Chapter 5: The Sea’s Whisper
Aadi stood near the gym, the afternoon sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The clock tower ticked toward 2:30 p.m., the same Tuesday hum throbbing in his skull—students milling, chatting, oblivious. His arm stung from the janitor's wrench graze, a shallow cut crusted with dried blood, his body aching—ribs tender, head pulsing, a faint taste of blood lingering from memories he couldn't pin down. He'd felt flames, fists, seen gore—Ria's, Neha's, his own—but here he was, trapped in the same day, the same faces staring back. Was it real? A nightmare tightening its grip? The hum whispered Sindhu… Sagar…, sharp and relentless, urging him on.
He'd rattled Ria, spooked the janitor—now he'd break this open. Neha and Manisha were his eyes; he couldn't let up.
The courtyard buzzed, but his focus narrowed as Neha and Manisha jogged over, their faces tense. "She's on the move," Manisha said, braid swinging, her smirk faint but edged. "Slipped behind the library—looked twitchy as hell."
Neha nodded, glasses fogged with sweat, twisting her sweater. "She kept checking her bag—like she's guarding something. I saw her pull out that note again, then shove it back fast. She's scared, Aadi—I could feel it."
Aadi's gut clenched, the hum spiking. "Scared of what? Did she meet anyone?"
"No," Manisha said, crossing her arms. "Just paced, muttering to herself. I still think you're nuts with this loop stuff, but she's acting weird enough to keep me hooked."
Neha shivered, voice low. "I don't believe it either—not fully—but she's hiding something. What if you're right, and we're stuck in this too?"
"Then we find out," Aadi said, voice steady, wiping his bloody sleeve on his pants. "We corner her—now. She's slipping; I'll make her talk."
They moved, weaving through the crowd, spotting Ria near the library steps, her posture stiff, eyes darting. Aadi approached, Neha and Manisha flanking him, his voice cutting through the hum. "Ria, enough games. I've lived this day—three times, maybe more. I've died in it. What do you know?"
Ria turned, her eyes narrowing, a forced smirk tugging her lips. "Died? You're still cracking, Aadi. Spouting nonsense again?"
"The photo," he said, stepping closer, the hum a roar. "Who took it? Why does this day keep looping? I hear things—Sindhu Sagar. Tell me what it means, or I'll rip that bag open myself."
Her smirk faltered, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she masked it. "Sindhu Sagar? You're making up words now. Get a grip—there's no loop, no nothing."
"Stop lying," he pressed, voice rising, hands balling into fists. "You're in this every time—saying I'm yours, 'mine and mine alone.' The janitor gave you something—what's in that note? What's he got on you?"
Ria's hand twitched toward her bag, her voice sharp, trembling. "You're delusional! There's no note, no janitor—I don't know what you're on about! 'Mine and mine alone' is just me screwing with you—back off!"
"You're scared," Aadi said, stepping into her space, voice low and fierce. "I see it—your hands, your eyes. I've felt fire, blood, my skull cracking—you know something. What's the note? What's Sindhu Sagar?"
She shoved him back, her breath hitching. "I said back off! You're obsessed—there's nothing in my bag, nothing to know! Leave me alone, or I'll scream you're harassing me!" Her fingers clutched the bag's strap, knuckles white, betraying her denial.
Manisha stepped up, smirking. "Oh, touchy! What's in there, Ria—your secret love letters? You're shaking like a leaf."
Ria's gaze turned venomous. "Shut it, both of you—I'll make you sorry!" She spun, storming off, but Aadi caught a glimpse—her hand slipped into her bag, pulling out a folded scrap, then shoving it back as she hurried away.
"She's cracking," Aadi said, turning to Neha and Manisha. "We need that note—follow her, get closer. I'll check the janitor again."
"Where?" Neha asked, voice quaking.
"The shed," Aadi said, eyes scanning the crowd. "He's tied to it—Ria got the note there. Let's move."
They split, Neha and Manisha trailing Ria's path toward the science block, Aadi heading for the shed. The hum pulsed, guiding him, until he spotted the janitor near the rusted structure—wild-eyed, muttering, wrench in hand. Aadi approached, voice steady. "You—what do you know? Why does this day keep coming back?"
