That night, November 5, wasn't like any other night.
Nandanpur usually slept quietly — the distant hum of crickets, the soft rustle of trees.
But today, the air felt charged, like the whole village was holding its breath.
Ishanvi lay awake on her bed, staring at the ceiling while the lantern outside flickered without wind.
Her siblings were asleep, but she felt a strange pull — like something far away was calling her name.
Three soft knocks tapped at her window.
She sat up instantly.
"Abhay…?" she whispered.
When she opened the window, Abhay stood outside, face pale in the moonlight, breath uneven.
"Ishu," he whispered urgently, "I… I saw something."
She climbed out quietly and they walked toward the empty road between their houses.
The moon hung full and bright — too bright — casting silver trails across the land.
"What did you see?" she asked, brushing her hair back.
Abhay swallowed.
"I wasn't asleep. I was just lying there and suddenly… everything around me got cold. The water in my bottle vibrated."
He paused, voice cracking.
"And then I heard the river. Not the sound — the voice."
Ishanvi's heart skipped.
"What did it say?"
He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
"It said… 'Separate or suffer.'"
A chill crept down her spine.
"Abhay… stop. You must've imagined it."
But at that exact moment, a sudden gust of hot air circled around her, like flames without fire.
Her skin warmed unnaturally, and the ground under her feet pulsed faintly — a heartbeat she couldn't explain.
Ishanvi froze.
"I… I felt something too," she whispered.
Abhay stepped closer automatically —
and again the air shoved him back harshly, like invisible hands pushing him away.
"Ishu," he said desperately, "nature can't decide for us. I won't let it."
But those words had barely left his mouth when something unbelievable happened.
The Vision Hits Them Both
The moonlight shimmered — then warped.
And suddenly, both of them felt dizzy, the world spinning out of control.
A bright flash —
Water rising —
Fire swirling —
A shadow in the middle —
And a voice, ancient and echoing from the depths of the land:
"Two forces born together cannot merge.
When fire and water meet, one must fade."
Ishanvi gasped.
Her knees buckled.
Abhay grabbed her instinctively —
and the moment his fingers touched her arm, a burst of steam exploded between them, throwing both backward.
They hit the ground, dazed.
The vision faded, but the warning remained.
"What… was that?" Ishanvi breathed, shaking.
Abhay's chest rose and fell rapidly.
"I don't know. But it felt like the land itself was talking. The river. The forest. Everything."
Their powers were growing.
And the world was reacting.
A Painful Realization
Ishanvi hugged her knees, trying to breathe.
"Abhay… what if we really aren't meant to be?"
Her voice broke painfully.
"What if us being together destroys something? Or hurts someone?"
Abhay clenched his fists.
"I don't believe that. I won't believe that."
But his voice trembled, betraying the fear inside.
She looked at him with eyes full of tears.
"Even the universe isn't on our side," she whispered.
He crawled closer — the wind resisted, but he pushed.
"I don't care what the universe says," he whispered fiercely. "If destiny says we can't be together, I'll rewrite destiny."
Her heart twisted painfully.
But the wind between them grew stronger…
and the distant river began to glow faintly again.
Nature wasn't done warning them.
The Final Sign of the Night
As they stood up to return home, the moon flickered again — not clouds, but as if a shadow passed over it.
And on the road between them,
the dust rose…
twisting itself…
forming a single line…
A boundary.
Not human-made.
Not accidental.
But natural.
As if the earth itself was drawing a divider between them.
Ishanvi's voice trembled.
"Abhay… nature doesn't want us near each other."
Abhay stared at the boundary, anger and fear mixing inside him.
"Let it try," he whispered.
"It can warn us, scare us, push us…
but it can't break us."
But deep inside, a small part of him wondered:
What if it already had?