The sharp, multi-toned chime kept ringing repeatedly. High-pitched. Insistent. Impossible to ignore.
It cut through the haze of blood and smoke still clinging to Kunal's mind.
His eyes snapped open. He jolted upright in his office chair, heart slamming against his chest like it was trying to break free from the frame.
Cold sweat soaked his shirt. His chest heaved with shallow, painful breaths. Phantom pain flared—like fire where his right arm should be, a spear through his chest, a blinding burn behind his eyes. He blinked fast, disoriented.
Where—?
The glow of two monitors punched into his vision—bright white text, sterile corporate design. The roar of battle was gone. Replaced by the low hum of air conditioning and the faint smell of burnt coffee. He was at his work desk in his office. Back at OmniCorp Innovations.
Today he and his team were working late. Very late.
On the right screen, a flashing message:
Microsoft Teams – Scheduled Meeting – Project Nightingale Update – 8:00 PM
The clock said 8:03.
He'd fallen asleep again. The dream—
No. Not a dream. It felt like something real. Like he has seen, experienced and live it himself. It felt really bizzare.
His hands shook as he reached for his water bottle. The cap slipped once, then came off. He drank fast, too fast, and started coughing—sharp, brutal hacks that buckled him. Water splattered the keyboard and his shirt. He struggled to take a breathe.
The cheerful bing of the Teams notification kept chiming in the background like a constant reminder of his reality.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
He stared at the blinking alert, mind still spinning. He was still out of it.
A voice broke through the noise.
"Kunal? What happened to you? Are you okay?"
He looked up. Ananya stood beside his desk, eyes wide open with concern. She was his teammate—same floor, few seats down. More than a teammate or colleague she was his good friend.
"Ananya," he croaked.
"You okay? You look... awful. Like you have just run a marathon."
He tried to answer, but his voice cracked. "Just... the dream."
She glanced at his screen, then back at him. "You missed the meeting. Business head's call. We planned to discuss Nightingale launch strategy."
Kunal didn't move. He didn't know how to react.
"You can't join like this," she said, gently but firm. "You're pale. You're shaking. Hell! Even your breathing is ragged. You're clearly now well."
Before he could argue, she leaned toward her own headset nearby, muting it.
"Guys," she said into her mic, "Kunal's not joining. He's not well. Like... really not well."
She paused, listening. "Yeah. Abhishek, can you...? Mr. Verma, Kunal needs to head home. Possibly see someone. He's in bad shape."
Kunal could hear faint voices from her headset. Questions. Suggestions. Agreement.
Ananya turned back to him. "You're off for the rest of the week. Mr. Verma was very clear. Three or four days minimum. He asked me and Abhishek to make sure you get home safely. Or to a clinic. And he has sternly warned you to not come to office within a week. He knows your work ethic but he is also concerned about your well-being."
Kunal waved a hand. "No hospital, Please! I just need to get some rest and sleep and I will be fine."
A familiar voice piped up nearby. "You sure? You look like you wrestled a Rakshasa."
Abhishek.
He walked over, grinning, but his eyes were serious. "This bad all day, or just now?"
"Got worse just now," Ananya said.
Kunal forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled.
"I'm fine. Really. Let's go."
They offered to call a cab. He refused. Said the walk would help.
The three of them exited the OmniCorp building into the warm Mumbai night. The air smelled of exhaust, dreams, and seawater. Traffic buzzed in the distance. Streetlights flickered overhead.
They walked quietly for a while. Then Abhishek started chatting, trying to lighten the mood. Ananya joined in walking a little bit closer to Kunal while eyeing him. Kunal stayed quiet. His mind kept replaying the battle—flashes of blood, screams, a severed head, a boy's mangled body. The weight and taste of a sword clenched in his jaw. The sound of arrows.
He couldn't shake it. He couldn't forget the brutality he saw there. It was sickening him up to the core.
Then something shifted.
A whisper. Soft. Dry. Almost like wind across old paper.
He stopped walking.
Ananya and Abhishek didn't notice at first.
"Kunal?" Abhishek asked.
Kunal's eyes were locked on a dark alley ahead. The shadows there looked wrong. Too deep. Like the light couldn't touch them.
Inside the dark, something moved.
A shape. Cloaked. Hooded. Still.
It didn't look like a person. It looked like a hole in the world. A patch of nothing, standing upright. Looking straight at him.
Kunal squinted. The light around it seemed to bend. Fade. Like reality didn't want to look at it.
"Did you guys see—" he started, pointing.
Before they could respond, another whisper came. This time clearly to his ears, it cut through the noise of the city like a knife. The voice was ancient. Dry. And he understood it.
Kunala.
The name wasn't spoken. It was delivered—directly into the core of him.
The destiny has found you. They are closing up on you. Accept it. Or else things will fall apart. Again!
The words hit like a blow. His knees gave away. The sky spun. His friends' voices turned to noise, distant and meaningless. He felt like he is falling in nothingness.
As he collapsed to the pavement, something overhead caught his eye—just for a second. A red point of light, high above the buildings.
A star.
It pulsed, once. Twice. Like it was watching over him.
And then everything went black.
To be continued...