When I first opened my eyes, the world was nothing but a blur. Everything I tried to focus on dissolved into red haze and distortion. I blinked, again and again, hoping my vision would clear—but it didn't.
I shifted slightly, realizing I was already leaning against something rough and massive. A tree. A giant one. My back was pressed to its trunk, and it seemed to stretch endlessly upward into the sky.
As my sight adjusted just a little, I look in my surroundings. A forest. But not a magical or peaceful one. It was silent… too silent. The trees were monstrous, their branches twisted like ancient, gnarled fingers clawing at the heavens. The light barely touched the ground here.
And then I noticed the red.
It wasn't mist. It wasn't sunset light.
It was blood. My blood.
It pooled around me, stained the earth, soaked my clothes. It dripped from my shoulders, slow and steady.
Pain flared as I tried to move. I pressed my hands against the wounds, wincing, trying to hold myself together. My vision blurred further, but I managed to glance upward. The sky glowed orange—sunset. Somehow, the world still moved on, even as I bled into its soil.
Then I heard something. Footsteps.
Someone was coming.
Panic tightened my chest. If that person saw me like this… what then? I wasn't getting a good feeling—not from the silence, not from the pain, not from the blood. I closed my eyes, a whisper in my mind: *Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how it ends.*
I tried to think of happy memories to hold onto, but the few that surfaced were too hazy, too distant. And strangely… I didn't want to remember them.
So I stopped trying.
The sound of footsteps drew closer. Then, they stopped. Someone was in front of me.
I opened my eyes slowly. The first thing I saw were feet. Bare, old feet wrapped in cloth. I tilted my head up, pain flaring again. My blurry vision could just barely make out the figure of an elderly woman leaning on a stick.
She spoke softly.
"Oh, girl… who did this to you?"
I said nothing—just stared at her, blinking, dazed. My lips refused to move. My body felt heavier by the second.
Darkness crept in.
The last thing I felt was the warmth of her hand grasping mine.
The last thing I heard:
"Can you get up, child? You need to…"
And then, everything faded.
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I opened my eyes. There was no blur anymore. Now I can see the world properly. And then I noticed,
A room. Quiet. Unknown.
I wasn't outside anymore. I wasn't bleeding. The pain was gone. The window beside me glowed with the deep amber of sunset.
*Sunset again?* I murmured, voice hoarse. "How long…?"
"You've been unconscious for five days," said a voice.
I turned. It was the old woman—the same one from the forest. She was placing a folded cloth on a wooden table.
Five days?
I blinked in disbelief. My shoulder… it didn't hurt anymore. The wounds were wrapped in soft white bandages.
She must've taken care of me.
"You were badly hurt," she said gently, as if reading my thoughts. "I brought you here because you needed help."
I nodded slowly, still absorbing everything. But a new thought troubled me—how did she carry me here? And more importantly… *where* was I?
"This isn't my city," I said aloud, looking around the room and out the window again. "It looks more like a village…"
She smiled kindly. "This isn't a village, child."
I turned back to her.
"This is a nation' capital," she said. "Trikalpur."
I frowned. *Trikalpur? A nation' capital?*
I'd never heard of it.
"Which country is it in?" I asked, still puzzled. "It more looks like an Indian village."
Her expression shifted. Surprise flickered across her face, followed by concern.
She tilted her head slightly. "Don't mind me asking, child… but did you hit your head?"
"What…?"
She continued, softly:
"There is no nation called *India*."
I blinked several times, trying to adjust, trying to understand what I'd just heard.
"There is no nation called India?"
We both stared at each other like two ghosts meeting in daylight.
*But I am a citizen of India... a vast, real nation. What is she saying?*
I decided to ask her directly. "Umm… what is the name of this planet?"
She blinked, surprised by the question. "Vajra," she said.
I looked at her, almost feeling sorry. *She's living in some fantasy*, I thought, and sighed.
Before she could say more, a voice came from the doorway.
"Amma, don't waste your time on her. Maybe she lost her brain with all that blood."
A boy stood there. Tall, black wavy hair. Beautiful—but his tongue was as sharp as his jawline.
"What?" I asked, confused. "I lost what?"
He narrowed his eyes at me and then turned to the old woman. "There's wood in the kitchen. I'm going."
Just as he was about to leave, Amma stopped him.
"Take her with you."
"What?" we both said at once.
"Because I said so," Amma replied firmly. "Wait outside."
He grumbled but obeyed, walking off with a scowl.
Amma turned to me and said gently, "You need to walk, child. You've been on that bed for five days. If you don't move now, your legs might forget how."
I nodded and tried to get down. She was right—my legs trembled like they belonged to someone older. She supported me as I stood, and I felt a strange weakness, like my strength had drained away with my blood.
She took me to a small bathroom and said, "You can wash. Take your time. And don't worry about him—he won't go without you."
I smiled slightly. *Why would I worry about him?* I thought. Then sighed and washed my face.
When I came out, Amma was waiting with folded clothes in her hands.
"These are his. For now, I have nothing else for you."
I took them, grateful. "Thank you."
She was too kind. I got dressed and stepped outside. And yes—he *was* still there, waiting.
He glanced at me and said, "You're already an hour late."
I just looked at him, choosing not to respond.
Amma called from behind us, "Before leaving, eat something."
He groaned but went straight in. I followed. I had nowhere else to go.
She had made hot kheer and handed us each a bowl. I was starving. I started eating right away.
"Thank you," I said, genuinely.
She smiled. "What is your name, girl?"
"Tarika," I replied.
"A sweet name," she said. "Tarika. Call me Amma."
I nodded.
Then she scolded the boy. "Introduce yourself."
He gave me a strange look. "Aditya."
Amma added, "You can also call him Adii."
I nodded again.
He snapped, "Why should she call me that?!"
"Keep your voice down!" Amma scolded. "You need to cooperate with everyone, my boy."
He went silent.
We finished eating and stepped out of the house.
What I saw outside was nothing like anything I had ever seen.
People—normal-looking—but everything else felt like a scene from a historical novel. No luxury shops. No cars. No planes. No honking traffic.
The roads were made of square stones, the air was unbelievably fresh. Children were playing. There were bullock carts and horse-drawn wagons.
It felt like stepping into the 17th century.
In the crowd, I noticed a girl and a boy performing in the air—floating. Giving a show to the people.
My eyes widened. "How… how is she flying?"
Adii, who was also watching, said casually, "Why can't she?"
I turned to him, stunned.
I wanted to ask him more, but held back—as far I saw, his attitude didn't invite questions.
It was getting dark now. The whole street glowed with warm lantern light.
It was… beautiful.
Later, we returned. He bought some things; I wandered a bit, trying to absorb everything.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Too many thoughts filled my head. Too many questions. And a quiet, aching desire to go home.
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In morning, I stepped outside for some fresh air.
Amma was in the kitchen. Adii looked like he was preparing to leave.
I sat under the open sky, staring upward. My heart was heavy.
*How did I even get here?
Why can't I remember?
How do I go back?*
"What are you thinking, Tarika?" Amma asked as she came beside me.
I straightened up. "Nothing, just…"
She smiled. "If you want to ask anything, go ahead."
Then she called out, "Adii, my boy, I'm out of match box. Come here."
He walked over silently. I watched him curiously.
He raised one finger—and a small flame sparked from its tip. The fire lit the wood instantly.
I stared. Stunned.
He just turned and walked away like it was nothing.
I looked at Amma, shocked.
She met my eyes and smiled knowingly. "That's his boon."
"Boon?" I whispered.
She sat beside me again. "Yes. Now the water's boiling, so let's talk for a moment…"