Chapter 3: The Treasure Room
The first rays of dawn slipped through the curtains, accompanied by the cheerful trill of birds outside Soma's window. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the clock above his grandfather's old computer.
"It's already 6 o'clock!" he exclaimed, bolting upright. Excitement buzzed in his veins like a swarm of fireflies—the storeroom awaited, a promise from yesterday that pulled him from sleep like a magnet.
He quickly made his bed, swapped his pajamas for fresh clothes, and dashed downstairs to the kitchen. The air was alive with the sizzle of oil and the comforting aroma of fresh parathas frying on the stove. Savitri stood there, her sari sleeves rolled up, humming an old melody as she flipped the bread with practiced ease.
Soma skidded to a halt, breathless. Savitri turned, her eyebrows arching in surprise.
"What's gotten into you, beta? You're up with the birds today—and running like the wind?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he thrust out his right hand, palm up, his eyes pleading.
"The key, grandma. Please."
A knowing smile spread across her face.
"Ah, so that's the fire in your step. Eager to dive into your grandfather's world, are you?"
Soma nodded vigorously, his heart pounding with anticipation.
"Alright, give me a moment." She turned off the stove, wiping her hands on her apron, and disappeared into her bedroom. Moments later, she returned with an old, blackened key, its surface etched with faint scratches like whispers from the past. She placed it in his palm, her fingers lingering for a second.
"As promised, here it is. But promise me you'll be careful, Soma. That room hasn't seen light in years—dust, spiders, maybe even rats. And some things in there... well, they carry their own stories." Her voice held a note of worry, her eyes searching his face, as if recalling her husband's own close calls.
"I promise, grandma. I'll be extra careful."
With the key clutched tightly, Soma bolted toward the storeroom, his footsteps echoing through the quiet house.
At the base of the upstairs staircase, tucked into a shadowed alcove on the left, was a narrow wooden door he'd overlooked a hundred times. Behind it, creaky steps descended into the dim unknown. Soma grabbed a broom for cobwebs and a soft cloth for dusting, his tools of exploration, and hurried down. At the bottom, he faced a sturdy black wooden door, its surface scarred by time.
He fished the key from his pocket, his hand trembling slightly as he inserted it into the lock. With a protesting creak that echoed like a sigh from the grave, the door swung open.
The storeroom unfolded before him, vast and cavernous—twice the size of his bedroom. It didn't have any windows; only a dim light illuminated the room, and the light came from a small hole that was used as a ventilator. That faint beam filtered through high on the wall, casting eerie shadows that danced like forgotten spirits. The air was thick, musty with the scent of aged wood, rusted metal, and something earthier, like buried secrets.
In the center, illuminated by that sliver of light, loomed a towering figure: a lion-faced man with four powerful arms, its fierce eyes glaring straight at him through the gloom.
Soma froze, his breath hitching. His heart thundered in his ears—was it alive? Did those eyes just flicker? Panic surged, a cold wave crashing over him, reminding him of the fragility he'd felt since losing his parents. He stumbled back, slamming into the wall. His hand fumbled desperately, finding the light switch by sheer luck.
Click.
Harsh fluorescent light flooded the room, banishing the shadows. Soma exhaled shakily, a nervous laugh escaping his lips—half relief, half exhilaration.
It was just a statue—ancient, cracked, and blanketed in dust, its menacing gaze now dulled by the mundane glow. But even in the light, it held an aura of power, as if it guarded the room's mysteries, watching over him like a silent protector from his grandfather's tales.
Emboldened, Soma surveyed his kingdom. White sheets shrouded shapes like sleeping ghosts, cobwebs draped from the ceiling like silvery veils, adorned with the desiccated remains of insects. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with boxes and artifacts, the air heavy with the tang of antiquity.
This is Grandfather's legacy, Soma thought, a thrill coursing through him, mingled with a quiet ache—as if uncovering these relics could somehow reconnect him to the family fragments he'd lost, turning echoes of the past into something tangible.
He rolled up his sleeves and dove in, yanking sheets free with billows of dust that made him cough and sneeze, a goofy grin breaking through as he imagined his grandfather doing the same. He swept away webs, their sticky threads clinging to his broom like reluctant memories, and wiped down surfaces, revealing glimpses of wonders beneath.
On the front wall hung a magnificent three-foot sword, its blade a gleaming arc of steel that seemed to pulse with the weight of forgotten battles. The tip split into a forked design, like the gaping maw of a serpent ready to strike, each prong razor-sharp and adorned with delicate, swirling etchings that shimmered in the faint light.
