The scream tore through the morning stillness like a blade.
Aadhithan rushed out of the bathroom, water still dripping from his hair, towel clutched in one hand. Rasan pounded up the stairs behind him, his face a mask of confusion and alarm.
Both of them stopped in the doorway.
Menaka stood frozen beside the bed, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other pointing shakily at the mattress. The revolver lay there in plain sight—dark metal, ancient design, utterly alien in this world of silver bullets and Siddha magic.
Rasan's eyes went wide. "How—how did that get here?"
Aadhithan's mind raced. Think. Think. They can't know the truth. Not yet.
"Oh, that." He forced his voice to stay calm, casual. "I forgot to mention—my job. I'm in charge of temple artifacts and ancient manuscripts. The temple administration..." He gestured vaguely at the gun. "They gave me this. For protection."
Menaka's face crumpled with worry. "Protection? Anna, if it's dangerous work, maybe you shouldn't—" She turned away, her voice catching.
Aadhithan crossed the room and took her shoulders gently. "Look at me." He waited until her eyes met his. "It's just a precaution. Nothing more. I'll be careful. I promise." He squeezed her arms reassuringly. "Now, I need to get to work. Don't worry about me, okay? Everything will be fine."
He dressed quickly, pocketed his few belongings, and headed for the door. Behind him, he could hear Rasan's low voice murmuring reassurance to Menaka, calming her fears with steady words.
---
The morning air was gentle, the sun warm against his skin after the chill of the house. Aadhithan paused for a moment, letting the light soak into him—and immediately felt the connection.
Plants. All around him, their awareness brushed against his consciousness like soft fingers testing unfamiliar fabric. The sensation was stronger now, more insistent. He could feel them knowing him, recognizing something in his energy that responded to theirs.
He crushed the tulsi leaves Tayammal had given him and inhaled deeply. The sharp, green scent cut through the sensory overload, grounding him, pulling him back to himself.
Focus. One step at a time.
He flagged down a bullock cart and gave directions to the Nattar Kovil. The driver nodded, and they set off at the creature's patient pace.
Halfway there, a loud crack shattered the morning quiet.
The cart lurched violently, one corner dropping as the wheel gave way. The driver cursed, climbing down to inspect the damage. He straightened with a helpless expression.
"So sorry, ayya. The axle pin has broken. The cart won't go any further."
Aadhithan climbed down, resigned to walking. As he looked around to orient himself, a sign caught his eye:
AYYAN JOSIYA SABHA
He stood at the corner of Pathimoonam Idaiyar Street, in the heart of Sikkal Nagar. The divination assembly—the very place Dharma had suggested he join.
If not this, what else? The thought crystallized in his mind. This is where I'm meant to be.
He pushed open the door.
A bell chimed somewhere above, announcing his entrance. The interior was dim after the bright morning, and for a moment he could only make out shapes and shadows. Then a figure emerged from behind a counter.
A young woman.
She was short, with a body that suggested comfort with food and ease—soft curves, rounded cheeks that puffed slightly when she smiled. Her features reminded him of someone, a actress from his world... Hansika? Yes, that was it. Her hair curled loosely around her shoulders, and her lemon-yellow sari caught the thin light filtering through the windows, glowing like captured sunshine.
"Vanakkam, ayya." Her voice was warm, professional. "What assistance do you need? Would you like a divination? We have parrot divination, palm leaf reading, nadi astrology, palmistry—"
Aadhithan raised a hand, stopping the flow. "I've come to join the Josiya Sabha."
Her eyebrows rose. "Oh? For membership, the initial fee is two pavan." She paused, a small smile playing at her lips. "But forgive me—I forgot to introduce myself. Vanakkam. My name is Azhagi. And you are?"
Adhithan pressed his palms together. "Vanakkam. I'm Aadhithan."
"Azhagi studied him for a moment. "Are you certain about joining the Sabha?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Then two pavan, please. After that, you can choose the divination tools you'll need for your practice." She tilted her head. "Which method do you plan to follow?"
She began listing options again, her voice taking on a rhythmic quality that reminded Adhithan of hotel servers back on Earth reciting the day's specials. But his attention had already wandered.
Something on a shelf behind her had caught his eye.
It was an instrument—circular, made of brass, with multiple stacked plates and a rotating arm. Engraved along its edges were degree measurements, zodiac symbols, the names of months. Ancient. Complex. Beautiful.