The janitor whirled, wrench raised, his voice jagged. "You—photo boy! Too many times—always here! You're marked, cursed—I told her!"
"Told who?" Aadi demanded, dodging a wild swing, the hum screaming. "Ria? What's Sindhu Sagar? What's got its hooks in me?"
"Her!" the man spat, lunging, wrench grazing Aadi's shoulder—pain flared, but he held ground. "She started it—meddling where she shouldn't! The sea—it watches, it pulls—I told her to stop, but she won't!" He swung again, frantic, but Aadi grabbed his arm, twisting until the wrench clattered free.
"Talk!" Aadi shouted, pinning the man's arm, the hum a shriek. "What sea? What's she doing? Why me?"
The janitor thrashed, eyes wide with terror. "The rock—she took it! Sindhu Sagar—old, angry—it's awake now! You're hers, so it's got you—loops 'til it's done! I told her—give it back!" He yanked free, stumbling back, then froze, head snapping toward the science block. "They're here…"
"Who?" Aadi demanded, but a scream cut him off—Neha's voice, high and desperate. He released the janitor, sprinting toward the sound, the hum roaring. Near the science block, chaos erupted—three figures in dark coats, faces obscured by hoods, surrounded Ria. One gripped her throat, lifting her off the ground as she clawed and choked, her bag dangling. Another ripped it open with a single yank, the folded note and glowing rock tumbling onto the pavement, the green light pulsing. The third spun, blade flashing in hand, stance rigid as he scanned the crowd.
"She broke it," the throat-gripper growled, slamming Ria against the wall—her head cracked against brick, a gasp escaping.
Manisha charged in, braid whipping, swinging her backpack with a yell—it smashed into the blade-wielder's chest, staggering him. He snarled, slashing—Manisha ducked, the blade slicing air, grazing her shoulder—she stumbled, blood welling, but lunged again, tackling his legs. He twisted free, kicking her ribs—she grunted, rolling away, scrambling up with fists raised. "What's that thing?!" she spat, dodging another slash, grabbing a loose brick and hurling it—it clipped his arm, drawing a curse.
Neha darted forward, grabbing Ria's arm, pulling with a scream as the baton-wielder advanced—his weapon swung, cracking into her spine. She collapsed, glasses shattering, clawing the ground to rise—her hands slipped in her own blood as he stomped her wrist, snapping bone. "Stay down!" he barked, kicking her side—she curled, gasping, tears mixing with dirt.
Aadi barreled in, the hum a wail, slamming into the throat-gripper—his shoulder drove into the man's gut, sending him crashing down, the rock skittering free. Aadi straddled him, fists pounding his chest, then his jaw—blood flecked the pavement. The man's hood shifted—stitched inside, Axiom glinted in faint thread. Aadi froze for a split second—Axiom—then roared, "Who?!" The man twisted, blade flashing from his coat, slashing upward—it sank deep into Aadi's chest, blood gushing as he reeled back, hands clutching the wound, pain blinding him. "See if you break," the man hissed, shoving him off, rising with a stagger.
Ria thrashed, nails raking her captor's arm—"He's mine!"—drawing red lines. He snarled, wrenching her head back—her neck snapped with a sickening crack, body crumpling lifeless to the ground, eyes staring blankly at the sky. The throat-gripper kicked her aside, snatching the rock as its glow flared.
Manisha surged up, brick in hand, smashing it into the blade-wielder's knee—he buckled with a grunt, but his blade whipped out, slicing her throat in a crimson arc. Blood sprayed, her hands flew to her neck, choking as she dropped, twitching, then stilling, brick rolling from her grasp.
Neha crawled, sobbing, reaching for Aadi—her broken wrist dangled uselessly. The baton-wielder loomed, swinging down—her skull cracked, blood pooling beneath her as she slumped, limp, a final shudder rippling through her frame.
Aadi staggered, blood soaking his shirt, vision fading, the hum a whisper. "What…?" he rasped, collapsing, the rock's glow dimming in the throat-gripper's hand. "Such a Disappointment, You could have made this interesting for us" he said, voice flat, turning away. The blade-wielder limped over, nodding. "Done—others will see," as darkness took Aadi, his last breath a wet gurgle, then silence.