The roar of the Royal Enfield Bullet echoed through the university gates like thunder rolling off distant hills.
Heads turned instantly.
The sound was too heavy, too deep, too alive to be mistaken for anything ordinary. It wasn't a scooter. It wasn't some cheap modded ride. This was something else—older, meaner, patient.
Then Rai pulled in.
Boots hitting the pavement. Matte black helmet under one arm. That familiar calm expression that somehow said everything and nothing all at once.
Some of the students near the parking lot froze, watching like it was a scene from a movie.
The same quiet guy from architecture class who barely spoke? First the black Mustang with the guttural growl… now this?
"Is that the same guy?"
"He's got a thing for loud machines, huh?"
"No way he's just a student."
He parked slowly, with complete control, kicked the stand, and dismounted.
No swagger. No drama.
Just presence.
Emma waited near the steps of the architecture wing, arms folded as Rai approached.
"You're aware you're becoming a myth, right?" she said, raising a brow.
Rai gave a faint shrug. "Didn't know parking had that kind of power."
She stepped beside him, smirking.
"First, you pull up in a hellhound. Now a vintage beast? You're either cursed with good taste or trying to make an entrance."
He looked over at her.
"I like quiet engines that sound like storms."
She held the smile a little longer, but her eyes scanned him—searching for something beneath his calm. "You didn't sleep again, did you?"
He didn't answer. That was answer enough.
Inside the studio, the others were already gathered.
Iris had laid out several older diagrams, some she had recovered from a past research trip. Her notes were layered with sketches of spirals, old glyphs, and several pages filled with the same three dots in triangle formation.
Rai, Emma, Owen, Cyrus, and Marin all leaned over the table as she spoke.
"This is from a ruin site no one finished excavating," she said. "It never matched any known shrine pattern… until now."
She slid a photo forward—partially eroded wall carvings.
At the center: a faint spiral.
And just above it, barely legible:
"We worship the Three-Eyed One,
who is fragrant and who nourishes all."
The words settled over the group like fog.
Owen raised an eyebrow. "Worship? That's not something we've seen before."
Marin frowned. "The phrase… it's poetic. Sacred. Ancient."
Emma whispered, "That's not a warning. That's a prayer."
Iris tapped another diagram. "It's Sanskrit. A prayer to a divine being—one tied to death, rebirth, and unseen knowledge."
She glanced up. "That's not just a line. That's a belief system."
A pause followed.
Then Rai spoke.
"The spiral wasn't decoration. It's a seal."
All heads turned to him.
"In the dream, it didn't just glow—it spun. It was counting down."
Iris' eyes widened. "So… what if the spiral wasn't placed by one? What if it was created by three?"
"A triad seal?" Marin asked.
"Three ancient powers," Iris said. "Or three followers. Either way… it wasn't just art. It was devotion. Or containment."
Rai looked down at his hand.
The spiral beneath his skin pulsed once.
Not pain.
Just presence.
Like it heard its name for the first time in centuries.
That night, Rai left campus on the Bullet.
The clouds overhead were thick, but a single break in the sky revealed a perfect spiral of stars above him—subtle, distant, but unmistakable.
His bike engine coughed once before starting.
At the end of the block, a black car sat parked across the street.
Rai glanced back after turning the corner.
The car was gone.