The jungle was alive with whispers.
Aarav and Meera moved quickly, guided only by the dim glow of the moon above the treetops. The water from the tunnel still clung to their clothes, and every branch they pushed aside felt like it was fighting back.
Aarav kept glancing over his shoulder. But there was no sign of Major Aryan.
He was gone.
Sacrificed.
The silence between him and Meera was heavy. No words could cover what they'd just escaped. No words could explain what they'd lost.
But there was no time to grieve.
Because the truth they were carrying… was bigger than everything.
"Where do we go now?" Meera finally whispered.
Aarav didn't answer right away. He pulled out the map Aryan had given them just before they entered the tunnel. It was stained, torn, but still legible.
"There's an old rebel safe house. Five kilometers north of here. He marked it." Aarav traced the spot with his finger. "We reach there, regroup, and figure out our next move."
"But what if they find us?" Meera asked.
"They will," Aarav replied. "It's not about if anymore. It's when."
They moved in silence.
The jungle wasn't kind. Thorns scratched their skin. Insects buzzed around them. And the air felt thick with something unnatural—like the forest knew they weren't supposed to be there.
After two hours of walking, the trees parted slightly.
A wooden cabin stood hidden among dense vines. Its roof was half-collapsed. Windows boarded. Nature had almost claimed it.
But this was the place.
Aarav knocked three times on the side panel—just like Aryan told him. Then once more.
Nothing.
Silence.
Then, a metallic click.
A wooden panel slid open at the back of the cabin, revealing a narrow staircase descending underground.
They stepped in without a word. The door slid shut behind them.
Inside, dim emergency lights lit up a long concrete bunker. There were dusty crates, a broken radio, and maps pinned on the walls—maps of old British-era underground routes, rebel hideouts, and secret military channels.
A voice came from the shadows.
"You made it."
Aarav froze.
From the far corner, an old man stepped out. Grey beard. Eyes sharp like knives. He wore a long coat, covered in patches and symbols.
"You're…?"
"Captain Rudra. Last surviving member of the original Azad Hind Fauj intel unit," he said. "Aryan trusted you with the mission. So do I."
Meera stepped forward. "Do you know what happened to him?"
Captain Rudra looked down. His silence said everything.
"He stayed behind," Aarav muttered. "So we could bring the truth out."
Rudra nodded slowly. "Then we better not waste it."
He walked to a locker and pulled out a sealed briefcase.
"This is what Aryan risked his life for," Rudra said, handing it to Aarav. "Inside this… is the missing piece. The part the government buried. The part that proves Bose never died… and why."
Aarav opened the briefcase.
Inside were tapes, letters, and an old rusted medal. But what caught his eye—was a single photo.
A photo of Netaji.
Standing with two other men.
And one of them… was a young version of the very Prime Minister who had declared Bose dead decades ago.
Meera gasped. "That's… that's impossible."
"No," Rudra said. "That's the truth."
Aarav looked up. "What do we do now?"
"You leave India."
"What?" Aarav blinked.
"You go to Myanmar. Aryan set up a meeting there—someone who still works inside the government. Someone who's kept the files hidden for years. If you reach him, you expose everything. And if you fail…" Rudra paused. "Then Aryan died for nothing."
Aarav stared at the briefcase. It felt heavier now.
He didn't want to be a hero.
He never signed up for this.
But now… he didn't have a choice.
"Okay," he said. "We'll go."
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life.
"Unit Z calling all agents. Target confirmed near Sector 13. Engage with extreme prejudice."
Rudra's face darkened.
"They've tracked you."
"Already?" Meera asked.
"They must've planted something on you. A tracker," Rudra said. "We have ten minutes."
He pulled a hidden lever. A secret panel opened in the floor.
"Take the underground bike. It leads you straight to the river. After that, you're on your own."
Aarav and Meera didn't argue.
They climbed down, straddled the two-seat escape bike, and with one last nod to Rudra, vanished into the tunnel.
As they disappeared into the darkness, Rudra turned to face the door.
Footsteps approached.
He lit a cigarette.
And waited.