Chapter 89: Echoes of the Past

The tunnel walls were damp, the air thick with the scent of earth and time. Footsteps echoed behind them as they ran—not just theirs.

They weren't alone.

Satya tightened his grip on the book, every nerve in his body on high alert. The sacrifice of the historian still burned in his mind, but they had no time to grieve.

"Where does this lead?" Saanvi panted, glancing behind her.

Virendra scanned the stone passage, his brows furrowing. "There must be an exit. But we have to keep moving."

A sudden noise—heavy boots pounding against the stone.

Jayant's men were following them.

Satya pushed forward, his mind racing. The tunnel was old—perhaps older than the palace itself. If it was built as an escape route, there had to be a hidden exit.

Then he saw it.

A faint draft—air seeping through a crack in the stone.

"This way!" He grabbed Saanvi's hand and rushed toward the source. Aryan and Virendra followed.

Satya pressed against the wall, feeling along the edges. "There's something here. Help me push!"

Together, they shoved with all their strength. The stone groaned, resisting at first—then suddenly gave way. A section of the wall pivoted inward, revealing a hidden chamber.

They stumbled inside just as shouts erupted from the tunnel.

"They went that way!"

Satya turned, heart hammering. There was no time to close the passage behind them.

"Find another way out," Virendra hissed.

The room was filled with dust-covered artifacts—old scrolls, ledgers, and remnants of history lost to time. The walls were lined with faded sketches, portraits of people from another era.

And in the center of the room, a table—with a name carved into its surface.

Satya stepped closer, brushing off the dust.

"Veer Meghawal."

His breath caught.

This wasn't just another hidden chamber.

This was where Veer had recorded everything before he died.

Before he was silenced.

The book in Satya's hand suddenly felt heavier. The historian had died to ensure they got here. And now—

Now, they were standing in the heart of the truth.

But before they could process it—

The sound of footsteps outside.

Jayant's men were close.

And there was no way out.