Sonic didn't just take the phone; he snatched it with a predatory quickness that left Arya staring at his empty palm in a state of suspended shock. The "End Call" icon flashed once on the screen before the display went dark.
Silence rushed into the room, heavy and awkward.
Arya's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he slowly looked up at his friend. "Have you completely lost your mind?" he snapped, his voice dropping an octave into that dangerous, low register he used when a junior stepped out of line during drills. "I was talking to my father, Sonic. He's waiting for my travel details."
Sonic tossed the phone onto the rumpled bedsheets as if it were a piece of worthless plastic. "Relax, Oh Great Disciplined One. What were you going to say anyway? 'Dad, I'm coming home tomorrow. Please have the home-cooked lentils ready.' It's very emotional. Very productive. Very... expected."
"That is exactly the point of being a son," Arya retorted, stepping toward the bed to reclaim his device. "It's called respect. Something you clearly skipped in your rush to be the college clown."
"It's not about respect; it's about timing." Sonic leaned back against the desk, crossing his ankles and looking far too smug for someone who had just committed a social felony.
Arya folded his arms across his chest, the khaki fabric of his shirt straining slightly against his shoulders—a physical reminder of the strange, silent growth his body had undergone during the night. "Fine. You have exactly thirty seconds to explain why I shouldn't throw you out of that window before I call him back."
Sonic's grin widened. It was the kind of grin that usually preceded a campus-wide scandal or a weekend in detention. "Third year, Arya. Think about it. We are finally the seniors. The lions of the hostel. The summer break is yawning open in front of us like a gold mine. And what are we planning to do with that freedom?"
"To go home," Arya said flatly. "Like every other sane student in the Arabres Sovereignty."
"Exactly!" Sonic pointed at him with both index fingers, his eyes alight with a manic intensity. "Boring. Predictable. Safe. We go home, we eat, we sleep, we listen to our parents talk about our 'future prospects,' and we die a little bit inside from the sheer monotony of it all."
Arya sighed, his anger beginning to give way to a weary curiosity. "And? What is the Sonic Alternative?"
Sonic leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We go on a trip. Just the two of us. No schedules, no roll calls, no Captain screaming about the shine on our boots."
"A trip?" Arya repeated, skeptical. "With what money, Sonic? We're students. My bank account currently has enough for a pack of biscuits and a bus ticket home."
"I've arranged it," Sonic said, waving a hand dismissively as if money were a minor detail like the weather.
Arya blinked, his suspicion peaking. "Arranged what, exactly? Did you rob a local merchant? Did you take out a high-interest loan from the canteen guy?"
"Everything is handled! I've been saving my pocket money for months. Every time my dad sent an 'emergency' fund, I tucked it away. I saved it for this exact moment."
Arya studied his friend's face. Sonic was impulsive, yes, but he was rarely this calculated. "So you're saying we skip the family reunion, ignore our responsibilities, and disappear? Where?"
Sonic paused for dramatic effect, straightening his back. "Goa."
The word hung in the air, shimmering with the promise of salt air, neon lights, and the distant roar of the Arabian Sea. In the Arabres Sovereignty, Goa was the ultimate symbol of rebellion—a place where the rigid discipline of the interior provinces dissolved into the humid freedom of the coast.
Arya stared at him, stunned. "Goa? That's halfway across the subcontinent. The tickets alone would cost—"
"Already considered. Already handled. Think about it, Arya. Beaches. Music. Freedom. It's the perfect environment for two decent, disciplined NCC cadets to lose their minds for a week before the fourth-year grind starts."
"It still doesn't sound convincing," Arya muttered, though his mind was already beginning to wander toward the idea. He felt a strange, primal urge to move, to test this new, lighter body of his in a place far away from the prying eyes of the hostel.
Sonic sensed the hesitation and moved in for the kill. "I know you have a cousin there. Bajrang, right? He's always bragging about his place near the shore. We have a base of operations!"
Arya hesitated, his thumb hovering over the redial button on his phone. Then, he shrugged. The memory of the silver light and the "Creation" core pulsed deep in his gut, a silent endorsement of the unknown. "Why not?"
He redialed, but not his father. He called Bajrang.
After a few rings, the call connected. "Arya? Brother! To what do I owe this rare honor?"
"Are you going home for the break?" Arya asked.
"No," Bajrang whispered. "I'm planning a one-week trip with my girlfriend to the mountains. Escaping the heat."
"I have no problem with that," Arya said calmly. "But I'm planning a Goa trip. Since you won't be there, I'm assuming you won't mind if we use your place?"
A long pause followed. "Wait. You? The human embodiment of a rulebook? You're coming to Goa? For fun?"
"Yes."
"Fine. You win this round. But you're staying at my apartment. The keys are under the third pot on the left balcony. Don't burn the place down."
The call ended. Arya turned to Sonic, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Mission complete," Arya said.
Then, Arya suddenly paused. "Wait. Where exactly is the money coming from for plane tickets? That's not 'pocket money' territory, Sonic."
Sonic waved a hand dismissively. "Money is handled. I told you. I have my ways. I'm a man of mystery."
Arya watched him carefully. Sonic was pretending to be very interested in the zipper of his backpack. He was hiding something. The jittery energy wasn't just excitement; it was a shield. Inside his head, Sonic was repeating a single mantra: Don't say anything. Don't mention the account. Just get him there.
"Fine," Arya said slowly. "When are we leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning. Zero-six-hundred hours."
They spent the next few hours in a whirlwind of activity. They finished packing by midnight. Arya dropped onto his bed, his muscles finally screaming for rest. "I'm sleeping. My body feels like it's vibrating."
They decided to move Sonic's bed into Arya's room for the night. As they carried the heavy iron bed frame up the stairs, Arya noticed it felt like it was made of balsa wood. He looked at Sonic, who was whistling as he navigated the tight turns. Neither of them commented on it.
They switched off the lights, the humming of the fan filling the space. Silence settled over the eighth floor, the anticipation of the morning flight acting as a silent tether between them.
The Federation Divide
Elsewhere—far from the dusty corridors of the hostel—a different kind of silence reigned.
In a high-end guest house in the Aetherion Federation, a young woman stood near the balcony. Her name was Aysa.
She held a sleek, encrypted phone to her ear, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was beginning to set in a violent splash of orange and violet. Her posture was perfect—too perfect for a normal human. It carried a hint of lethality, a coiled tension that suggested she could move faster than the eye could follow.
"Yes, Father," she said, her voice a calm, melodic chime. "I've finished the preliminary observations. I'll be leaving the country in a couple of days."
"Return before the ceremony," a man's voice replied—deep and cold. "The evolution wait-list is growing. And Aysa... do not use your abilities openly. Not yet."
"I won't," she said, her fingers tightening slightly on the railing. "I know the stakes."
The call ended. Aysa lowered the phone, her eyes reflecting the dying light. She looked down at her hand, and for a split second, a faint, multicolored ripple of light shimmered across her skin before she suppressed it with a sharp breath.
The world was changing. And in two different corners of the globe, the pieces were beginning to move toward a collision no one was prepared for.