The camera follows Varun Saha, walking through the bustling streets of Delhi's old city. He wears a simple coat, blending seamlessly with the crowd. His destination an old cafe, tucked away in a narrow lane.
Varun enters and takes a seat at a small corner table. A young server approaches him, wiping his hands on a towel.
Server:
Welcome, sir. What will you have today?
Varun (calmly):
I'm fasting. My dharma only allows me to eat in the evening, so I'll just have water for now.
The server's expression shifts subtly, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. He nods.
Server:
Yes, sir. I'll be right back with your order.
The server heads to the kitchen, then quietly slips into the storage room. Inside, an old telegraph machine sits in a corner, dusted but functional. He quickly taps out a morse code message:
The master has returned.
The telegraph clicks and hums as the message spreads to the network.
The server returns with a glass of water, setting it on the table with a polite smile.
Server (softly):
Everyone in Dharma shall follow the fasting.
Varun nods, satisfied, and places a coin on the table as payment. He drinks the water, rising from his seat .As Varun steps out of the cafe, a group of men and women—some young, some middle-aged, others old—emerge from the shadows of nearby alleys. They fall into step with him.
Man 1:
Boss, shall we head to the fort now?
Varun (firmly):
Not yet. If we're going to welcome the master back, it must be worthy of his name. Spread out and gather everything we'll need for a proper celebration.
The group disperses, their movements quick and efficient, disappearing into the city's labyrinthine streets. Varun watches them go, a small smile of determination on his face.
The scene transitions back to the fort, focuses on Aditya, sleeves rolled up, pushing a broom through the dusty main hall. He stops by the round table, wiping its surface with a cloth as a faint layer of the table's original shine peeks through.
Aditya (to himself):
Grandfather must've spent hours here, planning, leading... I hope I can live up to this.
He glances at the Commander chair, his expression a mix of determination and apprehension before returning to work. In the library, Ashvin's clones are everywhere—dusting shelves, repairing books. The once-cluttered and grimy space now gleams as the clones work tirelessly.
Ashvin himself is sitting cross-legged on the floor, leafing through an old tome. He glances at his clones working in the nearby resting quarters, where beds are being fixed and linens dusted off.
Ashvin (smirking):
Maybe I should've made more clones. These guys are efficient.
Outside, Shivam is unloading heavy equipment and machinery from the VTOL, carrying enormous crates on his broad shoulders. Harshit, standing nearby, watches with a mischievous grin.
Harshit:
Careful, Shivam. With all that grunting, someone might mistake you for an actual gorilla.
Shivam (grunting):
Ha-ha, very funny. Why don't you come here and carry one of these yourself? Oh wait, your suit doesn't lift heavy stuff, does it?
Harshit (pretending to think):
Why lift when I've got you? You're like the perfect forklift—big, loud, and easy to use.
Shivam:
Say that again, I dare you.
Harshit laughs as he moves to the lab, leaving Shivam muttering under his breath as he hoists another crate.
Inside, Ajay is guiding a group of monks through the castle, pointing out areas that need repair.
Ajay:
We'll need to reinforce the west wing. The walls are barely holding together. And see that crack in the tower? Get some scaffolding up there before it collapses. Let's focus on getting the essentials operational first.
In the kitchen, Rashi is leading a team of monks to restore the long-unused space.
Rashi (clapping her hands):
Alright, people! Let's get those stoves fired up. We're feeding an army tonight—literally.
One of the monks hesitates with a large pot, and Rashi quickly steps in to help.
Rashi (smiling):
Don't worry, I've got it. Just follow my lead.
Her natural leadership and composed demeanor inspire the workers, who redouble their efforts.
As the evening sets in, Aditya steps outside, wiping sweat from his brow after hours of work. He finds Steve sitting on a stone bench near the gate, sipping water from a flask.
Aditya (sitting beside him):
Hard day's work, huh?
Steve (grinning):
Yeah, but it feels good. This place... it's starting to look alive again.
They sit in silence for a moment, the distant hum of activity from the fort filling the air. The faint glow of sunset bathes the courtyard in warm light.
The quiet moment is interrupted by the distant roar of engines. Varun Saha returns, leading a convoy of bikes and jeeps into the courtyard. The vehicles, loaded with supplies, come to a halt as ISS loyalists—men and women of all ages—step out, saluting in perfect unison.
Varun dismounts his bike, walking toward Aditya. He removes his helmet, revealing a face alight with pride and emotion. He kneels in front of Aditya, bowing deeply.
Varun Saha (voice trembling):
My master, the whole ISS is at your service.
Behind Varun, the loyalists murmur amongst themselves, their eyes fixed on Aditya. For a moment, they see not just the young man but the shadow of Dharma Pratap standing tall behind him.
As the convoy unloads, Ajay begins rummaging through the items in one of the jeeps. He pulls out old mechanical components, inspecting them closely.
Ajay (excited):
I can use these parts to turn those machines. Finally!
Varun claps his hands, gathering everyone's attention.
Varun Saha:
Today, we celebrate. This is the first night in twenty years that the ISS breathes freely under a banner of hope. Let this be a night to remember—the night we began our journey back to glory!
Cheers erupt from the gathered loyalists and Sovereigns as preparations for the celebration begin.
As the party swings into full gear, with laughter and music echoing through the fort, Aditya steps away to a quiet corner of the courtyard. He gazes up at the star-filled sky, the weight of his newfound responsibilities pressing on him.
The camera lingers on his thoughtful expression as the voices of his friends and comrades fill the background, a poignant contrast to the silent stars above.
Aditya (to himself):
Grandfather... I hope I'm making you proud.