The Mumbai night wrapped around Kunal like a thin veil as he moved through the dark streets. His hood was pulled low, footsteps silent, every muscle coiled tight with tension.
Each flickering streetlight seemed to pulse too long.
Each distant siren felt closer than it should, making his tension rise. His back was already wet with all the sweat.
He moved quickly, quietly, the city he once knew now a blurred, painting a hostile picture around him.
Focus Kunal.
Stick to the plan.
It's your decision and you have to see the end of it now.
He inhaled, the scent of damp concrete and salt heavy in his lungs as he came closer to the sea. Pavement cracks. Broken reflections in puddles.
Stay alert.
Be on your toes.
Abhishek's voice echoed in his mind, going through all the routes, timings, fail-safes again and again which have been drilled into him like some battle instructions.
But no plan could silence the nervousness within him.
Visions kept playing behind his eyes:
— The hooded whisperer and his raspy voice.
— The monk and the floating woman that night.
— Kunala's agony under the irons.
— The heavy pull of the ancient throne that wasn't Mauryan, which didn't even look human in its aura.
And now...these cryptic messages sent to him like they are watching his every moment through a one-way mirror at it's other side.
Were these all pieces of the same game? Or different hunters rounding the same prey?
He was already missing his smoke and Ananya.
He forced himself to reach inside, with the hope of getting as much courage and strength as he could get because now this road has no U-turn.
Combat Awareness.
Tactical Alert.
Fleeting Thought.
Whatever he could get, he was trying to scrape them altogether.
The memories stirred... but faint, blurred, like static signals of a television.
But it was enough to sense the dread of this night.
Which was sufficient for his legs to feel like a gel.
---
The abandoned jetty was a crumbling piece of concrete, hidden behind deserted warehouses.
Exactly where Abhishek said it would be.
Kunal checked the time on his burner: two minutes early.
The water crashed quietly against rusted moorings.
A low cough sounded nearby.
Instinctively, Kunal's trembling hands slipped to the polymer blade hidden inside his jacket.
From the shadows, a short, wiry figure stepped out, he was the fisherman Abhishek had arranged.
A quiet exchange of meaningless, prearranged phrases, which confirmed their identities.
No names. No trust.
Only money and the purpose.
Minutes later, they slipped into the dark water, the battered fishing vessel moved almost without a sound.
Mumbai's skyline receded, overhead, a bleeding constellation swallowed by the horizon.
Kunal leaned near the bow, feeling the salt spray cool against his face.
The further he moved from the city, the sharper the pull inside him grew.
As if it was awakening with each passing moment calming him while he was getting closer to the perceived danger.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Kunala.
The name resonated with him.
Not just a memory. Not just a role.
A fracture line running across lives, linking memories, emotions, betrayals, vengeance... and something unknown deep and still.
The shadow of the ancient throne pulsed faintly at the corner of his mind, the mysterious symbols whispering in languages forgotten in the annals of time.
He gripped the polymer knife with his tense hands tucked inside his jacket, feeling its chill anchor him.
---
The boat's engine dropped to a whisper.
Ahead, Elephanta Island rose like a dark beast against the faint glow of the overcast sky.
No lights.
No signs of life.
Only the heavy presence of old stones and older memories.
The boatman steered them to a rocky cove on the western side — far from the tourist docks.
"Four hours," he grunted in a low voice. "No more. If you don't return, you are on your own."
Kunal nodded silently.
He checked the burner — 8:53 PM.
The moment was here.
He slung the go-bag tighter, slipped the polymer blade into easy reach, and stepped off onto the slick rocks, boots finding their footing among the seaweed-slick stones.
Behind him, the boat vanished like smoke in the dark, swallowed by the black water.
Kunal stood alone on the broken shoreline.
The night air wrapped around him — humid, electric, waiting.
He glanced up at the cloud-cloaked sky.
Hidden above those layers of mist and smog, he could feel it — the twin red stars pulsing like silent watchers. He always felt a deep connection with them. His visions started when he saw that star while stargazing while smoking a month ago. At that time he felt that it's all because of his work stress but he couldn't be more wrong there.
Breathing slow and deep, stabilizing his shallow breaths, he stepped forward into the night.
Each step was a hammer-blow in the stillness.
Each heartbeat an echo against the silent stones.
The caves lay ahead — sleeping titans carved into the heart of the island, their mouths gaping in the night.
And something was waiting for him inside.
Not just enemies.
Not just hidden patrons.
Not just answers.
A reality he was bound to ages ago — without knowing.
To be continued…