Time: ~5:30 PM IST, 2100Location: Mithila, Bihar
The Jungle spat them out like chewed bones
Bloodied bruised, and covered in glowing vine muck , the crew staggered into the outskirts of Mitila. The skies above turned saffron and gold , as if the gods themselves were watching. Faint temple bells chimed in the distance, and warm smoke curled up from clay chimneys . It smelled like tumeric, woodfire, and home.
Mythili stood still. Her shoulders loosened for the first time since their journey began.
A group of villagers gathered,
murmuring. A small child ran forward, squealing, "Didi Mythili!" Moments later, they were surrounded—welcomed.
A grey-haired woman emerged from the crowd, draped in a faded red sari. Her eyes sparkled with quiet power. "You brought the storm with you, child," she said, touching Mythili's face. "And now you bring fire."
Captain Raghu watched in silence. His knife was still in his hand. The tension of war didn't leave just because a few incense sticks burned.
"Relax, Captain Grump," Myra muttered beside him. "These are humans, not vines."
"I don't trust anything that doesn't bleed when I cut it," Raghu replied.
Chitti beeped in mock fear, "Ayo! Someone hide the cutting board—Captain turned butcher ra!"
The villagers offered them a space under a flowering neem tree. A few women brought food—simple dal, puffed rice, and thick rotis soaked in mustard oil.
Pinkki pounced on the spread. "My masalas are crying with joy!" she exclaimed, stuffing her face.
Vishnu sat across from her, chewing slowly. "Even I'm in love right now."
"With the roti?" she snorted.
"With you, Pinkki," he said seriously.
Pinkki blinked. He was never that direct.
"Eat your food before I make you chutney," she said, but her cheeks had flushed redder than the tamarind pickle.
Meanwhile, Hanush sat quietly, watching the children of the village giggle at Chitti's failed attempts to dance. His eyes had dulled again—no glow, no anger. Just a quiet sadness that never quite left him.
Raghu noticed. He walked over. "You okay?"
Hanush nodded. Then, softly, "They laugh. I forgot what that sounds like."
Raghu sat beside him. "Sometimes... we forget too long."
In the background, Myra found Mythili sitting with the elder, who handed her something wrapped in ancient silk. A shard of an artifact—golden, pulsing faintly, engraved in forgotten script.
"What is it?" Myra asked.
"The second shard of the Arc," the elder said, eyes narrowing. "The nectar of Amrit flows through bloodlines... but also through sacrifice. You cannot take it without giving something first."
Myra felt a chill ripple down her spine. "What kind of sacrifice?"
The elder didn't answer.
Instead, she turned to Raghu and handed him a small vial of bright red liquid. "For your pain," she said. "Physical and otherwise."
Raghu took it with a nod. His eyes met Myra's over the firelight. Neither of them smiled. They didn't need to. Something quieter passed between them—trust, slowly blooming like a wound healing from the inside.
Later that night, beneath the neem tree, Myra found Raghu sharpening his blade. "You never stop preparing, do you?"
He glanced at her. "You never stop asking questions."
She sat beside him. "Because I want answers."
"To what?"
She hesitated. "Why did you save me… back there, in the jungle? You took the hit. You didn't even think."
He didn't look at her. "You're the mission."
"Bullshit."
He sighed. "Because I couldn't let another person die. Not like him."
Myra leaned closer. "Your brother."
Raghu didn't flinch. "He was obsessed with relics. Said the Amrit could change everything. One day, he vanished into the Himalayas with a cursed scroll. I found what was left of him months later… bones, frostbite, and a whisper."
"A whisper?"
He looked at her now, eyes unreadable. "He said, 'The Arc doesn't just restore. It remembers.'"
Silence fell between them.
Chitti suddenly rolled into their circle, holding a steaming bowl.
"Romance time over ra! Naa spice-upgrade finally finished!" it beamed.
"What spice upgrade?" Myra asked, wary.
"I added mithila herbs to my masala cannon. One sprinkle, full-body recharge!" Chitti spun, misfiring the powder—right into Vishnu's face.
He screamed. "My eyes! I see my past lives!!"
Pinkki cackled. "Finally! You see what your cooking does to people!"
Everyone laughed—even Raghu. For the first time, it wasn't hollow.
But as laughter echoed into the night, a figure watched from the edge of the village—eyes glowing faint green, hidden beneath a monk's cloak.
A voice crackled through a hidden communicator."Zerum, the second shard is in play. What are your orders?"Zerum smiled coldly."Let them feel safe. Then remind them... the Amrit demands more than courage."