Episode 52 — Ashes at Dawn
The morning air tasted of rust and old rain as Aria stepped onto the narrow alley behind the clinic. The city hadn't fully woken, but the shadows moved with purpose — shapes that watched, waited, and hunted. Bashir's coat smelled of oil and damp wool as he pressed a folded scrap of paper into her trembling hand. "Go south, Doctor. Through Kalighat. There's a train. Don't stop. Don't look back."
Her breath caught. "And you?" she whispered. Bashir's face barely shifted. "I'm an old man. Malik wants the living." His eyes softened for a heartbeat. "But don't let love make you foolish, child. It keeps you alive — until it doesn't." His words lodged like glass behind her ribs. She wanted to argue, to beg him to come too, but there was no time. Footsteps echoed on wet cobbles, and Bashir nudged her forward. "Go."
Aria pulled the scarf tighter around her neck and ran, breath misting in the morning chill. Every heartbeat drummed Raian's name against her ribs. Alive. Just stay alive.
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In the prison's deepest cell, dawn found Raian chained to damp stone, wrists raw and bloodied. His shirt clung to sweat and grime, breath rasping through bruised ribs. A guard stepped in, eyes flat and tired, carrying a small iron rod darkened by fire. "Malik wants answers," he rasped. Raian lifted his gaze, storm-grey but dulled by pain. "I've given enough," he ground out.
The rod kissed flesh, heat searing into an old scar. Raian clenched his jaw, a strangled breath catching in his throat. "Where is the rest of Dev's ledger?" the guard demanded. Raian's vision swam, darkness curling at the edges, but he forced the words through split lips. "Gone. Ashes in the Hooghly." Another blow. Pain fractured thought, every breath tasting of blood. He refused to scream. Malik wanted screams. He gave silence.
In the silence, her face rose behind his eyes: Aria's trembling hand pressed to the bars, her whisper: I'm not done loving you yet. He dragged breath into torn lungs. Stay alive for her. One dawn at a time.
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Aria crossed the train yard at Kalighat, breath ragged, side aching where stitches pulled with every step. Men shouted, steam hissed, the air thick with coal smoke and fear. She kept her gaze down, scarf pulled over her face, heart battering itself raw against bone. At the edge of the platform, she dared a glance back. No sign of black coats, but dread coiled tight as a noose. Keep moving. For him.
She boarded an old carriage, paint peeling and windows clouded by dust. The wooden bench bit through cloth and bone alike, but she barely felt it. One breath. One mile further away from Malik. Yet each mile was also a mile further from Raian — a knife she couldn't pull free.
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Back in Kolkata, Malik stood in the empty print shop, the last pages of Dev's ledger spread across a scorched table. The words blurred where blood had soaked paper, but enough remained to burn empires. Names. Accounts. Routes. Malik's fingertip traced a single name, his smile thin as a razor. "Even kings bleed," he murmured. One of his men hovered at the doorway, breath caught between fear and urgency. "Boss… the doctor fled south."
Malik's eyes lifted, flat and hungry. "Alive?" "Yes, sir." "Good," Malik breathed, his voice almost gentle. "Fear keeps her useful. Send two men ahead. Tell them: if Raian ever escapes, she dies first."
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The train lurched forward. Wheels shrieked against iron. Aria braced a hand on the worn seat, breath shallow. Across the aisle, a child watched her with wide, unblinking eyes, a threadbare doll clutched to her chest. Aria managed the faintest smile, but it trembled and fell apart. Raian… what did they do to you last night? Her pulse stuttered, grief gnawing at resolve. She had promised him: I will run. I will live. But living felt like betrayal.
Through the dirty window, Kolkata blurred and bled into fields and old temples, rain still clinging to clay roofs. She pressed a hand to her ribs, not for pain, but for the memory of his warmth beside her. Stay alive, Raian. I'm not done loving you either.
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At dusk, Raian sagged against stone, chains biting bone. Blood dripped slow and stubborn from a reopened cut. His thoughts tangled, but one truth cut through the haze: She's running. Malik hunts. And I'm chained, useless. He forced air into bruised lungs, spit blood onto stone, and opened cracked lips to speak. "Tell Malik," he rasped to the guard, "my answer is still no."
The guard's eyes flickered, almost pitying. "They'll break you." Raian's gaze burned, raw and defiant. "Let them try."
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As darkness wrapped the land, train lamps flickered. Aria's breath fogged glass, hands trembling in her lap. Behind the fear, anger burned — cold and sharp. Malik hunts me to hurt him. So let him come. If Malik thought she'd stay silent, he was wrong. I may be a healer… but love can be sharper than any blade.
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In the dying light, Kolkata's river carried ashes of secrets and blood, but dawn would rise again. And across iron bars and broken tracks, love — foolish, wounded, stubborn — kept two hearts beating, bound by blood, tied by heart.
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Teaser for Episode 53:
Raian faces Malik himself in a cell where hope dies slow. Aria reaches the south — only to find betrayal waits there too. And in Kolkata, a single lost page of Dev's ledger sets fire to old loyalties.