The man kept staring at them wide eyed and started pleading while trembling, "Please don't kill me. Hunger made me attack you all. I really don't want to die."
Parth didn't move for a moment. His eyes softened as he looked at the trembling figure before him — hungry, broken, human.
He knelt down slowly. "I don't hold any grudge against you," he said quietly. "You were only trying to survive. But tell me… what happened to this world?"
The man's breathing was ragged, his ribs showing beneath torn clothes. His gaze flickered between fear and disbelief, as though kindness was something he no longer recognized.
> "You… you don't know?"
Parth shook his head. Aarav crouched beside him, silent, while the others stood behind, wary but listening. The man let out a dry laugh, then coughed hard — blood and dust mixed on his lips.
> "Once, I belonged to a Brahman family," he began, voice cracking. "My grandfather used to recite from the Gita at dawn. My mother lit oil lamps every evening. But then… the lamps went out."
He stared at the cracked pavement, eyes hollow.
> "There are no mandirs anymore. No churches, no mosques. The world doesn't believe in bowing anymore. People say, if gods were real, they wouldn't have let us starve."
His tone turned bitter. "Now men believe in themselves — and in nothing else. Pride killed devotion. Science turned to weaponry. And the sky began to rot. And those earthquakes..."
Aarav frowned. "The earthquakes?"
The man nodded. "Everywhere. The sea swallowed cities. Deserts spread where rivers once ran. Half the animals are gone. Even the air burns. The rich built towers to live above the dust — and left the rest of us crawling below."
Sia's voice was quiet, trembling. "So people… kill each other for food?"
He looked up, his expression empty. "For food. For water. For anything."
Then his tone shifted — softer, as if remembering something old.
> "During the great war, the third one — both sides launched fire. Nuclear fire. They burned everything they could see. But when they realized they were killing even their slaves, they stopped. Still… some attacks happened again, decades later. Every few years, someone decides to 'cleanse the world' again."
Parth's fists tightened.
Neel's gaze turned downward, his jaw stiff.
> "Who rules now?" Parth asked quietly.
The man gave a humorless laugh.
> "Rulers? Hah. Only one group now — a powerful few, men and women richer than empires. They own everything. The rest of us are shadows. They fight for sport. Kill for pleasure. You don't even look them in the eye — or you disappear."
The group stood in silence, each word striking heavier than the last.
And then, unexpectedly, Sia spoke again.
Her voice was soft, but it quivered like a thread of glass.
> "What about Puri?"
The man blinked. "Puri?"
> "Yes," she said quickly, stepping closer. "The Jagannath Temple. My—" she paused, then covered it with a cough, "—it's my home. It was once my home."
The man hesitated. Something flickered behind his dull eyes.
> "Strange thing, that one," he muttered. "When the waves came and swallowed everything, that temple didn't fall. The government tried to demolish it once — a minister ordered it. They found his body the next morning, burnt black and smiling."
The air around them shifted.
Sia's eyes widened. "So it's still there?"
> "Barely," the man replied. "It's cracked, broken… but it stands. People say some strange ones live there now — monks, maybe, or madmen. There's a head priest — they call him 'Mahavir Pandit.' They say he doesn't age. That he still performs aarti every evening, even when no one comes."
A tear slipped down Sia's cheek. She turned away quickly, wiping it with her sleeve.
Parth stood up slowly, something burning behind his calm eyes.
> "Then that's where we'll go," he said firmly. "I need to meet him. I need to understand what remains."
Aarav nodded. "Puri then."
Meera looked at the man. "Do you know the way? How will he even get there?"
He pointed down the cracked street. "Go east. The main transport lines are gone, but the old coastal road still exists. Be careful — they call that zone 'The Strip.' Not many return from there."
Parth bowed his head slightly. "Thank you. You've done enough."
The man blinked again, confusion flickering in his eyes. No one had thanked him in years. He tried to smile — a small, broken curve of lips — and whispered, "Maybe… the gods haven't left after all."
They turned to leave.
Behind them, the wind howled between the towers. The bronze sky dimmed further, and the air tasted of iron.
Avni's voice broke the silence.
> "So I'll really never meet my parents again?"
No one answered. Even Sia looked away.
After a long pause, Avni let out a small, brittle laugh.
> "Well… we're free now, right? Our parents too. What's so sad about that?"
Her words wobbled. The laughter didn't reach her eyes.
Meera tried to smile back. Aarav placed a hand on her shoulder. Neel simply looked ahead, face unreadable.
And Parth… he looked at the horizon.
The distant line where the dead city met the dying sky.
> "We'll keep walking," he said softly. "As long as even one temple stands — the world hasn't ended yet."
The wind shifted again, carrying with it the faintest echo — a metallic chime, far away, like a bell trying to remember how to ring.
They began their journey east, toward Puri.
Toward the temple that refused to fall.
——