The streets were burning with sound.
Not fire, not warplanes—just the chaos of humans running from humans.
Parth didn't look back once. His mother's voice echoed in his ears—
> "Run right now. Or you will never return to us alive."
So he did.
Barefoot, breathless, heart hammering.
Every corner he turned, there were people being dragged out of houses. Screams, protests, soldiers shouting orders. The government's announcement was already spreading—
> "All men and women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five will report for mandatory service."
"Those who resist will be detained immediately."
He didn't stop running until the city's noise faded behind him.
---
By noon, he reached the edge of town.
An old, half-demolished bungalow stood there—abandoned, its gates creaking in the wind. People were already gathered inside, hiding, whispering, praying.
Their faces were pale. Some were bleeding, some shaking. Most were too afraid to speak.
And among them—
A familiar voice.
> "Parth!"
Aarav.
Parth turned and saw them — Aarav, Neel, Meera, Avni… and Sia.
They were all there. All safe.
Aarav's relief was almost childish.
> "You managed to run away too, bro!"
He grinned despite the exhaustion. Avni was beside him, wrapping a bandage around his hand. Neel sat near Meera, quietly trying to calm her down. And Sia—
Sia stood apart, facing the cracked wall, arms crossed. She didn't look at Parth, but he could feel her heartbeat in the silence between them.
Parth smiled sadly. Even now, she refused to meet his eyes.
Before he could speak, Aarav suddenly froze mid-sentence. His pupils dilated, lips trembling.
> "Sah… aahvayati…"
Meera blinked. "What?"
Neel turned sharply. "He's calling."
Avni frowned. "Who?"
Neel didn't answer. His eyes met Parth's—calm, knowing, heavy.
> "I drew a throne last night," Neel said quietly. "I don't even remember why."
Parth's blood turned cold. The throne. The voice in his dream.
What was happening to them?
---
The answer came in the worst way.
From outside the cracked windows came the voice of a middle-aged man—hoarse, desperate.
> "There they are! A bunch of young men and women! Now please—please leave my son alone as you promised! Take them!"
The group froze.
For a moment, no one spoke. Even Parth couldn't move.
He didn't hate the man. Not really. Maybe in another world, he would have done the same. But he was not so sure,what the rest of the people thought of that cruel,helpless father. Some might have turned him into their sole enemy already,because of his heartless betrayal.
But now—
The sound of boots.
The thud of rifles against doors.
Footsteps climbing the stairs.
Panic erupted.
People scattered like trapped birds, running into rooms, slamming doors, crying. The air filled with screams and the heavy pound of fists against wood.
The six of them didn't move.
Parth, Aarav, Neel, Meera, Avni, and Sia stood still as the soldiers burst through the main door.
They didn't resist. They were led down to the living room on the ground floor and told to sit.
Sia's hand brushed against Parth's by accident. For a moment, it steadied him.
Then came the chaos.
From upstairs—
Screams. Begging. The sound of people being dragged.
The soldiers with them left to help, leaving only one behind.
Parth stood slowly.
But Aarav was faster.
He stepped forward, clenched his fist, and punched the soldier square in the jaw.
The man dropped instantly.
Aarav whispered, breathless, "Sorry."
Parth couldn't help but smile, even in this madness.
> Undoubtedly Sahadev…
They needed to move. Fast. They all started to find any safe place to hide.
---
> "This way," Sia's voice came from the farthest corner of the room.
They turned. She was standing by an old wooden door, half-hidden by torn curtains.
> "This house has a basement," she said. "The stairs go down. It might be dark, maybe snakes—but outside isn't safe either."
No one argued.
They ran to her, closing the door behind them, and began descending one by one.
The air grew colder, thick with dust and the faint smell of earth.
None of them spoke.
Their footsteps were the only sound.
And behind them—
the door creaked shut on its own.
---
Minutes later, the soldiers returned with the others. The leader barked orders.
> "Search every corner! They must be hiding somewhere!"
They searched every room, shouting, overturning furniture.
Finally, a soldier from the farthest corner called out, gripping a doorknob.
> "We checked all rooms, sir! There's no basement in this house either!"
Silence followed.
A strange, hollow silence.
And deep below, in the dark, six breaths steadied together—waiting, unseen.
---
Author's Note:
> Sometimes, survival itself is proof of something divine.
Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was protection.
Or maybe… the ones who remember their pasts were never meant to die so easily.
—Your author