That Sunday morning, the skies were a pale grey, as if even the clouds were unsure of what the day would bring.
At the Howrah Railway Station, the four shadows of worry gathered—Samar, with his usual calm but watchful expression; Roumit, stretching his arms like he was going to war; Alya, clutching the strap of her sling bag nervously; and Advika, arriving last, panting with a cheeky, "I'm here, finally! Train didn't leave, right?"
"Of course not. You are the train," Roumit muttered with a smirk, while Alya gave a small glare, clearly still not over the 'Rival👹' teasing.
They all boarded the local train bound for Gunjanpur, the rural, forest-touching village where Farmaan—Armaan's Rakshak mentor—resided in near solitude.
As the train screeched and rattled forward, the four sat together, unusually silent.
The rhythmic clatter of the train over the tracks filled the gaps of conversation, each of them lost in thought. Samar looked out the window, fidgeting with a pen in his hand. Roumit tried to listen to music but took the earphones off mid-song. Alya watched the blur of trees and huts go by, while Advika, unusually quiet, kept staring at her phone lock screen—a picture of the group during better times.
"You really think he'll talk to us?" Alya finally broke the silence.
"Let's just hope he's at home," Roumit replied.
"Or not fighting off a demon somewhere," Samar added grimly.
After stepping down onto the dusty platform of Gunjanpur, the four of them—Samar, Roumit, Alya, and a slightly late Advika—stretched and took a moment to adjust to the quiet, rustic air of the village. The faint chirping of birds and the smell of moist earth welcomed them.
They were just about to head toward Farmaan's house when Advika softly spoke, "There's a place I want to visit first."
Samar, checking his watch, raised an eyebrow. "Where is it? We don't really have a lot of time, you know."
But Advika's eyes didn't flinch. Her usual spark had dimmed, replaced with a calm seriousness that immediately drew everyone's attention. "I want to visit Tara's grave," she said. "The one near the old training grounds—where Armaan trained. It's been a long time since I last went. I just… I need to go."
There was a pause. Alya looked at Samar. Samar looked at Roumit. They all understood without a single extra word.
Roumit nodded first, gently. "Why not? Let's go."
Because they all knew how much Tara meant not only to Advika, but also Armaan. Her sacrifice etched deep into the memories of those who had survived.
The path to the training ground was quiet—almost too quiet. Dry leaves crunched beneath their shoes, and the late morning sun filtered through the neem trees that lined the trail. The familiar clearing slowly came into view: the wide Rakshak training ground, now abandoned, silent, yet alive with the ghosts of the past.
But as they stepped through the last curtain of foliage and the clearing fully revealed itself—
—they froze.
Every single one of them.
Stunned wasn't even the word. It was as if the ground itself had shifted beneath their feet. A cold jolt ran down each of their spines.
Because beside Tara's grave, under the same tree that once shaded the Rakshak trainees during their breaks, sat someone.
Not standing.
Not moving.
Seated, with his back slightly hunched forward, knees up, and eyes blankly staring at his hands like he couldn't understand what he was looking at.
The breeze seemed to halt.
No birds chirped.
Not even a whisper escaped anyone's lips.
Because that someone… was Armaan.
The same boy who hadn't returned a smile in days.
The same boy who now sat in silence beside the grave of a fallen comrade, as if he had been there for hours, or maybe longer.
They froze—Samar instinctively half-raised his hand to gesture everyone back, but it was pointless.
Armaan's head slowly turned.
He had already sensed them. Through their prana. Through their presence.
Even without looking, he knew they were there.
And then—his eyes met theirs.
Those cold, distant eyes.
The ones that used to burn with fire, with mischief, with sharp clarity and silent care—now empty. Still. Tired. Like something within had either broken… or was just waiting to shatter.
Then came the voice.
A voice that was unmistakably his, but felt like it came from someone else.
"Why… why are you here?"
Not a bark.
Not anger.
But a question…
Cold.
Shaky.
Almost trembling.
Like he wasn't ready to see them.
Like he was scared of what he might do if he faced anything more.
Samar, always the one to read the silence between words,
the ache behind smiles,
was the first to see it.
Armaan's eyes…
weren't dry.
Tears were already streaming silently, as if they'd been holding back for days,
trying to leak through cracks he had tried too hard to patch.
