Chapter 21 — Sleepless night
Pentagon, USA — 2:30 A.M.
The corridors of the Pentagon were almost silent at that hour. Only the hum of fluorescent lights and the soft buzz of distant security monitors broke the stillness. The marble floors reflected the dim emergency lights, giving the hallway a cold, metallic sheen.
A man in a black suit sprinted down the corridor, clutching a red file so tightly his knuckles turned white. His shoes echoed sharply against the floor — a rhythm of controlled panic.
He stopped in front of a steel door marked Major General Donovan — Strategic Command. Taking a breath, he knocked twice, firm and restrained.
From inside came a hoarse, sleep-heavy voice.
"Who is it?"
"Sir, it's Jonathan Kals. Intelligence Division."
There was a pause — the sound of movement, a muttered curse — and then the door swung open.
A broad-shouldered man stepped out, half-buttoned uniform, hair disheveled, eyes still heavy with fatigue.
"What is it, Kals?" he grumbled.
Jonathan snapped to attention, offering a salute before speaking in a tight, urgent tone.
"Sir, I called several times, but there was no response. We've detected an unidentified object entering U.S. airspace — heading toward North Carolina."
Major General Donovan rubbed his temple. "At this hour? Probably just another spy drone. Tell NORAD to take care of it. Shoot it down."
"Sir…" Jonathan hesitated, lowering his voice. "It's not that simple."
Donovan's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
"The object is small — roughly the size of a basketball — but it's moving at hypersonic speed. Our radar barely keeps up. It's too fast for any known UAV or missile type. Every few seconds, it vanishes from all tracking systems, then reappears miles away."
The general straightened, fatigue vanishing in an instant. "Hypersonic? From which direction?"
"We're not sure, sir. The entry path doesn't match any known flight corridor. It's not Russia or China."
Donovan's brows furrowed deeply. "What?" He threw the file against Jonathan's chest. "With the world's most advanced tracking systems, you people can't even trace a freaking missile!?"
Jonathan stiffened. "Sir, we don't know how, but the object keeps disappearing from radar — then reappearing randomly. But, sir… it's not a missile."
Donovan narrowed his eyes. "How can you be so sure?"
"Sir, this is the second time it's entered U.S. airspace."
The general froze mid-turn. "Second time?"
"Yes, sir. We logged a similar anomaly two hours ago over the Pacific — identical energy signature, same disappearance pattern. We dismissed it as radar interference… until now."
Donovan's expression hardened. "Has the White House been informed?"
"Yes, sir. The President's directive was to avoid any hasty action until we confirm what it is."
Donovan exhaled slowly, the sound sharp in the stillness. "Alright. Pull every satellite we have — military and civilian. I want a complete trajectory reconstruction. Track it from entry to impact. If it lands, I want boots on the ground within the hour."
"Yes, sir."
"And Jonathan," Donovan added, voice low, "if this turns out to be another nation's tech, it's a global incident. We can't afford mistakes. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Jonathan gathered the scattered pages, tucked the red file under his arm, and hurried down the hall.
Donovan stood alone for a moment, staring at the glowing radar feed on his desk.
The blip flickered … vanished … and then reappeared — a thousand miles away.
He muttered under his breath, "That's impossible."
---
By dawn, intelligence lines across the world had lit up.
From Washington to Moscow, Beijing to New Delhi — encrypted calls, urgent briefings, and quiet denials spread like wildfire.
But by the time the sun rose, the object had disappeared — leaving no trace on satellite, radar, or sky.
And not one nation could say what — or who — it was.
---
Unaware of the chaos he had caused, Soma was simply chatting with Dev about their upcoming exams.
The room was bright and comfortable, sunlight spilling through thin curtains and scattering across open notebooks and half-finished homework. The hum of a ceiling fan mixed with the beeping of a paused video game.
A sharp knock broke their chatter.
Dev's mom entered, carrying a tray of freshly cut fruit and two glasses of juice. The air filled with the sweet scent of guava and pineapple.
"Boys," she said warmly, "how's the studying going?"
"Great!" Soma and Dev replied together, voices overlapping.
She smiled, glancing at her son. "I know your exams are close, but you should take a little rest too."
"I know, Mom," Dev said with a grin.
Soma took a bite of guava, crunching softly. "It'd be great if my grandmother were as sweet as your mom."
Dev laughed. "Then you'd have to be second in class."
Soma raised an eyebrow. Second? Never.
Their laughter filled the room — easy and boyish, the kind that belonged to ordinary afternoons.
Moments later, Dev dropped his pen. "Wanna play?"
"Let's do it," Soma said, rolling up his sleeves. "I've been practicing this boxing game all week. Today, I will defeat you."
They dove into the game, fingers tapping rapidly against the controllers, digital punches echoing through the room.
Then came the quick patter of footsteps.
Tina burst through the doorway, eyes sharp. "You didn't tell me Soma was coming today!"
