The narrow road curved between patches of half-built warehouses and empty fields. The city felt miles away now — even the cell network had dropped to a single bar.
Dhruv glanced at the side mirror again. The same black sedan had been behind them since they'd left the office parking lot — always keeping a safe distance, never overtaking. Out here, that was odd. Hardly anyone took this route at this hour.
He frowned. "You see that car behind us?"
Poornima checked the rearview mirror, squinting slightly. "The black one?"
"Yeah. It's been tailing us since the last signal."
She shrugged, brushing it off. "So what? Maybe they're going to one of the factories ahead. Relax, Dhruv. Not everyone's out to get you."
He tried to smile, but his gut didn't agree. Something about the car was off. Both men in the front seats wore black hoodies pulled up, masks covering their faces. Sunglasses too, though the sun had already started to dip.
No one dressed like that unless they wanted to hide.
The sedan slowed whenever Poornima did, then picked up speed again — always keeping the same distance.
The catering unit sat at the edge of the city — a squat concrete block surrounded by half-cleared plots and the faint smell of burnt diesel. Poornima parked in the narrow lot, cut the ignition, and said, "I'll be quick. Just need to check their kitchen and sample list."
Dhruv nodded. "Take your time."
Inside, Poornima disappeared into the building with the manager. Dhruv stretched, shoving his hands into his pockets, and started walking along the fence line. The afternoon heat had given way to a damp, heavy wind carrying the scent of raw grain and oil.
He kicked a pebble and watched it bounce across the dusty road — then froze.
Parked just beyond the compound wall, half-hidden by a row of scrub, was the same black sedan.
The driver's door opened an inch before closing again. No movement. No sound. Just that same stillness that didn't feel human.
Dhruv's pulse quickened. They followed us here.
He turned back toward the building, intending to find Poornima. It was almost an hour since she was gone. She should have come out by now. — and that's when he caught it.
A distant scuffle. A muffled thud. And then — that stench.
It rolled through the air like rotting iron and burned herbs, sharp enough to sting his nostrils. His eyes narrowed. "The cursed ones," he muttered, instinctively straightening.
He broke into a run.
Rounding the corner of the kitchen block, he found the source of the commotion. Two men — the same black hoodies, the same masks — had cornered Poornima near the loading bay.
But they weren't expecting her to fight back.
She moved fast — striking one in the ribs with a precise elbow jab, pivoting as the other swung at her. Her kick caught his forearm and sent him staggering back.
Dhruv slowed for a heartbeat, startled. He'd never seen Poornima like this — focused, efficient, her movements clean and deliberate.
The few inches of skin exposed below their masks gleamed ghostly pale, like bone dust under the sunlight. That nauseating odor grew heavier as Dhruv approached — old blood and something darker, something unholy.
One of the attackers caught sight of him, and a sound like a hiss escaped through his mask. The other turned sharply. For a fraction of a second, Dhruv met their eyes. Then they fled.
In perfect sync, both turned and bolted toward the compound gate, vaulted over it, and vanished into the dry field beyond.
Poornima, breathing hard, straightened and brushed dust off her sleeves. "What the hell was that?"
Dhruv didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on the field, on the faint shimmer of dust where they'd disappeared.
Finally, he said, low and tense, "Something we weren't supposed to see."
Poornima sat with her hands clasped tight in her lap, staring out the window. Her reflection looked pale, uncertain, framed by streaks of evening gold.
Dhruv kept his eyes on the road. The engine's low hum filled the air.
Finally, he said, "Do you… have any idea who those men could be?"
She blinked, turning slightly toward him. "I told you, I don't know. I've never seen them before."
"Anyone who might want to harm you? Maybe someone from work, or your past?"
A small, humorless smile tugged at her lips. "Enemies? I'm not that interesting, Dhruv."
He didn't respond. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel.
After a moment, she sighed. "I was raised by my mom after my parents split. She was everything to me."
Her voice softened, as though the memory itself were fragile. "She died when I was ten — heart failure, sudden. After that, I lived with my grandmother. She was… strict, but kind. Old-school, you know? She used to tell me never to go out after sunset — said there were eyes in the dark that never blinked."
Dhruv's head turned just slightly, his jaw tightening.
Poornima smiled faintly. "Superstitious, right? Anyway… she passed a few years ago. Since then, it's just been me."
The silence returned, deeper this time.
Dhruv swallowed, his throat dry. "You've been through a lot."
"I manage," she said simply. Then, with a half-laugh, "Why? Do I look like someone with a tragic backstory?"
He didn't smile. "You look like someone who shouldn't be on anyone's target list."
Something in his tone — protective, almost possessive — made her glance at him, but his face was unreadable, eyes fixed on the dim stretch of road.
Outside, the last traces of daylight faded, and the first moonlight rippled across the car's windshield.
Dhruv's gaze flicked briefly toward it, a faint shiver running through him. The Grand Seer's words — things will change tonight.
And for the first time in years, he felt it — that old pulse stirring in his blood.