Without a second thought, Samar dropped his bag to the dirt path with a thud,
ran forward—his footsteps loud in the stillness of that moment—
and hugged him.
Tightly. Fiercely. Without a word.
As if by doing so, he could take some of the pain away.
And that's when Armaan broke.
Not in rage. Not in screams.
But in sobs that came like waves crashing against a dam finally giving way.
He buried his face against Samar's shoulder,
his body trembling as the tears poured freely now.
"What should I do?"
"What should I do, Samar… tell me…"
"What should I do?"
His voice cracked—again, and again—
as if he wasn't just asking for help…
He was begging for release from whatever he was carrying.
And for the first time, the rest of them saw the weight Armaan had buried deep inside.
Not as a Rakshak.
Not as a leader.
But as a boy.
A friend.
A human being… who had no idea how to bear this anymore.
Everyone—Alya, Advika, Roumit—rushed forward the moment Armaan broke down,
their instincts screaming to comfort him.
But as they reached closer, Roumit extended his arm out,
halting the girls with a subtle shake of his head.
He whispered,
"Let Samar handle this for now… Don't make it harder for him."
The weight in Roumit's voice was low, but decisive—he knew Armaan needed space, not a crowd.
Samar tightened the hug, trying his best to anchor his friend to reality.
But Armaan, still trembling, kept speaking, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What… What if I end up hurting those I'm trying to protect the most…?"
"Wh… What if this power…" he clutched Samar's sleeves tightly,
"swallows me from the inside, makes me lose everything… everyone…"
His voice cracked again, the tremors in his tone matching the tremble of his fingers.
The air around them felt colder—as if even the wind held its breath.
No one understood exactly what he meant.
His words were fragmented, but soaked with fear. Not of death, but of destruction—his own.
Without saying anything, Advika slowly walked over, sat beside him, and gently began rubbing his back,
her thumb making small circles, calm and constant.
Alya followed, silently pulling out a water bottle from her bag,
kneeling beside him and offering it.
"Drink some water," she whispered softly.
Armaan took it with trembling hands, took two small sips, and lowered the bottle.
His eyes were still down, still shadowed.
Then finally, Roumit stepped forward, crouched beside Samar and looked Armaan in the eye.
"Calm down…" he said, steady and clear.
"And tell us everything. In detail."
After Armaan took a few more deep breaths, the trembling in his hands slowly ceased. He sat still beside Tara's grave, eyes fixed on the cracked soil in front of him. The others remained quiet, giving him space—only the gentle breeze moved through the training ground, stirring old memories.
Then, at last, Armaan spoke again—his voice low, broken, but steady.
"It all began… after the football championship."
Everyone listened in complete silence.
"That night, I had a dream—no, more like a vision. I found myself standing in a black, endless void… like existence itself had been erased. No sky. No land. Just darkness, pressing in from all sides."
His fists clenched, and his voice wavered.
"And then… I saw him."
"The Deepsea Bloodshed Dragon."
The name alone sent shivers down their spines.
"He stood in the void… massive, ancient, terrifying. His entire body was dripping with crimson blood—flowing like rivers across his scaly form… and his eyes—his eyes were pitch black. No soul. No light. Just void."
Armaan's voice dropped even lower.
"He looked at me… and then he said…"
He paused.
Then, he stared straight ahead and echoed the words in a hollow voice:
"WHEN ARE YOU COMING?"
Everyone froze.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
"That dream kept repeating. Every night. And each time… he came closer. And louder. As if he was waiting for me."
He shut his eyes tight for a second, fighting the panic within.
He shut his eyes tight for a second, fighting the panic within.
"Then after that… that rainy day…"
His voice trembled again.
"During lunch break… I was napping in class, just trying to escape the exhaustion. But he came back."
His grip tightened around the dirt beneath him.
"The Deepsea Bloodshed Dragon appeared again—same void… same presence. And this time… the question was louder. Sharper."
"WHEN ARE YOU COMING?
He paused, breathing hard. The memory was still raw.
"I—I panicked. I couldn't breathe. I didn't wait for the bell… didn't tell anyone… I just ran. Out of school, out of the city… all the way to Gramps' house."
Everyone's eyes widened. That sudden disappearance—they now understood it wasn't because Armaan was being distant… it was because he was terrified.
"Gramps listened… and after a long silence, he told me to try something… to meditate, to calm my soul and try to connect with that being directly."