An astrolabe.
With this, his mind whispered, I could measure the positions of stars. Calculate time. Navigate by the heavens. Predict celestial movements.
A thought ignited in his brain like struck flint. Why not use this to create horoscopes in this world? Real horoscopes, based on actual astronomical calculation instead of guesswork and tradition?
He pointed. "That instrument. I want that one."
Azhagi followed his gesture and laughed—a short, surprised sound. "That? Someone left it here long ago. A man came for divination and never returned for it. We don't even know what it's called, let alone how to use it." She looked at him curiously. "What do you plan to do with it?"
Aadhithan's mind churned. In this world, measuring stars meant tying a rope to one celestial point and stretching it to another—primitive, imprecise, limited. The astrolabe was technology from another dimension entirely, an Arab trading gift to ancient Tamil Nadu that had revolutionized navigation and astronomy. But in this world, it shouldn't exist.
Who brought it here? How did it cross between worlds?
And then, as if summoned by the question, the whispers returned.
Udhagai... Vaiyala...
Scratching. Metal against metal, close to his ear, intimate and invasive. The sounds crawled through his consciousness, demanding attention, demanding something he couldn't name.
He shook his head violently, and the sounds stopped.
Azhagi was watching him with concern. "Are you all right? What happened?"
"Nothing." He forced a smile. "Just a headache. It's passed now." He pointed again at the astrolabe. "That instrument. I want it."
Azhagi's expression shifted—a subtle change, something calculating entering her eyes. "Then two pavan for the Sabha, and two pagoda for... let's call it the acquisition fee."
Aadhithan stared at her. "You said two pavan. Now you're asking for two pagoda? That's double!"
Azhagi leaned forward, placing both hands on the counter between them. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. "Come closer. Listen."
He leaned in.
"Two pavan is for the Sabha," she whispered. "Two pagoda is for the theft we're committing by giving you this instrument without proper documentation. Take it or leave it." She leaned back, her expression pleasant and utterly unyielding.
Aadhithan had no choice. He counted out the coins, watching his savings diminish with each clink on the counter.
"Wonderful!" Azhagi's smile returned, bright and businesslike. "Now, go to your classes. If someone comes asking for a divination, I'll call you." She paused. "Oh—what kind of astrologer should I say you are?"
Aadhithan picked up the astrolabe, feeling its weight, its ancient resonance. "Star-reading astrologer," he said.
Azhagi frowned. "That's not... that's not really a thing."
He smiled. "It is now. A new experiment."
He turned and walked into the inner chambers, leaving Azhagi staring after him. She shrugged after a moment, settling back into her chair with the satisfied expression of someone who had just made a very good profit.
---
The classroom was arranged like a school—rows of desks and chairs, a raised platform at the front. Aadhithan slipped into a seat at the very back, tucking the astrolabe carefully beneath his chair.
On the platform, a man was speaking. His name, Adhithan gathered from murmured introductions, was Kannan. He was explaining the various branches of divination, their methods, their philosophical underpinnings. His voice was measured, rhythmic, utterly monotonous.
He's just like my college lecturers back home, Aadhithan thought. Perfect for putting students to sleep.
The battle against drowsiness began.
He pinched his forearm—hard. The pain cleared his vision for approximately thirty seconds. He raised his eyebrows as high as they would go, stretching his eyelids wide. He sat forward, gripping the edge of the desk. Nothing worked. Kannan's voice washed over him in waves, each wave carrying him closer to unconsciousness.
His eyes closed.
His head drooped.
Sleep claimed him.
---
"Adhithan. Adhithan, wake up."
The voice was familiar—a voice he knew, a voice that had spoken to him before. But where? When?
He forced his eyes open.
A figure stood before him, visible only to him. Black. Formless. A shadow given shape, darkness condensed into human outline. Around them, the class continued—Kannan still droning, students still scribbling—completely unaware of the presence among them.
The shadow moved closer. Its voice, when it spoke, was a grating whisper—a voice that had been scraped raw against rough stone.
"Aadhithan. Wake up."
Fear coiled in his stomach, cold and tight. Who are you? What do you want?
But before he could speak, before he could move, the shadow reached out—
And the scratching sounds returned, louder than ever, filling his ears, filling his skull, filling the universe until there was nothing else.
---