Hostel Rooftop (Evening)
The evening sky was a canvas of bruised purples and deep oranges, the last vestiges of sunlight retreating before an encroaching, star-dusted navy. A cool, whispering breeze swept across the deserted hostel rooftop, carrying with it the distant, muffled sounds of the city. Ruhan stood alone at the parapet, his hands gripping the cool concrete, his mind a tempest of fragmented dreams and the doctor's life-altering revelation. The names Rudra and Pratham echoed in his skull, no longer just phantoms from his sleep, but shared secrets with Nivan, tying them together in a way that was both terrifying and profound.
The soft scuff of a footstep made him turn. Nivan had emerged from the stairwell, his expression a mirror of Ruhan's own troubled contemplation.
"What happened, Ruhan?" Nivan asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.
Ruhan sighed, turning back to the darkening horizon. "Nothing… just thinking about us."
"Us?" Nivan's voice held a note of confusion.
"I mean about our dreams," Ruhan clarified, finally looking at him. "Our shared dreams." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications.
Nivan's shoulders slumped slightly. "Oh… okay."
"I heard everything you told the doctor," Ruhan continued, his voice low and intense. "About the Gurukul, the fight... Rudra and Pratham. We can't keep avoiding this, Nivan. We need to talk about it. We need to understand."
Nivan met his gaze, and for the first time, there was no denial, only a resigned acceptance. "Okay… we will talk about it. I promise."
Suddenly, the solitary, flickering bulb that illuminated their corner of the rooftop began to sizzle and sputter. It didn't just flicker; it convulsed, casting frantic, strobing shadows that danced maniacally across the walls. The gentle evening breeze died abruptly, replaced by a cold, unnatural stillness that seemed to suck the sound from the world. The air grew heavy, charged with a palpable, menacing energy that made the hairs on their arms stand on end. Both boys froze, their breaths catching in their throats, their hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm of dread.
Just then, from the deep, impenetrable darkness of the far corner, a tall, imposing figure began to materialize. He didn't just walk; he glided, his movements fluid and eerily silent, each step radiating a supernatural power and an ancient, cold pride.
Ruhan's blood ran cold. Instinctively, he stepped forward, placing his own body as a shield in front of Nivan. His voice, when it came, was a tremor of fear wrapped in a veneer of bravery. "Who's there? Answer! Tell me now!"
Nivan shrank behind Ruhan, his fingers clutching the back of Ruhan's shirt. His whisper was a terrified, broken thing. "Neerav... really... it's not you, is it? This isn't a joke?"
The figure emerged fully into the faltering light. He was clad head-to-toe in black, a long, heavy coat that seemed to drink the light around it, its tails fluttering in a wind that didn't exist, giving him the appearance of an avenging warrior from a forgotten age. But the most terrifying feature was the mask—a featureless, polished black surface that reflected their own horrified expressions back at them, a void where a face should be.
The Masked Person spoke, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate through the very concrete beneath their feet. It was filled with a bitterness and anger that felt centuries old. "Rudra... Pratham... I've finally found you both... After lifetimes of searching across the echoes of time... It's because of you that I have been wandering with this unfinished task for so many ages... You took everything from me..."
Nivan let out a sharp gasp, his entire body trembling violently. "He... he knows our old names! He said Rudra and Pratham!" he stammered, his heart feeling like it was trying to escape his chest. The theoretical had just become terrifyingly real.
Without a moment's delay, Ruhan pushed Nivan further behind him and squared his shoulders, facing the entity. A primal, protective fury began to burn away his initial fear.
Ruhan's voice was louder now, filled with a mixture of anger and terror, but underpinned by a fierce determination. "Who are you? Answer! What do you want from us?"
The Masked Person let out a cold, hollow laugh that held no mirth, only a promise of danger. "My name is 'Parth'..." he hissed, the name itself sounding like a curse. "...and it is because of you people that I am in this state... trapped between life and death, between then and now."
Ruhan shouted, his patience snapping, "Tell us! How do you know about us? Who are you, really?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the masked figure, Parth, let out another bone-chilling laugh that seemed to warp the air around them. Then, without any warning, he didn't turn or walk away. He simply... dissolved. His form fragmented into tendrils of shadow, melting back into the darkness from which he came as if he were nothing more than a collective nightmare. The only evidence he had ever been there was the faint, lingering rustle of his coat echoing in the suddenly still air, and the rooftop bulb that flickered once more before glowing with a steady, normal light.
Nivan and Ruhan were left standing there, dumbfounded, their minds refusing to process what their eyes had just witnessed.
Nivan was on the verge of tears, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Ruhan... that... how did he know about us? And how did he... disappear like that? What is happening? This isn't a dream, is it?" His voice was thin and reedy with panic.
Ruhan, his own heart thundering, turned and gripped Nivan's shoulders firmly, forcing him to focus. "Calm down, Nivan... just breathe. Calm down. I'm here with you, right? I'm not going anywhere." His voice was softer now, a lifeline in the surreal chaos. "Let's get out of here. Now."
Not letting go, Ruhan took Nivan's hand in his—a firm, grounding grip—and quickly led him away from the rooftop, down the stairs, back to the realm of fluorescent lights and familiar corridors.
Once inside their room, Ruhan guided a shell-shocked Nivan to his bed. "Nivan, we'll talk about this later. When our heads are clearer. You need to rest. You go to sleep now."
Nivan, too overwhelmed to argue, simply nodded his head, his eyes wide and unblinking. He lay down, pulling the covers up to his chin, seeking a comfort that felt a million miles away. Ruhan watched him for a moment before retreating to his own bed. Both closed their eyes, but sleep was a distant shore, chased away by the haunting echo of a name: Parth. The past was no longer just dreaming; it was hunting.