Chapter 2 - "Flickering Lights, Fading Bonds"

"Goodnight, Vyom."

Varun's voice was gentle, near tentative, as he stood in the doorway of his son's room. The night lamp cast a golden, warm light over the sleeping child. So serene. So oblivious.

The final moment of normalcy.

Varun turned away, into the darkened hallway. The clock on the wall read 9:52 PM. The storm outside thundered in the distance, wind shaking the glass.

He made his way to his study, where the only noise was the soft hum of "???", the artifact sitting at the center of his desk. His research was scattered about it—pages filled with celestial alignments, ancient symbols speaking of a war that should have ended but never did.

A war that was watching him even now.

Time slipped away.

1:47 AM.

The phone rang.

He picked up on the second ring. Cold, urgent voice on the other end.

"They are near the outskirts."

Varun's breath caught. Not now. Not this soon.

"You have to leave. Now."

His gaze shifted down the hallway toward the bedroom. His son—fast asleep under the gentle light of the night lamp. The house was still. Vulnerable.

Then—a change in the air.

A presence. It was an illusion out of fear.

Varun's fingers wrapped tighter around the phone. He breathed slowly, pushing the device against his ear.

"How long do I have?"

A moment of silence.

Then—"Three minutes. Maybe less."

Varun hung up. No second-guessing.

He called someone, saying, "The time has come. You have to come out of hiding now." He wrote a letter – and kept it along with a cube in a box beside the boy's bed, Threw on a jacket – No wasted movements

Before leaving—he knelt down next to the bed. Brushed a few strands of hair from his son's face.

His voice was calm and gentle.

"Sorry, kiddo. I'm gonna miss you."

Then, he locked the bedroom door. Not to trap his son—but to keep them out.

The rain pounded against the windshield as Varun ripped open the car door and slid across the driver's seat. His breath was controlled, but his pulse hammered against his ribs.

Then—he hit the accelerator.

Tires screeched against the wet pavement. The busy streets stretched before him, distorted by rain and neon light.

He wasn't fleeing.

He was ending the cat-and-mouse chase.

But before the last showdown—there was a place he needed to reach.

Somewhere only he knew.

If he could just get there—

Then, in the rearview mirror.

Twin orbs of light. Cold. Unflinching.

They were here.

He stamped on the accelerator. 90 km/h. 100. 120. 140. The city blurred past. The storm roared.

Then—a crossroad.

A second SUV materialized in front of him from the side.

It wasn't trying to ram into him. It was guiding him.

Something was off.

Even in the dead of night, this part of the city should never be so deserted. No cars. No people.

The realization hit him like ice down his spine.

His gut feeling. His fingers twitched against the wheel.

"…Am I screw—"

A voice slithered into his mind, bypassing his ears entirely.

"Oh? You finally realized. Interesting."

A cold rush.

Not fear. Something worse.

His body locked up. His breath hitched.

His own voice, barely a whisper.

"Oh sh*t."

Then—

Light.

Blinding.

Burning.

And then—nothing.

AT THE HOUSE – 5:07A.M

The air was heavy. Thick. The smell of rain hung on the walls… but underneath, something else.

The boy stirred. Sleep was slipping away, replaced by an ache—hollow, deep. Like something had been taken before he even realized it was his to lose.

He blinked, adjusting to the darkness.

The night lamp was out.

Then—a sound.

A heavy, rhythmic pounding on the door. Fists.

BANG. BANG.

A muffled voice—furious. Commanding.

"OPEN THE DOOR, YOU—"

Outside, voices rose. A storm of hatred.

His heart pounded.

Move. Hide. Survive.

Instinct took over. He slid off the bed, pressing himself against the cold floor. Silent. Unseen.

Then—a crash.

From the roof. The impact shook the house. The sound of tearing—wood splintering, walls crumbling.

Something had broken through.

Then—silence.

The door to his bedroom—the hidden door his father had designed—opened.

But there were no footsteps.

No breathing.

Just—presence.

His skin prickled. Sweat dripped down his back. His body screamed DON'T MOVE.

Wait.

Nothing.

He exhaled, shakily. Forced himself to stand. Slowly—

Then—

A whisper.

"Peekaboo."

A sharp sting at his neck.

His vision blurred.