Along the blade's center, faded Arabic script flowed in elegant, curling lines, half-erased by the relentless march of time, hinting at tales long lost. The hilt, bound in worn leather smoothed by countless hands, felt heavy in Soma's grasp, as if carrying the echoes of clashing steel and distant heroics.
Holding it, he could almost hear the whispers of ancient warriors and sense the thrill of his grandfather's quests, wondering what daring journey had brought this legendary blade into his family's care.
Strange statues dotted the shelves—twisted figures with elongated limbs and enigmatic faces, origins lost to time, each one stirring a spark of curiosity that chased away his lingering shadows. Maps yellowed with age, their edges frayed, charted unknown lands. Coins glinted dully, stamped with symbols that teased at forgotten empires. And bizarre paintings, their colors muted but alive, seeming to shift when he glanced away, stirring a whisper of unease in his chest that felt oddly exhilarating.
Two hours vanished in a blur of discovery. Soma's arms burned, his shirt plastered to his skin with sweat, dust coating him like a second skin. The room was only half-cleared, its deeper corners still veiled in shadow, promising more—perhaps answers to the questions that had haunted him since the accident, pieces that could mend his fractured world.
"Soma! Breakfast is getting cold—come up before it turns to stone!"
Savitri's voice echoed down the stairs, laced with affectionate exasperation.
Reluctantly, he locked the door—the key now feeling like a talisman—and bounded upstairs. Savitri stood in the kitchen, ladling steaming kheer into bowls, its creamy sweetness cutting through the storeroom's lingering mustiness.
Her eyes widened at his disheveled state: hair tangled with webs, clothes smeared with grime, looking every bit the intrepid explorer who'd battled ancient dust demons.
"Soma!" she exclaimed, half-amused, half-concerned, her hand fluttering to her chest. "You look like you've wrestled a ghost! Go wash up, then tell me everything over breakfast—I want to hear it all, every dusty detail."
He beamed, a genuine joy lighting his face for the first time in what felt like forever, and hurried to the bathroom. The cool water rinsed away the dirt, but the excitement lingered, buzzing under his skin like a newfound pulse—a reminder that life could still hold magic amid the pain.
Back in the kitchen, he sat cross-legged beside her, spooning kheer as he spilled his tale: the creaking door, the spider kingdom, the vast room, and most thrillingly, the lion-man statue that had nearly scared him witless.
Savitri listened, her chuckles warm as the morning sun, though a shadow of nostalgia crossed her eyes, her spoon pausing mid-stir.
"That statue, beta, is Narasimha—a fierce avatar of Lord Vishnu, protector against evil. Your grandfather unearthed it in a hidden cave in the northern hills, chiseled from stone as old as the mountains themselves. He always said it watched over his treasures, keeping the darkness at bay... just as he tried to do for us."
Soma's eyes sparkled. "He found it himself? Like a real adventure?"
She nodded, her gaze softening with memories, a gentle pause as she reached for his hand.
"Oh, yes. Your grandfather lived for those thrills—he chased legends across the world. That room holds pieces of his soul: artifacts, yes, but also echoes of his journeys. And maybe... secrets waiting for the right eyes to see them."
Her voice dipped, hinting at unspoken depths, a flicker of caution in her smile.
"Secrets?" Soma leaned forward, his spoon forgotten.
A shiver of wonder mixed with a pang of longing—for the grandfather he'd never known, and the parents who'd left too soon. Exploring felt like bridging those gaps, piecing together a family puzzle, mending the holes in his heart one dusty relic at a time, turning solitude into connection.
Savitri's smile turned enigmatic, her fingers brushing his hair tenderly, as if passing on a silent blessing.
"Who knows what you'll uncover? He believed some items whispered truths only the brave could hear. Perhaps they're waiting for you, beta—to guide you, just as they did him... but remember, not all truths are easy to face."
The words ignited a fire in Soma's chest, a blend of excitement and resolve. The storeroom wasn't just clutter—it was a portal to adventure, a way to honor his grandfather's spirit and heal his own heart, transforming grief into a tapestry of hope and discovery.
But Savitri tapped his nose, pulling him back with a playful wink.
"Enough dreaming for now, explorer. School awaits—it's Saturday, half-day, so you'll have time this afternoon. But don't let those treasures distract you from your books... or from living your own stories."
Soma nodded, though his mind was already racing ahead.
He changed into his uniform and headed out, the key a comforting weight in his pocket.
As he walked the familiar path, the school bell tolling in the distance, he couldn't shake the pull of the room below.
What other wonders hid in the shadows? And what if one of them held a secret that could change everything?
The thought lingered, a quiet promise of adventures yet to unfold, as the morning sun warmed his face and the world felt just a little bigger.