The morning light slipped quietly through the half-open window, spreading a soft golden warmth across the small room where a young boy lay curled beneath a thin blanket, stubbornly clinging to sleep as if the world outside could simply be ignored. Five-year-old Shiva buried his face deeper into his pillow, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the sheet while his breathing remained slow and peaceful. Outside, life had already begun—distant voices, the faint clang of utensils, and the chirping of birds blended into a gentle rhythm—but inside that room, time felt slower, softer, untouched.
From the doorway, a pair of footsteps approached, unhurried and familiar. Vinnarasi stood there for a moment, watching him with quiet affection, her arms folded as a small smile formed on her face. She stepped closer, the wooden floor creaking faintly beneath her weight, and leaned down beside him.
"Shiva…" she called gently. "Wake up."
No response.
He only turned slightly, pulling the blanket further over his head, hiding from both her voice and the morning itself.
Vinnarasi sighed, but there was no real frustration in it—only patience that came from knowing him too well. She sat beside him and tugged the blanket down just enough to reveal his sleepy face.
"Shiva, get up… school time," she said again, tapping his shoulder lightly.
He groaned in protest, eyes still closed, his face scrunching up as if the very idea offended him. "No…"
She tilted her head. "No?"
"I'm not going," he muttered, voice thick with sleep.
Vinnarasi raised an eyebrow. "You said that yesterday."
A small pause.
Then, without even opening his eyes, he replied, "Then I'll go tomorrow."
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "That's not how this works."
He didn't respond this time. Instead, he rolled over, turning his back to her completely, as if ending the conversation on his own terms.
Vinnarasi watched him for a second, then leaned closer again, her tone shifting slightly—firmer, but still warm.
"Shiva… get up."
Still nothing.
She poked his cheek.
No reaction.
She poked harder.
He swatted her hand weakly without even opening his eyes.
That made her smile.
"Fine," she muttered. "You asked for it."
Without warning, she grabbed the blanket and pulled it away completely.
Cold air rushed over him instantly.
Shiva shot up halfway, eyes still closed, face twisting in annoyance. "Akkaaa…!"
"Finally," she said, satisfied.
He rubbed his eyes aggressively, squinting at the light as if it personally betrayed him. "Why are you like this…"
"Because you won't wake up," she replied simply.
He stared at her for a long second, then narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'll go tomorrow."
She burst out laughing.
"You already used that excuse."
He crossed his arms stubbornly, still half-asleep. "Then day after tomorrow."
Vinnarasi leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, studying him like he was the most predictable person in the world.
"You're impossible," she said.
He opened one eye just enough to look at her.
"You love me."
That caught her off guard for a moment—but only for a moment.
A softer smile replaced her teasing one.
"…Yeah," she said quietly. "I do."
The room felt warmer somehow.
Calmer.
Safer.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then she reached forward and ruffled his hair.
"Now get up."
He didn't move.
"Shiva."
Still nothing.
"Shivaaa…"
He slowly laid back down again, closing his eyes like the conversation never happened.
Vinnarasi blinked.
"…Seriously?"
She leaned closer again.
"Shiva. Wake up."
Her voice echoed slightly now.
"Shiva…"
Something about it changed.
"Shiva…"
It stretched.
Felt distant.
"Shiva!"
His eyes snapped open.
The warmth shattered.
Reality crashed in.
Shiva's body jerked as he gasped for air, his lungs struggling to catch up as the warmth of the dream shattered into cold reality. The ground beneath him was rough and uneven, pressing into his back, and the air around him carried the smell of earth and broken wood. For a few seconds, his mind refused to understand where he was, still clinging to the fading image of his sister's smile. "Vinnarasi…!" he called out instinctively, his voice louder than he expected, echoing faintly through the forest around him, then he thanked "Thank you....vinnarasi akka..."
No one answered.
Only silence returned.
Then the pain hit.
A sharp, burning sensation erupted along his neck, forcing a strained gasp from his throat as his hand flew up instinctively. His fingers brushed against something hard, something embedded in his skin, and his heart skipped in confusion and fear. Slowly, he felt around it, realizing with growing horror that a jagged spike was lodged deep into the side of his neck. His breathing became uneven, panic rising in his chest as his thoughts struggled to keep up with reality.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then he clenched his teeth.
"I have to…" he whispered under his breath, forcing himself to act.
With one quick motion, he pulled the spike out.
The pain flared—
Then stopped.
Shiva froze.
There was no rush of blood.
No worsening agony.
Instead, something impossible began to happen right before his eyes. The wound… began to close. Slowly at first, then faster, the skin pulling itself back together as if time itself had reversed the injury. His fingers trembled as they hovered near the spot, unsure whether to touch it again. "…what…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, disbelief creeping into every word.
His breathing slowed, not from calm—but from shock.
He looked around.
Broken vines hung from above, snapped branches scattered across the ground, leaves crushed beneath the force of something that had clearly fallen through them. His gaze slowly lifted toward the slope above, where the path of destruction became clearer. That's when it hit him. The fall. The chase. The Minotaur. Everything came rushing back in fragments.
"I fell…these are saved me from fell..." he muttered, his voice distant.
Flashback:
While shiva was falling, the branches snaped it while shiva was fallen, then some of the vines are struck in shiva body but the vines are teared , reducing enough of speed...
Reality...:
His eyes widened slightly.
"My bones...My bone should be… broken…"
But he wasn't.
That realization unsettled him more than the fall itself.
His attention shifted to his arm.
Something felt… wrong.
Not pain.
Something deeper.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, he removed his hoodie, his fingers hesitant as if part of him already knew he wouldn't like what he saw. When his eyes finally settled on his left arm, his breath caught completely. The skin didn't look normal anymore. Darkened patterns spread beneath it, thin vein-like structures moving faintly as though something was alive under the surface, something that didn't belong to him.
"No…" he whispered, stepping back slightly.
"This isn't… me…"
He reached out and touched it, his fingers brushing against the surface carefully. It felt like skin—but not entirely. There was a strange tension beneath it, a subtle movement that made his chest tighten with fear. For the first time, the danger wasn't outside.
It was within him.
Quickly, almost in panic, he pulled his hoodie back on, covering the arm as if hiding it would somehow undo what he had seen. His breathing grew uneven again, his thoughts racing in every direction, trying to find something familiar to hold onto.
His friends.
Lakshman.
Benedict.
Aljax
Riya.
"I need to find them…I need to reunite with them..." he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
Still shaken.
Still confused.
Still afraid.
But moving.
Because whatever had changed inside him…
Whatever had saved him…
He knew one thing for certain.
He couldn't face it alone.