The two figures slipped out into the night—quiet, unnoticed.
Before leaving the rooftop, Gorgo turned back and snapped his fingers with a casual flick of his right hand.
SNAP.
Shadows swirled and swallowed their traces whole. No footprints. No sound. Not a hint left behind.
They walked side by side down the dim road, streetlights buzzing faintly above them like tired sentinels.
Bzzzt... Bzzzt... click.
Flickers of dying light. Neither said a word. The silence between them wasn't hostile… but it was heavy.
Eventually, they found a cold metal bench in a nearby park, under a tree bare of leaves. They sat there. The night air crept in, whistling between empty branches, threading through their clothes like a ghost's touch.
Whoooosh... crkkk... rustle...
They didn't complain.They didn't speak.
Somewhere in that silence, under the pale glow of a flickering lamp and the soft hum of faraway city breath, Dhruv's breathing slowed.
And his mind… fell.
THUD.
He hit the ground running—no, stumbling—into a dream that didn't feel like one.
A desert stretched endlessly before him.
But it wasn't golden or still.It groaned—like a wounded animal too big to see.The earth was cracked, dry as bone, and the wind blew whooooshh! with crimson dust that bit into his skin.
The sky above was a sheet of rusted metal.Heavy. Oppressive.Clouds churned like they were alive but too tired to cry.The air was dry enough to slice a throat open with a breath.No sun. No shade. No escape.
And in the middle of it—BOOM!
A roar split the sky.
RRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
A lion. Massive. Battered. Glorious even in ruin.
Its fur was streaked in blood, fresh and dried, its chest heaving like a war drum.Thump… thump… THUMP.Each breath it took sounded like defiance.
One eye was swollen shut. A ragged gash crossed its face. Its ribs peeked through ragged flesh. Still, it stood—paws planted firm, claws digging into scorched earth.
Then—
Chkkk… hheheh… hihihihiii… KREEEE!!!
The hyenas came.
Dozens first.
Then hundreds.
Then more.
They didn't bark. They cackled.
A hideous laughter that echoed across the dead land like a broken radio stuck on madness. Their eyes glowed. Their mouths foamed. Their claws scratched the ground with SCRRRCHHH as they circled.
Behind the lion—huddled, trembling—was a boy.
No older than seven.
His knees were scraped. His palms were filthy.His tears made tiny patter patter sounds as they hit the sand beneath him.He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Just soft, cracked whimpers—
"G-Grandma… Grandma… please… please…"
But no one came.
Only the lion.
GRRRRRHHH...
The lion snarled, low and guttural. Its tail flicked like a whip.One hyena pounced—SNAP!—but the lion lunged and tore into it with a sickening CRUNCH!
Another leapt.
THUD!
The lion slammed it into the ground, bones cracking like brittle wood. Blood sprayed.
SPLAT.
But more came.
More laughter. More crawling, scratching, snapping.The sound was everywhere—YEEHEHEHEEE!—madness laughing in a hundred mouths.
The boy just cried. Not screaming. Just silent, helpless tears. Drip... drip... drip...
Another hyena leapt.
WHOOSH—!
ROOOOOAAAAARRRRRR!!!
The lion exploded into motion, claws slashing air, teeth meeting fur and flesh.
CHOMP.
A skull cracked.
The lion spun—WHAM!—throwing its attacker aside. Another bit into its leg. Another climbed its back.
RIP—! Flesh tore.
Still it stood. Bleeding.Shaking.Alive.
Then—
SKREEEEEEE—!!!
A single hyena—fangs bared—charged the boy.
The lion saw.
BANG—!!
It threw itself over the child, intercepting the strike. The hyena screeched as claws met bone. The lion crushed it with a final, savage slam that echoed across the emptiness.
And still...
The hyenas came.
The lion's breath came in shuddering gasps.
The boy could only cry. Silent. Frozen. Watching.
And above them, the storm rumbled—GRRRRRRRMMMBBLLL—but never broke.
The desert never ended.
And the monsters never stopped.
A flash of white.
A shriek.
SNARL.
The hyena leapt—its jaw wide open, teeth like jagged shards of bone flying straight toward him—
"GAAHH!"
Dhruv's eyes snapped open. His body jolted upright on the park bench, his breath ragged and wild.
Huff... huff...
His chest rose and fell rapidly as cold sweat slid down his neck. His shirt clung to his skin. He sat there frozen, trying to separate the nightmare from the world around him. Drip. A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead and hit the bench with a tiny sound.
He slowly brought his trembling hands to his face.
"Just... a dream," he muttered under his breath, voice cracking.
The world was calm—too calm. Morning had only just touched the sky.
The distant coo-coo of pigeons echoed from a rooftop nearby. A few early birds chirped in staccato rhythms: chirp-chirp... trill... tweet! The air was cool, brushing past his skin with a soft whoosh, rustling the trees beside him in a whispery shhh-shhh.
Dhruv reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out his old pocket watch. Click. The lid sprang open.
7:00 AM.
He exhaled deeply. Haaaah.
Not many people were out yet. The roads were quiet except for the occasional clack-clack of a distant bicycle or the soft vroom of a lone scooter passing by.
Then he saw it—a small tea stall on the far side of the road. Weather-worn, with peeling paint and a faded red canopy that flapped gently in the breeze. Behind it stood an old man, stooped and wrinkled, probably in his sixties. He stood still, brushing something off the counter with a swish of his hand, waiting—just waiting—for someone to show up.
