When they reached the medical room, Ayaan saw Anya lying motionless on one of the beds.
Strange machines surrounded her, each one humming and beeping in quiet rhythm, tracking her heartbeat and vital signs. An oxygen mask covered her face.
She was alive… but unconscious.
Ayaan just stood there, staring at her. His eyes were heavy with guilt—an unspoken storm of regret swirling inside him.
Softly, he whispered, "Nyra?"
"Yes, Ayaan?" she replied, turning toward him.
"I want to talk to my sister," he said, his voice quiet and strained. "Could you… give us a moment?"
Nyra understood instantly.
"Of course, Ayaan," she replied gently, her tone calm and respectful.
And with that, she turned and quietly stepped out of the room, leaving him alone with Anya.
Ayaan was still staring at his sister. His heart felt unbearably heavy.
He remained silent for a long time before finally speaking in a low voice,
"Anya… do you remember when Dad took us to Vaishno Devi?"
A faint smile touched his lips—but it was laced with sorrow.
"You were so excited to climb the mountain. You thought we'd use ropes to scale it all the way to the top."
Ayaan gave a soft laugh.
"You'd seen that one Shinchan episode, remember? The one where he and his parents climbed a mountain using ropes? You were convinced that's how it worked in real life too.
But when we found out it was just a paved path all the way up… you were so disappointed."
He chuckled a little, but then his tone softened again. "When Dad lifted you up on his shoulders… the joy on your face, it made me believe nothing in the world could ever hurt you."
Gently, he sat down on the bench beside her. Slowly, he reached out toward her hand.
But the moment his fingers brushed hers… everything changed.
The entire room around him vanished.
The beeping machines—gone.
The oxygen mask—gone.
Even the bed beneath her—disappeared without a trace.
Ayaan looked around, startled.
He was surrounded by pitch-black darkness, thick and endless—
like he had fallen into a loop that had no exit.
Ayaan's breath quickened as he spun around, eyes darting through the inky black void.
"What the hell is happening?" he muttered, voice thick with panic.
And then—he heard it.
A voice, deep and monstrous, curling through the darkness like smoke.
"So… this one's still alive."
Ayaan whipped around—and what he saw froze the blood in his veins.
Anya was floating in mid-air, her body limp, lifeless.
But she wasn't alone.
Next to her stood a figure—no, a shadow.
A towering silhouette shaped like a wolf, made entirely of swirling black smoke. It had the same face. The same eyes. The same presence as the beast Ayaan had encountered before but this one wasn't flesh. It had no body, no weight—just the shape of dread.
It hovered close to Anya, running a ghostly hand across her face.
Ayaan's rage flared like wildfire. "Don't you touch her!" he roared, voice raw.
The creature turned, and its voice twisted into something cold, mocking, inhuman. "Don't be afraid… I won't harm her."
It locked eyes with him. "But you... you lied to me."
Ayaan blinked, confused. "Lied? What are you talking about?"
The shadow's voice darkened, venom dripping from every word.
"I asked for three sacrifices… And you only gave me two."
Ayaan was starting to understand what the creature meant.
"Cut the crap," he growled. "I never gave you any sacrifices. You stole from me. You're nothing but a lying, bloodthirsty monster."
His voice rose with each word, fury boiling in his chest.
"I never offered you anything. You took them—ripped them away—and now you stand here spewing this garbage?"
The shadow-wolf stared into Ayaan's eyes, deep and unblinking.
It was like being looked through—not at.
Like the thing was peering straight into his soul.
"But you also took something that was mine… without asking," the creature hissed.
"You stole from me too."
"Enough!" Ayaan shouted, his eyes burning red with rage.
"You're comparing a strand of hair to someone's life? You think you can say whatever the hell you want and I'll just stand here listening?"
In one swift motion, Ayaan drew a knife from his pocket and lunged at the figure, rage guiding every strike.
Each blow landed with wild force—every stab a scream of hate and grief.
But the blade passed right through the smoke, useless.
The shadow didn't even flinch.
"You think this will change anything?" the wolf's voice echoed, hollow and amused.
Ayaan wasn't listening anymore. He kept attacking—strike after strike, a storm of fury.
His blade cut through air, through smoke, through nothing.
The shadow-wolf just watched him. Its eyes locked onto Ayaan's face, unblinking.
Each swing only grew more desperate, more frenzied… more useless.
How do you wound smoke?
Finally, the creature let out a low, irritated growl.
