Chief Yarul had been speaking for hours, his voice worn and trembling.
But suddenly, in the present, his breath caught.
He started coughing violently.
Kasha jumped to his feet.
"Surbhi!"
Surbhi rushed inside from the corridor, her face pale.
Chief Yarul's old wound had reopened.
Blood soaked the bandages again, spreading fast across the blankets.
Surbhi pressed her fingers to his pulse.
"His vitals are fine," she said quickly. "He fainted because of exhaustion. I'll stitch it again."
Her hands moved fast, threading the needle, sealing the wound with precise, practiced motions.
Within minutes, the bleeding slowed, then stopped.
Surbhi exhaled and began to step outside—
But Kasha grabbed her wrist gently.
"I'm sorry."
His voice cracked.
Surbhi turned sharply, anger in her eyes.
"Kasha… how dare you twist my wrist like that earlier?"
She crossed her arms. "Kaan pakad ke maafi maango. Right now."
Kasha blinked… then laughed softly.
He raised both hands to his ears.
"I'm sorry."
"No," Surbhi said, irritated. "Uthak–baithak bhi lagao."
Kasha actually did squats, holding his ears.
Her anger melted a little.
She sighed. "Okay. Enough."
They were both exhausted—neither had eaten all day.
Surbhi gently placed her hand on Kasha's arm.
"Let's go home. You need food. And rest."
Kasha shook his head. "I'm fine."
She gave him that look.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Let's go."
On the way home, villagers stopped them repeatedly.
"Kasha, how is the Chief?"
"Is he stable?"
"Will he survive?"
Kasha reassured each one with a calm nod.
"He's resting. Don't worry."
By the time they reached home, the sun had begun to dip.
Surbhi prepared food quietly—warm goat stew—and they sat together at the small table.
But neither spoke.
Until Surbhi finally snapped.
"What now? You're just going to sit silently? At least say something. Where does all this anger come from?"
Kasha took a long breath… and told her everything.
Luka's words.
The interrogation.
Yarul's reaction.
The 60-year-old story of Zin and the cursed tiger.
Surbhi listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she shook her head.
"Kasha… Luka must be mistaken. Your name—your life—has nothing to do with that old story."
Kasha stared at the floor.
"Maybe not the past," he said quietly. "But the Chief said… he always knew this day would come. That I had to know something."
Surbhi frowned thoughtfully.
"Do you remember anything about your parents? Anything at all? The house? Their faces? Their belongings?"
Kasha shook his head slowly.
"No.
Just that the house they lived in caught fire.
The ruins behind the Chief's house… that's where we lived.
That's all I know."
Surbhi leaned forward.
"Have you ever gone there?"
"Yes," he whispered. "Whenever I miss them. Even though it's just broken stones now."
He paused. "I have a key. To that old house. But what's the point of a key… when the house doesn't exist anymore?"
Surbhi asked so you want ho there today, Kasha replied "Yes."
"Kasha," she said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder, "I'm coming with you today and I will be there for you forever."
They slept a few hours—just enough to gather strength.
By evening, they walked toward the ruins, where the remains of Kasha's childhood home stood cold and broken.
Night fell quickly.
Kasha lit a roadside torch and held it high as they stepped through the fractured doorway.
The air smelled of burnt wood, old memories, and silence.
Kasha moved slowly, touching the walls, the charred stones, the broken beams.
He could almost hear faint echoes—
His mother's voice.
His father's laughter.
Children running.
Surbhi stayed close, her hand resting on his back supportively.
"Everything will be okay," she whispered.
Kasha nodded and walked toward a half-burnt table—the last place his father used to work.
The drawer hung open, half-burnt but still intact.
Kasha pulled it.
Inside were half-charred wooden notes, carved with strange symbols.
He lifted them carefully.
And suddenly—
a hidden compartment inside the drawer clicked open.
Surbhi's eyes widened.
"Kasha… look!"
Inside was a keyhole.
Small. Metallic. Ancient.
Surbhi whispered, "Is this for your key?"
Kasha's breath hitched.
"Stay here," he said, and dashed out of the ruins.
He sprinted all the way home—
grabbed the old key—
and ran back to Surbhi.
He slid the key into the hole.
Click.
The table shifted—
and a second secret compartment opened beneath.
Inside lay 6–7 strange metal pieces.
Smooth.
Cold.
Beautiful.
And utterly alien.
Not tools.
Not weapons.
Not anything he had seen before in this age.
"What are these…?" Surbhi murmured.
Kasha lifted them slowly, examining their shapes.
"They were hidden," he said. "Why? If they were nothing special… why lock them away?"
They took the pieces home.
Kasha tried to fit them together—
but they didn't match, didn't form a shape, didn't resemble anything known.
"We'll figure it out," Surbhi said, placing her hand on his.
Before he could reply—
A guard burst inside.
"Kasha!" he yelled. "Chief Yarul… has regained consciousness!"
Surbhi and Kasha exchanged a tense look—
and rushed to the hospital.