Rudra sat there—back straight but breath shallow—because the tent suddenly felt too small, too warm, too alive for what was whispering behind his ribs.
He blinked again. The universe didn't glitch this time, but something behind his eyes did, a subtle contraction, like a camera adjusting its aperture without permission.
Riley stood in front of him chewing yak meat, casual, bored, and absolutely oblivious to whatever eldritch tremor just hummed through Rudra's skull.
"Oi mate," Riley said, toothpick bobbing between his teeth, "you okay? Your eyes just did a whole… I dunno… expanded like— like a fish trying to kiss someone, then retracted like it regretted it."
"What the fuck does that mean," Rudra muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Then the déjà vu snapped into place. "Wait. I said that once already."
"You did?" Riley frowned, paused, replayed the interaction in his mind. "Huh. Weird."
But Rudra's stomach was sinking. The air felt wrong. Too familiar. Too arranged.
"Fuck… what is going on" he said grasping his belly
Riley squinted at him. "Are you high? You had that premium Mongolian—"
"Marmot Zaza," Rudra said in sync with him.
Both froze.
Rudra's skin went cold.Not outside—inside.Like something ancient and metallic had curled around his spine.
Marmot Zaza.
They had said it together.
Not "finished each other's sentences."Not a coincidence.Not banter.
A repeat.A cycle.A line of dialogue snapping into place exactly as it had the last time he lived this moment.
And died.
His breath stuttered.
Rudra clutched his abdomen as if something inside was tightening, a knot of dread, memory, and knowledge twisting itself into a single horrifying realization.
Riley watched him with growing unease."Mate, seriously, you look like you're gonna—"
Rudra whispered,"I've done this."
"Done what?"
"This. This exact conversation. This moment. These words. The marmot Zaza joke. The tent. The angle of the light. You chewing yak like a fucking gremlin. All of it. I've lived this."
Riley's brows knitted. "Bro, you're having a panic attack—"
"I die, Riley."Rudra's voice cracked in a way Riley had never heard."And I go back."
Silence.
"I woke up here because I died. My head blew apart. You were frozen with an ice dagger through your throat. Nicole was there. Crying. And then—reset."
Riley blinked once.
Twice.
Then snorted."Okay, yeah—good one. You nearly had me. Time travel? Resets? Come on, mate—"
Rudra hugged himself so hard his nails sank into his arms, shaking violently now. His breath was thin, rapid, frightened in a way Riley had never imagined he'd see from him.
The aura came next.
Like pressure.Like gravity misbehaving.Like a storm folding itself into the shape of a boy.
Riley recoiled instantly, stomach lurching, bile rising in his throat. His hands hit the tent floor to steady himself as the air grew dense enough to choke on.
"R-Red— turn it off—" Riley gagged, face pale.
Rudra snapped out of it and forced it down, the pressure collapsing like a vacuum seal releasing.
Riley coughed hard, wiping his mouth. "What the fuck was that—"
Rudra didn't answer him. Not at first.He sat there trembling, knees drawn in, staring into the tent wall like the fabric itself was a countdown.
"It wasn't a dream," he whispered."Nicole. The pot. The… whatever it was wearing that man. The freeze. The blood. I remember dying in perfect detail. And I remember waking up here again like time stitched itself to the last save point."
Riley stared at him.
Then laughed.
A nervous, too-loud laugh.
"The drugs they gave you in Kala Pani must've been wild."
Rudra looked at him slowly.
And there was no humor in his eyes.
Just the quiet, shaking horror of someone who knows something true, impossible, and irreversible.
"Riley," he said."If you don't believe me… you're going to die again."
That silenced Riley instantly.
But not because he believed him.
Because Rudra's voice—flat, cold, absolute—did not sound like a threat.
It sounded like a memory.
Riley stared at him for a long, wavering second.
Then—
A sharp exhale. A twitch in his lip.
And he burst out laughing.
Not a soft laugh.Not a nervous chuckle.
A full-bodied, bent-over, wheezing cackle.The kind you give when reality feels too absurd to take seriously.
"Mate—" Riley wiped a tear from his eye, trying to breathe, "you had me—you really had me—for a second. Time loops? Ice daggers? Nicole the popsicle demon? Jesus Christ, bro, you need sleep."
"Riley—"
"No, no—man, listen." Riley held up both hands like he was calming a madman. "You've been through jail, cults, literal demons—your brain's doing parkour right now. It's fine. Happens to everyone."
"It wasn't a hallucination."
Riley grinned, already heading for the tent flap.
"Sure, sure—next you'll tell me I die again before sunrise. Hilarious. I'm going outside before your creepy aura makes me shit myself again."
"Riley."
"Take a nap, Rudra. Drink water. Touch grass."
And with that casual dismissal—like everything Rudra said was just teenage melodrama—
Riley walked out.
The tent flap swung shut behind him.
And Rudra was left alone.
Alone with the phantom ache of a frozen dagger in his skull.Alone with the impossible memory of Riley's throat being split open.Alone with the trembling knowledge that every breath he took in this moment had been taken before.
He stared at the empty space Riley had just occupied.
And the silence was so loud it felt like someone was listening.