Dhruv got up with a tired creak of the bench beneath him and walked across the road. His shoes scraped against the concrete with each step.
He approached the stall and muttered hoarsely, "Hey dadu... do you have a cigarette and a lighter?"
The old man gave him a long, unreadable look. Not disapproving way.
Without a word, he bent down with a clink-clink of glass jars and packets and pulled out a small pack of cigarettes and a plastic lighter. Dhruv handed him some crumpled notes—rustle, crinkle—and took the items.
Flick. Flick.
The lighter sparked. The flame danced for a second before catching on the cigarette's end.
Sssss... crackle.
He inhaled.
Hhhhkk...Then exhaled.
Phew...
The smoke curled upward into the blue morning air, twisting like a ghost before vanishing.
For a moment, Dhruv just stood there in silence, cigarette between his fingers, the morning sun slowly warming his face, the taste of ash and calm on his tongue.
After taking a slow drag — fsssshh — from his cigarette, Gorgo stirred awake. His eyes landed on Dhruv, standing quietly by the tea stall across the road. Neither of them said a word.
Tap-tap-tap. Gorgo's shoes clicked softly against the asphalt as he crossed the street in silence.
Dhruv took one last pull — crkk-hsshh — then flicked the cigarette away. Tsskk. The ember hissed as it hit the damp pavement. Without a glance, he began to walk.
Crunch… crunch… Gorgo followed, his footsteps trailing behind Dhruv's like a reluctant shadow.
Then—Dhruv stopped.Mid-step, like his legs had given out under the weight of something inside. Gorgo stopped too, a few feet ahead, looking over his shoulder.
Dhruv sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice came out quieter than usual, but sincere.
"Haaa... I'm sorry, Gorgo. I shouldn't have talked to you like that last night."
He didn't wait for a reply.
"I know you gave up a lot to help me. Your time with your girl. And maybe I'm being selfish. But my past—there are things I just can't talk about that to you yet. I'm sorry."
Gorgo didn't say anything at first. Then, with a casual flick, he tossed something at Dhruv. Dhruv caught it, instinctively.
He looked down at his hand.
A motorcycle key.
Dangling from it—a tiny metal skull keychain, old and worn.
"Isn't this… is your bike key?" Dhruv asked, genuinely confused.
"Yeah," Gorgo said, shrugging. "It's pretty damn precious to me, okay? Don't scratch it."
Dhruv blinked. "Then… why are you giving it to me?"
Gorgo gave him a look—one part serious, one part smirking.
"Because... to tell you the truth I don't know why am I giving this to you myself ahaha! It is just that I am getting this feeling that I should trust you for once..."
He stepped forward, slapped a hand on Dhruv's shoulder.
"So you should also trust me like I do, partner. Don't make me regret it my decision, And when you finally feel like telling me about your past and yourself tell me then I will be waiting. But atleast tell me what happened in the Godly realm before you met us. I think it is my right.. Right???"
And for the first time in a while, the silence between them didn't feel heavy.
It felt earned.
Dhruv took a long, deep breath — fwoooosh — letting the air fill his lungs before slowly exhaling. He looked at Gorgo, that open, trusting face staring back at him, and realized he couldn't run that innocent face from forever. There was a faint thud-thud in his chest as he summoned every shred of courage left inside. Then, he spoke up.
He told Gorgo everything.
The blinding white silence of Vaikuntha. The mysterious man in the crisp suit who sat like he owned the sky. The way his voice echoed — drip... drip... drip — like time melting in eternity. The cryptic warnings. The heavy feeling in his chest like the universe was sitting there, waiting.
And the girl.
The girl whose voice cracked in pain. The one who kept calling his name as she lay on that cold bed, her breaths shallow and scattered — huhh... huhh... huhh — until the silence took her too.
Dhruv's voice trembled as he spoke, but he didn't stop. Not this time.
He told Gorgo everything.
He felt lighter after that.
Gorgo's mind crackled like static. He staggered back a step, blinking hard, trying to piece it all together. His voice came out in a half-growl, half-yelp — loud, disbelieving.
"What the fuck do you mean all this happened?!"
There was a pause — a heavy, ringing clang of disbelief echoing in the air between them. Gorgo ran his fingers through his hair, pacing in a slow, jerky circle. Then he spat out, voice racing ahead of his thoughts:
"But—according to my knowledge—the Supreme Lord and his wife aren't even in Vaikuntha! They're up in Mount Kailash with Mother Parvati, preparing for some ancient festival! Even Sheshanaga and Garuda have gone with him! So who the hell did you meet there?! No one… no one can trespass into Vaikuntha without the Lord knowing. That's impossible!"
Boom.
Dhruv felt the words hit him like a thunderclap to the skull. His ears rang — rrrrrring — and a wave of nausea coiled in his stomach. What Gorgo had said… didn't make sense.
Yet something else did.
Dhruv stared at the dusty ground, his thoughts spiraling. His voice, when it finally came, was a whisper, almost drowned in the noise of the wind.
"Then… who was he?"
His fingers trembled at his side. A slow, haunted blink.
"Why… why did he look familiar? Like I'd known him forever. Like I was talking to an old friend..."
Thump-thump.
His heart echoed the question louder than anything else now.
Why?
-TO BE CONTINUED