Vicky Dahiya's world had widened again. No longer confined to the nursery, he now crawled and stumbled across broader spaces, every movement an experiment. Sunlight slanted through the windows differently each morning, casting shifting shadows across the floor, and he watched them with fascination. His fingers reached out instinctively to follow the light, tracing the edges, memorizing the angles. Patterns, shapes, sequences—they were all fragments of stories waiting to be understood.
His human memories flavored every observation. He remembered the thrill of solving mysteries in TV shows, the tension of a plot twist, the satisfaction of seeing outcomes unfold exactly as predicted. Now, as a toddler, he applied that same instinct to the world around him. A creaking floorboard meant someone was coming; the swish of a curtain hinted at the wind. Everything was a story, and Vicky could already read it in ways adults never noticed.
Meals and play became laboratories for experimentation. Dropping a spoon, tipping a cup, or rolling a ball across the floor were not just actions—they were lessons in cause and effect. He noted how the caregivers reacted, which gestures prompted attention, and which tones elicited laughter or gentle correction. By observing, anticipating, and testing, he slowly began understanding influence—the first steps toward mastering interaction, even without language.
Sound fascinated him as much as sight. The soft patter of rain on the window, distant footsteps in the hallway, the whisper of the wind through a half-open door—each was a signal, a pattern to be cataloged. He noticed differences in tone, rhythm, and volume, instinctively predicting events before they happened. When a caregiver approached silently, he would pause mid-step, eyes alert, observing until the presence revealed itself.
Books and pictures, once toys for amusement, now sparked recognition. He remembered stories from his past life and saw parallels in illustrations, noticing character placement, lighting, and sequence. Even as a toddler, he could anticipate events in simple picture books before turning the page. Patterns fascinated him more than colors or shapes; sequences, cause and effect, rules—these were his playground.
Every day brought new lessons. He explored textures, weights, and distances with deliberate care, sometimes pausing to re-examine an object that had caught his attention before. Shadows stretching across the room became more than shapes—they were clues to the world's structure. The patterns of light and movement fascinated him as much as any story he had ever watched on screens.
Interactions with adults were equally revealing. He noticed the microexpressions, the quick gestures, and the tone of voices. A smile might conceal impatience; a soft word might hide distraction. Though his body was small, his mind cataloged these details, understanding subtle human behavior in ways his caregivers could never guess. Each interaction built a framework for navigating the social world he would soon enter more fully.
Even the night held lessons. The moonlight sliding across the floor painted abstract patterns that shifted hourly. Shadows stretched, objects appeared to move, and Vicky watched intently, sensing rules beneath the chaos. Something in the rhythm of darkness and light whispered of mystery, challenge, and hidden structure. His instincts, sharpened by memory, urged caution and observation; his curiosity pushed him forward.
By the time he neared his third year, Vicky's awareness had grown more deliberate. Crawling had become walking, stumbling had become careful steps, and his small experiments were no longer random—they were guided by observation, anticipation, and a quiet, growing understanding of the world's patterns.
Though he could not yet speak of the mysteries he noticed, he began to anticipate sequences: the swing of a door, the placement of objects, even the moods of those around him. Every detail mattered. Shadows, light, sound, and human behavior were all part of a vast story, and he was learning to read it.
In the quiet moments, Vicky would pause, resting on the carpet, eyes tracking the shifting sunlight across the walls. The world was strange, unpredictable, and yet full of patterns. Somewhere in the distance, hints of something more—strange events, mysteries waiting to unfold—called to him. Though he did not know it yet, his path would soon lead him to a place where these instincts, memories, and observations would matter in ways he could not imagine: Nevermore Academy, a school of secrets, shadows, and learning beyond the ordinary.
For now, he explored, observed, and learned. Every shadow, every sound, every gesture was a thread, a clue, a story. And though he was still small, still young, Vicky Dahiya had already begun to understand that he was not merely living this life—he was reading it, analyzing it, and preparing for all the chapters yet to come.