes when you are about to do something that goes against all logic but feels right to the soul —
"I have to do this. I have to —"
"Rana, don't overthink it. Shoot me."
"Riya — she is my sister. How can I —"
"Rana."
She looked at him — not at the weapon — directly into his eyes.
"I am ready."
And then —
Trigger.
What came out was not a beam.
It was a wave. A ripple — like a stone dropped into still water — except this ripple moved through air — it was visible — blue-white — and it traveled toward Riya —
Riya closed her eyes —
The wave hit her —
And —
From somewhere inside Riya —
A massive blast erupted.
Then —
Only silence.
And that place — where Riya had been standing — was empty now.
"Riya —" Rana ran forward, screaming her name.
He was crying now — the kind of crying that comes from somewhere so deep inside that it shakes everything. The kind that does not ask permission.
"Riya — forgive me. The promise I made to you — I couldn't keep it. I couldn't protect you. Riya —" His voice broke completely as he said it.
He could not move anymore. He sat in one place and wept — as though the entire world had ended for him in this moment. And perhaps it had.
That Riya — who was not his real sister by blood — but who had been with him in every moment. In grief. In joy. In every ordinary evening and every impossible night. Now she — she was no longer with him.
"What have I done. I killed Riya."
Then Rana heard something.
"Rana, — what have you done? Why did you do this to Riya?"
"No, Mummy — I didn't want to —"
"But you did it. You took my daughter away from me."
"No, Papa — it wasn't me — it was Xyolithian — he told me to do this — he said it had to be done —"
All of this was running through his mind now. Only in his mind.
Rana could not distinguish reality from what was crumbling inside him. He could not find the boundary between what was real and what his grief was building around him.
Riya's death had finished him from the inside.
Not broken him.
Finished him.
And in that silence — in that empty ground — with the weapon still in his hand and its blue veins still pulsing as though nothing had changed