Armaan's voice slowed down, growing deeper.
"And… I did."
He looked up at the sky, now overcast, the clouds mirroring the heaviness in his heart.
"I connected. My spirit drifted into that black realm again… and this time, I could feel his breath… his presence closer than ever before. I asked who he was—and that's when he revealed everything."
The group leaned in, even Alya holding her breath.
"He said… 'I am the second ruler of the Draconic Realm. The heir to a throne drowned in blood and silence. The son of the Black Hole Dragon.'"
Samar's eyes widened. Advika flinched.
"He told me about the Draconic Dominion War… about what it meant to be part of this legacy. He didn't show me everything, but just the fragments… they were enough to make me understand the weight of it all."
Armaan paused again, his voice growing firmer.
"He said… he chose me. That I'm the bridge between what was lost and what is coming."
"He asked me to find the inheritors of the lost Draconic bloodlines—those whose dragons had been scattered across the realms. That if I help reunite those dragons, if I bring them together… he would give me his power."
He finally looked back at all of them—his friends, his anchors.
"He promised to help me avenge my father's death… and more than that, to give me enough strength to protect all of you."
A moment of silence hung again. The gravity of it all was immense. The Draconic Realm, the lost bloodlines, the awakening within Armaan—it was far bigger than anyone had imagined.
Roumit whispered, half in awe:
"…this… is real."
And the wind passed again, carrying with it a tension that none of them could ignore.
Everyone stood still for a moment.
And in that moment… everything clicked.
All the questions… all the doubts… all the misunderstandings they had about Armaan's sudden withdrawal, his mood swings, his vanishing that day from school—
They finally understood.
He wasn't being distant.
He wasn't trying to push them away.
He was afraid.
Because in the end… he was still just a 16-year-old boy.
A high schooler caught between terrifying dreams, a collapsing reality, and a legacy of dragons and destruction too heavy for most adults to bear.
Someone still figuring himself out.
Someone at an age where even small problems feel too big.
And here he was… carrying the fate of ancient realms on his shoulders.
Advika couldn't hold back anymore. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
"We're sorry…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We thought you were avoiding us… being distant. But the truth is… you were suffering all alone. We're so, so sorry…"
Armaan didn't speak, but his fingers gripped the back of her shirt gently.
And then one by one, the rest followed.
Samar, Roumit, Alya… all wrapped their arms around him. No one said anything. There was nothing to say that words could capture.
Just the warmth of friends.
The weight of their embrace.
And a silent promise—
You're not alone in this anymore.
No matter how big the storm was.
No matter how dark the void.
They were with him.
After a few long, silent moments — where the weight of emotions finally began to settle — Armaan slowly pulled back from the group hug. His breathing steadied, the panic in his chest dulled to a quiet throb, and a faint, almost nostalgic smile crept onto his lips.
He wiped his face with his sleeve and took a breath.
"So…" he said, his voice lighter now — almost teasing, "now spill it… why are you guys here?"
Everyone blinked.
Then looked at each other.
Then smirked.
Of course he would ask that. Typical Armaan — even after breaking down, he had to regain control like nothing happened.
Samar gave him a soft punch on the shoulder and chuckled.
"We're the ones who should be asking you that, genius. You vanish like a ninja, don't reply to messages, don't show up to school, and then we find you sitting at Tara's grave in the middle of nowhere like it's a casual Sunday picnic?"
Armaan looked down for a second, slightly guilty. But Roumit grinned and added,
"And by the way, you have Advika to thank. She's the one who said she wanted to visit Tara first before we went to your gramps' place."
Armaan raised an eyebrow at Advika, and she tried to look away, but her blush gave her away. Alya just rolled her eyes playfully and said,
"Don't let it get to your head. We were all worried. Ms. Sen was the one who figured out something was wrong — and then we all just… connected the dots."
Samar nodded and took over from there, explaining everything — from the silence at school, to the growing concern, the call to Advika, and finally, the decision to visit Farmaan themselves to get answers, even without Armaan's permission.
They laid it all out, bit by bit.
By the end of it, Armaan was quiet again. But this time… there was peace in his silence.
He looked around at all of them.
"Idiots…" he said softly. "You guys really came all this way… just for me?"
Alya folded her arms, smiling.
"Of course we did."