The morning had begun as any other still, humble, the sky a canvas of soft colors at dawn. A gentle wind swept through the mountain of woods, sharing secrets with the trees.
But for Aadya, nothing today seemed normal. She and her mother were walking towards the top of Vaishno Devi shrine after a backbreaking two-day ascent.
Her mother had trodden every step barefoot, not out of ritual, but passion untamed, unwavering passion.
It was not a pilgrimage. It was a vow.
Her mother explained to her that if she climbed the whole mountain barefoot, fasting and without resting, the goddess Vaishno Devi would grant her a son.
Aadya trailed a few paces behind, worry etched on her face. Her mother's feet were blistered and bleeding. Her lips parched. She had not eaten more than a single meal in the past forty-eight hours. Her eyes, though—those keen, set eyes—refused to give way.
"Mom," Aadya said at last, her voice taut as she struggled to keep up. "Is this actually a good idea? Your feet… they're bleeding. You've hardly eaten. You haven't even slept. Please, let's just rest for ten minutes."
Her mother did not stop. Her strides continued strong, unbroken.
"Kids these days," she exclaimed with a little, gasping laugh, "can't even walk up a mountain barefoot. I didn't raise a child to be weak."
Aadya's face scrunched up in a scowl. She was hurt. "I'm not weak. I'm an SSS-rank hunter. I can destroy a small nation if I want to. This mountain means nothing."
"Then quit complaining," her mother said bluntly, the smallest smile playing on the edge of her cracked lips.
The hours ticked by in silence. The mountain steepened, but the top was finally visible. At last, they stood before the ancient idol of Vaishno Devi, nestled within the cave temple high above the clouds. The atmosphere surrounding the shrine was different—thicker, charged with something other than oxygen. Devotion clung to the walls like mist, heavy with centuries of prayer.
Her mother knelt down slowly before the goddess, her breath weak, her legs shaking, but her stance firm. Aadya stood next to her, arms folded, observing.
"I have come to request one thing," her mother whispered, eyes clenched tightly. "Please… give me a son. That is all I desire."
When she bowed down, forehead touching the stone, something unusual started to occur.
The sky beyond, which had been darkening with the oncoming dusk, blazed alive.
The stars emerged one after another—not incrementally, as they normally would, but en masse, as if called up. It seemed as if the universe itself had bent forward, gazing down upon this moment on Earth with interest. The stars weren't static—they sparkled like a river in motion above them, throbbing with a beat that made Aadya's flesh shiver in wonder.
"What…?" Aadya whispered.
Then, from the idol of the goddess, something began to drift downward.
A single feather.
But this was no ordinary feather—it was a shade she had never seen before, so black it devoured the very light around it. Phantom Black. A black so dark, so complete, that even in the stars' light, it gave back nothing. It drifted slowly, slowly, spinning through the air as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Aadya's heart thudded. She leaned forward involuntarily to touch it, fate heavy in her own chest. Her mother's eyes widened in awe as she leaned forward to join her, both of them hesitantly outstretched hands.
But before their hands could touch—
it was gone.
Disappeared. As if it had never existed.
The stars grew dark in response, extinguishing as abruptly as they had appeared. The ensuing silence was profounder than it had been, unnatural. The mountain waited.
Aadya stood immobile. "Did you… did you see that?"
Her mother did not answer at first. She was looking at the empty space where the feather had been, lips shaking.
"I saw it," she finally whispered, voice cracked and raw with emotion. "The goddess heard me. That feather… it was a sign."
"But it vanished."
"She gave me her response," her mother said, eyes watering. "And I accept it."
Aadya said nothing. Her eyes drifted upward. The stars were gone now, consumed by clouds. But something about the moment refused to leave her. Something had shifted.
She had no idea what, but the mountain was no longer the same.