Encounter in the Fog

Dhruv's thoughts were still lingering on the entity's words. "You already know."

The phrase looped in his mind like an unsolved riddle. Who created it? What did it mean? He had spent centuries observing the cosmos, understanding its mysteries, yet this was something he couldn't grasp. The uncertainty unsettled him in a way few things ever had.

He walked through the quiet city streets, his pace unhurried. The night air was crisp, laced with the faint scent of rain from earlier in the evening. Fog curled around the streetlights, swallowing the world in a dim, muted glow. The city was alive in the distance, cars honking, faint laughter spilling from late-night cafes, but here, in this deserted stretch of road, all was silent.

Until he heard it.

Footsteps.

Fast. Uneven.

Someone was running.

Dhruv barely had time to turn before a figure emerged from the mist, a woman, breathless, fear etched onto her face.

"Help me!" she gasped, her voice raw with desperation.

She nearly crashed into him, her hands instinctively gripping his coat as she tried to steady herself. She was trembling, chest rising and falling rapidly, but amidst her panic, her gaze flickered with recognition.

"You…" she panted. "I....I think we met before. At the space show theater…" She swallowed hard, glancing over her shoulder. "Please, you have to help me. Someone's chasing me."

Dhruv barely reacted. His expression remained unreadable, cold. "That's your problem to deal with," he said flatly.

She stared at him, disbelief flashing across her face. "Are you serious? I...I can't even call the cops! My phone's dead!"

Her voice wavered, desperate.

Then, another sound.

Heavy footsteps. A low, uneven breath.

From the mist, a second figure appeared,a man, his silhouette looming under the streetlight. He moved with purpose, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something cruel. In his grip, a glint of metal, a knife.

The woman stiffened, her grip tightening on Dhruv's coat.

The man smirked. "Move," he said, his voice thick with amusement. "Unless you wanna get hurt too."

Dhruv didn't move.

The man's smirk faltered slightly, but he scoffed. "Suit yourself."

Then, he lunged.

The knife sliced through the air, only to freeze inches from Dhruv's chest.

The man's hand shook. His wrist stiffened, his fingers twitching unnaturally. Panic flickered in his eyes as he struggled to move, to pull back, but somethingx3something invisible—had seized control of him.

His grip on the blade loosened, and to his horror, the knife began to turn.

Not by his will.

A strangled noise escaped his throat as the blade shifted, tilting downward, pressing against his own palm. He fought against it, veins bulging in his neck, but it was useless. His own hand was betraying him.

His breath hitched. The knife pressed deeper. Blood welled at the tip.

And then—

A sharp, sickening slice.

His scream tore through the empty street as something small and pale hit the pavement. His pinky finger.

Shaking, he clutched his bleeding hand, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. His gaze darted to Dhruv, his face pale with terror.

"What the hell, what the hell are you?" he stammered, stumbling backward.

Dhruv didn't answer. He just stared, his expression unreadable, as if what had just happened was of no consequence.

The man didn't wait for an answer. He turned and bolted, his footsteps fading into the mist.

Silence settled once more.

The woman, still standing behind Dhruv, slowly released her grip on his coat. Her breathing was uneven, her heart still hammering in her chest.

What just happened?

She swallowed, her throat dry. He had done something. He had made that man hurt himself. But how?

Her eyes flickered up to his face, searching for an answer, but Dhruv remained as unreadable as ever. No triumph, no amusement, just cold detachment.

Then, without a word, he turned and began walking away, as if none of it had mattered.

She stood there, unmoving, watching his figure disappear into the night.

She didn't even know his name.

But she knew one thing for sure... he was no ordinary man.

- - - to be continued - - -