"Fool," it muttered. And in the blink of an eye—Anya was there.
Right where the wolf had stood. Ayaan froze. His knife—mid-swing—was inches from her face.
His heart dropped as he yanked his hand back, just in time to stop himself.
But not completely.
The blade grazed her cheek—just enough to draw blood. A thin red line ran down her skin.
Ayaan staggered back, horrified. The cut was small. But another second… and it would've been fatal.
Behind him, the wolf's voice echoed—mocking and cold.
"You missed your chance, Ayaan."
He turned slowly, trembling with rage and guilt.
"That's why I'll only give you what you gave me. You'll learn… what life truly costs. What a sacrifice really means."
"I… I don't understand," Ayaan's voice trembled.
"You will," the wolf whispered. "When the time comes."
Its laughter grew louder—distorted, almost human—and then it dissolved into the dark.
Gone. Like it had never been there.
And just like that—everything snapped back.
The machines beeped steadily. The hum of the oxygen mask returned. Anya lay peacefully on the bed. Ayaan was still on the bench—hands shaking, chest heaving.
But something wasn't right. He turned to look at Anya—and his heart skipped.
There was blood on her face. A thin line, fresh, trailing from her cheek. His breath caught in his throat.
"Ayaan? Is everything alright?" Nyra's voice broke the silence as she stepped into the room.
She froze the moment she saw Anya.
"What the hell—what happened?! Why is she bleeding?"
Nyra rushed to the bed, standing between him and Anya.
Her eyes flicked to Ayaan, demanding answers.
But his face was pale, drained of all color—haunted by something she couldn't yet see.
"Nyra…" he muttered, head dropping, voice heavy with guilt.
"Yes, Ayaan?" Her voice softened, seeing his face—half afraid of what he might say next.
He explained everything that had happened with Anya. How, when he touched her, he had encountered that same old man again.
Nyra and Ayaan sat on the chair beside Anya's bed. The room felt eerily still, the weight of what was being said hanging in the air.
"So, you're saying that thing is inside you?" Nyra asked, her voice steady but laced with disbelief.
"The smoke the scientists saw inside me that day… that's him. The wolf," Ayaan replied, looking down at his hands, almost as if he could see it living within him. "He's inside me now. And he wants Anya's life."
Nyra glanced at Anya, lying still on the bed, her face frozen in a peaceful sleep, unaware of the storm unfolding around her. "But why would it want to do that? Did it say anything? Anything that might explain it?"
Ayaan's voice grew quieter, the memory of the wolf's words fresh in his mind. "It said, 'You missed your chance. So now, I'll give you the same as you gave me.' That's what it said."
Nyra's face grew grim as she absorbed his words. "So, it means... it took the lives of your two friends. But if it needed three sacrifices, and Anya survived... then it still owes you something. It gave you something in return for the lives it took."
Ayaan's mind raced, struggling to make sense of it all. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Either it's a curse, or a strange power."
Ayaan was struck by her words, a wave of shock washing over him. "Does this mean I'm not human anymore?"
Nyra looked at him seriously. "Look, I'm only speculating based on what it said. But from its words, it seems that way. However, I can't be certain. We need to figure out for ourselves what this incomplete thing really is."
"So, what do I need to do now?" Ayaan asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.
"First, stay away from Anya for a while," Nyra said, her tone firm but gentle. Hearing this, Ayaan's expression darkened, and he looked at Anya with a mix of longing and sorrow. "Alright... and then?"
"And then, you need to go back to your containment. I'll inform the manager about everything, so we can decide what to do next."
Ayaan's voice faltered as he spoke. "So, does this mean I have to stay there for the rest of my life?" The disappointment was clear on his face.
Nyra, seeing his dejection, placed both of her hands gently on his cheeks. Her touch was warm, comforting—like the soft embrace of reassurance. Ayaan looked into her eyes, and for a moment, the world felt a little less heavy.
"Trust me, Ayaan," Nyra said softly, her words wrapped in sincerity. "I will help you, no matter what."
Ayaan's heart lightened at her words. The warmth of her trust gave him a fleeting sense of peace. A tear escaped his eye, but he smiled, shaking his head in silent acknowledgment. "Hm…" he murmured, nodding. "I trust you."
The two of them shared a smile—an unspoken promise between them, a spark of hope in the face of overwhelming darkness. That moment, brief as it was, filled Ayaan with the strength to face whatever lay ahead.