Dev laughed. "If I had, you'd have skipped your dance class."
"Maybe I should have," she said, half-smiling.
Dev pointed at the screen. "Want to take my place? He's beaten me fifteen times already."
Instantly, Tina's mood changed. She sat beside Soma, eyes bright with playful determination.
Hours passed in laughter, teasing, and the endless rhythm of rematches.
Finally, Tina sighed in mock defeat. "You're impossible to beat."
Soma chuckled. "You play better than your brother," he said, glancing at Dev.
Tina smiled proudly at that.
Then Soma noticed the wall clock. It was already 1:15 p.m. He took the last piece of guava, waved goodbye to Dev and Tina, and stepped out into the warm afternoon sun.
---
When he entered the house, Savitri was already seated at the dining table.
The aroma of rice and curry filled the air — earthy and comforting. Without a word, Soma washed up and joined her.
Savitri glanced at him while ladling food onto his plate. "How's your studying going?"
"Good, Grandma."
She nodded approvingly. "Hmm. This year, I want your results in the top ten."
Mid-bite, Soma froze.
Savitri looked up. "Why did you stop? Am I asking too much?"
Soma stared at his reflection in the polished steel plate. Faint light shimmered across his face. His skin glowed softly, as though moonlight had seeped beneath it.
He ran his fingers across his cheek, heart skipping once.
"Did you … see that light, Grandma?" he asked quietly.
"What? What light?" she replied, frowning.
"It's nothing," Soma said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just my imagination."
Savitri studied him for a moment, then sighed. "You don't have to clean the dishes today. If you're tired, go rest."
"Thanks, Grandma."
After finishing his meal, Soma went straight to his room and collapsed onto the bed.
The air smelled faintly of detergent and sunlight. Outside, sparrows chirped in the neem tree.
Closing his eyes, he visualized the rune — seven silver rings spinning slowly in his mind.
He focused on the fifth: Genesis — The Ring of Creation.
Light gathered before him, and glowing text began to form.
---
SOUL STORAGE
1. Soul Fragments: 180,790
2. Awakened Souls: 371,562
3. Intelligent Souls: 23
4. Transcendental Souls: 0
5. Immortal Souls: 0
6. Divine Souls: 0
---
The "Awakened Souls" counter was rising — hundreds more each minute.
A cool sensation spread through his chest, gentle and rhythmic, like water flowing beneath his skin. He finally understood the reason for that strange light and the tingling warmth pulsing through him.
Smiling faintly, he lifted his head and peeked under the bed.
Only five metallic spheres remained, glowing faintly in the shadows.
"Alex is doing her job perfectly," he murmured.
A soft yawn escaped him. The world faded into a comfortable haze, and within moments, Soma drifted into sleep.
---
When Soma woke, the world felt softer somehow.
Golden dusk light slipped through the half-drawn curtains, painting quiet stripes across the room. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air — Savitri must have lit an incense stick earlier.
He blinked slowly.
Beside him, Savitri sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing her hand through his hair. Her touch was feather-light, careful not to wake him too abruptly.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice low and warm, like a late-evening prayer.
"I feel better now," Soma murmured, still half asleep.
Savitri smiled faintly and stood. "If you're hungry, you don't have to come downstairs. I've prepared your dinner — it's beside the computer. Eat while it's warm."
Squinting at her through the dim light, Soma smiled. "Thank you, Grandma."
"Hmm." She brushed a bit of hair from his forehead, her eyes soft. "Don't stay up too late."
With that, she closed the door quietly behind her, her slippers fading down the hallway.
Soma sat up, rubbed his eyes, and noticed the warm meal — rice, lentils, and fried okra — waiting by the computer. The room smelled of cumin and home.
He ate in silence, each bite grounding him in the simple comfort of his grandmother's care.
Then, tiredness returned again. He placed the plate aside, stretched out on the bed, and closed his eyes.
---
Midnight.
The curtains fluttered with a cool breeze. Outside, the moon floated behind thin clouds, silvering the walls with pale light.
A faint hum broke the stillness — a whisper, not of wind, but of energy.
From the shadows, Alex emerged — a small sphere of silver radiance hovering above Soma's head. Her light pulsed gently, reflecting across his calm, sleeping face.
For a while, she just watched him — the rise and fall of his breathing, the faint curve of his lips as if caught in a dream. There was something almost human in the way she lingered there — a silent guardian between worlds.
Then, with a slow descent, Alex drifted under the bed.
The remaining metallic spheres rested in perfect stillness, faintly glowing like sleeping stars.
Her light touched one.
It stirred.
A soft vibration filled the air, then — without sound — the orb lifted from the ground and floated toward the window.
The curtains swayed as it slipped into the night, ascending smoothly toward the stars.
Its glow thinned and vanished into the darkness — another messenger on its way across the Earth.
The room fell quiet again.
Only moonlight remained, brushing over Soma's sleeping form and the faint hum of unseen machinery fading beyond the horizon.