The garden dimmed into a cold, damp dusk as the last light slipped behind the setting sun. Birds flew toward uncertain shelter, calling to one another as they vanished into the darkening sky. In the grass, crickets pulsed in a metallic rhythm that seemed endless. Prashila stood facing the garden, surrounded by the lingering sounds of evening and the fresh scent of the air.
The phone trembled in her right hand while her other gripped one of the house's pillars for support. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, crushed by the weight in her chest. She had called Yug again and again, but there was still no answer. That had never happened before. What had begun as doubt was now hardening into certainty.
"Calm down, Prashila. You haven't seen anything yet. You're thinking too much," she told herself in a hoarse voice, as if she might break into sobs at any moment.
Slowly, she stepped away from the pillar, but the movement only made the fear inside her feel more real. The last trace of hope faded from her eyes, leaving them blank.
From a distance, the head servant noticed her unsteady state and frowned. Concern tightened in his chest as he quietly followed her.
Prashila stumbled into the living room and dropped onto the couch, her head bowed and her face drained of color. The head servant quickly approached.
"Madam, what happened?"
"Yug is missing."
His expression stiffened at once. For a moment, he said nothing.
"What do you mean he's missing?" he asked at last, forcing his voice to stay steady. "How can you be sure?"
She did not look up. "His phone is dead. That has never happened before. He always carried a backup."
Her voice was low and strained, but the certainty in it silenced his doubt.
The old man drew a breath and straightened.
"Madam, what are we waiting for?" Urgency broke through his voice. "If Yug is in danger, we must act now. Every moment we waste could make things worse."
His heart pounded in his chest, driven by fear and a desperate need to protect Yug before it was too late.
He had no reason to doubt her. Yug had created a nano-battery that could keep a phone running indefinitely, making it nearly impossible for the device to die. But that power came with a flaw—the phone itself would wear out far faster than it normally should.
"What can I do?" she murmured, her voice hollow. "I don't think I'm capable of anything right now. If you can, then please… do something."
She sank deeper into the couch, as though even her body had given up.
"I will. Please excuse me."
He lowered his head respectfully, his hands locked behind his back. After one last look at her, he gave a firm nod and hurried from the room. There was no point in pressing her further. Nothing would matter until Yug was brought back safely.
From the balcony, Shivani watched the entire scene unfold, catching every word carried through the evening air.
Is there something behind this? she wondered, turning away with her hands folded neatly before her. Do I really need to care? Something is about to change, but it has nothing to do with me.
She returned to her room and stopped by the window, gazing at the moon suspended among faint stars. Pale light settled in her eyes, sharpening their cold stillness.
Let's see what happens next.
...
Anaya returned home the next morning and hurried to her mother. Shock ran through her at the sight before her. Prashila had not moved. Her eyes were still open, fixed lifelessly on the ground.
The house was crawling with police. Some moved through the rooms, questioning servants and taking notes, while others worked to trace Yug's whereabouts. Anaya took in the chaos and immediately understood who had driven it all—the head servant. He had pushed himself far past his limits, and now he looked barely able to stand.
As she stood there, struggling to take everything in, hurried footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She turned and saw the old man coming toward her, but there was no relief in his face.
"Miss, we found Sir Yug's last known trace," he said, his voice so faint she almost missed it.
"What? Where is it?" The words burst from her before she could stop them.
"At the end of Yunio Mountain."
Anaya froze. A broken gasp escaped her lips.
She knew Yunio Mountain too well. No one survived there. Hearing its name was no different from hearing a death sentence. A violent shiver ran through her body, and without realizing it, she took a step back.
Then her gaze fell on Shivani, and recognition struck at once. Anaya knew things about her that even those closest to Shivani did not.
"Lady Shivani," she whispered.
Seeing her here felt unreal. Shivani was the miracle child of the Chandravanshi family.
Countless rumors surrounded her, so strange that most people dismissed them rather than dare believe them. Some said she had been born of ice and carried a presence as cold and sharp as shattered glass. Others believed she held the answer to anything one sought from her. Her existence was so unsettling that even the Suryavanshi and Agnivanshi families had once tried to draw her into their own bloodlines, yet neither had succeeded.
"What? Did you call me?" Shivani asked, stepping toward her, her gaze moving over Anaya from head to toe.
Anaya went still. A shudder passed through her, as though cold had slipped into her bones. Shivani's eyes did not merely resemble the moon. They held the same pale distance, the same unnatural stillness.
Gathering what little courage she had left, Anaya forced her trembling lips to move.
"Lady… can… you… tell—"
The words died in her throat.
"Your bracelet is interesting," Shivani said, catching her wrist. The silver-and-gold band, studded with tiny diamonds, glimmered under the light. "So that is how you're able to see me."
The faint interest in her face vanished almost at once, and she released her.
Shivani turned and walked away.
Once a little distance lay between them, Anaya's knees gave out.
"Huff… huff…"
He is still alive. But if you are too late, he will die.
The words struck directly into her mind.
Staring at Shivani's retreating figure through fading vision, Anaya lost consciousness.
...
Blood dripped from Yug's head as he hung upside down, bound by ropes. The place looked like an abandoned factory, its containers standing silent in the dark. A pale light spilled over him, cold and merciless. His eyes were half-closed, blood clinging to his lashes, while his arms hung limp like those of a corpse.
His silence did not come from pain, nor from the damage done to his body. It came from the memories returning to him.
They tore through him from within.
He did not want them back. But the moment the first fragment of his past life surfaced, his silence shattered.
"Ahh… no… I don't… need… it…"
It was not pain that terrified him. It was memory.
Outside, near the ocean, salt hung in the air, and the wind slipped through the maze of containers. Beyond them, the sea murmured against the shore. Yug's cry carried far enough to reach a few of the men standing outside.
"Hah… why is he screaming? We didn't even beat him that badly," one of them said.
"Hahaha, exactly," another replied. "He didn't scream while we were beating him earlier, but now he is. What a loser."
The third man watched in silence, his expression grave. Unlike the others, he found nothing amusing about this.
He still did not understand why they had been ordered to keep Yug alive.
They were contract killers, not kidnappers. This was a murder job. Yet instead of finishing it, they had been told to torture the boy first. Even then, there was a time limit.
"Hm," he muttered, glancing at the other two. "What do you make of this? Why haven't we killed him yet?"
The others turned toward him, cigarettes between their lips. They stared at him for a moment, then laughed.
"Hahaha, what's so strange about it?" one of them said, stepping closer and slapping his shoulder. "This isn't new. Some clients like to watch their target suffer before they die. They can't stand people like him living comfortably."
The other man nodded.
"You should be used to this by now. You've been doing this for years, and you're still inexperienced when it comes to things like this." A grin spread across his face, as though jobs like these genuinely entertained him.
"But he isn't some ordinary target," the serious man said sharply. "Don't you know who he is? He's the youngest son of the Satya Group. People call him a genius—"
Dragging this out made no sense to him. The longer they stayed here, the greater the risk became.
"You're thinking too much. Do you really think anyone will find this place?" the grinning man said. "And besides, our client isn't ordinary either. To him, that kid is nothing."
He spoke with such certainty that the serious man had no answer. His gaze dropped, frustration and shame gathering in his eyes.
The grin on the other man's face widened.
"You need to loosen up."
Reaching behind his back, he pulled out a knife and held it toward him.
"Go on. Gouge out the kid's eyes if you want to relax. He's been quiet for too long, and I'm getting bored. Do it. I want to hear him scream."
"I will."
He took the knife, fixed his eyes on the factory ahead, and started walking toward it.