The flickering oil lamp cast long shadows over the damp stone walls of the underground chamber. Aarav felt his breath grow heavy as he traced his fingers over the brittle, yellowed pages of the classified documents. Every word he read tightened the noose of disbelief around his mind.
"Operation Ashwamedh."
A mission that didn't exist in any official record. A mission that was wiped from India's history. Yet, here it was—detailed, classified, and far more sinister than anything he could have imagined.
The files spoke of a hidden force, a silent war fought in the shadows. Names of people who had "vanished" from history. Cities where strange, unexplained events had occurred. And at the center of it all—Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose.
Aarav's hands trembled as he turned the page. The next set of documents was different. Personal letters, journal entries, coded transmissions… all pointing to one terrifying truth.
Bose never died.
Meera, standing behind him, held her breath as she read over his shoulder. "This can't be real."
Aarav shook his head. "It's real. And if this leaks, India as we know it… will collapse."
Just then, a cold gust of air swept through the chamber. The door they had entered from creaked slightly. Aarav's instincts flared. He wasn't sure if it was the paranoia from what he had just discovered, but something felt off.
Meera sensed it too. "We're not alone."
Aarav quickly stuffed the documents into his backpack. His heart pounded like a war drum. If what they found here was true, it meant there were people who had dedicated their entire existence to ensuring this secret never saw daylight.
The sound of soft footsteps echoed through the tunnel.
Aarav and Meera turned towards the entrance. A shadow moved.
Then, a voice. Low, cold, and sharp as a blade.
"You weren't supposed to find this, Aarav."
Aarav's grip tightened around the straps of his bag. Meera took a cautious step back. The figure emerged into the dim light.
A tall man, dressed in black, his face hidden under a hood. But what caught Aarav's attention was the emblem stitched onto his sleeve—a symbol he had just seen in the files.
A sun. A phoenix. A sword.
It was the insignia of Operation Ashwamedh.
Aarav's blood ran cold. They had just uncovered the greatest secret in India's history.
And now… someone was here to bury them with it.