Back to the Present
"Ahhh!" Aarav screamed, startled as the air beneath him twisted. For a moment, his focus faltered — a fatal slip in the mystery that had taken hold of him. The elevation he'd maintained moments ago had dropped abruptly. Before he could correct himself, he collided with something — a tree. Or rather, he passed through it, branches whispering around him like silent watchers.
"I have no idea how long this thing is going to keep me in the air," he muttered under his breath, frustration and disbelief blending into each word.
Aarav wore his school uniform, its neatly ironed creases now fluttering with the wind. But the one thing that truly stood out was the locket clutched tightly in his palm — a mysterious relic of unknown origin.
The locket was round, etched with a boundary of intricate silver metal, crafted in the form of a radiant sun. In its center sat a glowing red ruby, pulsing with an ethereal energy. Beneath the gem, delicate symbols were inscribed in an ancient tongue — Sanskrit — a language he recognized only vaguely from school texts. The ruby shimmered with an unnatural brilliance, as though it were breathing.
Aarav tried to pry his fingers open, to throw the object away. But his hand refused to obey — his fist tightened involuntarily, as if fused with an invisible bond stronger than steel, like it had been sealed with the strongest adhesive imaginable.
Elsewhere…
Jhunjhunu District — Devika International School
A storm was brewing — not in the sky, but inside the school campus.
"Where is my son?" Kanika Verma's voice echoed across the courtyard. Her expression was a mix of rage and anxiety, eyes darting across every face in the crowd.
Her husband, Gautam Verma, stood beside her, equally tense. His jaw clenched tightly, but he remained silent, scanning the growing crowd for answers that weren't coming.
The school grounds were a chaos of murmurs and hushed confusion. Parents, guardians, and curious students clustered in groups, all whispering the same question: Where is Aarav?
Mrs. Jyoti Shekhawat, Aarav's class teacher, was pale and shaken. She stood beside Principal Jaya Pathak, who had not left her phone since the alarm had been raised.
The clock struck 1:10 PM — over an hour since the school had dispersed at noon.
Aarav had not returned home.
"We were told all students left by 12," Kanika snapped, pacing furiously.
"I personally confirmed the early dispersal," Principal Pathak replied, trying to maintain composure, "There were no late sessions scheduled today."
"Then where is my son?" Gautam's voice was calm, but carried a simmering undercurrent of fury.
The Discipline In-Charge, Sandeep Hudda, stepped forward. "We're checking the campus again. Every classroom, every corridor. Aarav couldn't have gone far."
"But he has," Kanika said, trembling, "My son doesn't just disappear."
Head Watchman Vinod Shekhawat turned to his junior. "Check the school perimeter again. Ask the guards at Gate 2. Go to the market lane as well. Check with the street vendors. Search every corner if needed."
His voice was sharp, urgent.
The junior security guard nodded and sprinted off.
The tension in the air was suffocating. No one dared speak too loud anymore.
Even the wind had quieted.
Back in the unknown, Aarav's thoughts were spinning faster than the wind tugging at his sleeves.
This wasn't a dream. It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't anything he could rationally explain.
His heart raced — not out of fear, but confusion. And something else. A strange pull, as though the locket was guiding him.
The ruby glowed brighter with every minute, illuminating ancient carvings along its rim.
Suddenly, a cold whisper echoed around him. A whisper without a source. Without a voice.
"Return what was taken… or face the unraveling."
He turned in every direction. Nothing. Just air, sky, wind — and silence.
He wanted to scream, to ask what it meant. But something told him this wasn't the time for questions.
This was a warning.
And he was already running out of time.
Meanwhile, back at the school, tension rippled through every corner.
Principal Jaya dialed local authorities. A missing student wasn't a trivial matter.
"He was seen last near the parking lot," said one of the students hesitantly. "He was looking at something in the sky."
"What was he looking at?" Jaya asked, alert now.
"I… I don't know. He just kept staring upward. Like something was floating. Then he ran behind the admin block. And then…"
"He vanished?" whispered Mrs. Jyoti.
The student nodded.
Principal Jaya's grip tightened on her phone. "Get the local police. Now."
The school was now a boiling pot of fear and unanswered questions.
Aarav's parents stood still in the eye of the storm, holding on to each other. Somewhere between rage and helplessness.
And above them all, something ancient stirred.
Aarav's vision flickered. The sky around him began to distort.
Symbols. Glyphs. Patterns only a historian or priest would recognize — or perhaps, fear.
His body moved on its own, drawn toward a direction he didn't recognize, but his soul somehow remembered.
And the ruby in his locket pulsed one final time before his surroundings turned pitch black.
Aarav soared through the air, drifting effortlessly like a leaf on the wind. But within moments, his momentum slowed, and the invisible current that had lifted him began to lose strength. He exhaled with relief as he gently reclined midair, unsure whether to feel panic or peace.
Unbeknownst to him, he was about to cross Jaipur's city limits, nearing the boundary to another city. But Aarav wasn't paying attention to that. He floated along, clueless and curious, distracted by the locket's subtle hum against his palm.
"Alright, let me rewind and tell you how this chaos even began," Aarav suddenly said, breaking the fourth wall with a grin, eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "You're not gonna believe this."
Flashback: August 2, 2015, 12:30 PM – Last Period
The classroom buzzed with the lazy energy of the final period. Pencils tapped against desks, notebooks rustled, and the scent of summer sun baked the windowpanes.
"Bro, just tell me your number already!" Ishan whispered dramatically.
Aarav and Ishan were hunched over their notebooks, sitting at the back bench. Aarav's copy was folded into a makeshift game board, and they held their pens like players wielding swords in battle.
"Seventeen," Aarav whispered.
"Eight!" Ishan shot back, grinning.
A soft scolding voice rang out, slicing through their focus.
"Priya, stop talking!" a girl's voice rang out sternly.
Aarav glanced up.
Standing at the front was Nidhi, bespectacled, slightly plump, and as authoritative as a general in a war zone. She was the class monitor and took her job more seriously than the principal did.
Next to her sat Karthik, who had made himself quite comfortable lounging across two desks, tossing a pencil in the air and casually flirting with Nisha, a girl with the patience of a cat and the smirk of a fox.
"Karthik, this is a classroom, not your drawing room. Get off the table and help me maintain order!" Nidhi snapped.
"Oh come on, Nidhi," Karthik replied, lazily stretching, "Everyone's mind is already outside this class. Let them enjoy their last few minutes of freedom."
"Trying to reason with you is like trying to staple water," she muttered, turning to give a death glare to a pair of boys trying to sneak chips under their desks.
"Two," Ishan whispered.
"Hey, what time is it now?" Aarav asked, glancing at Nidhi.
Nidhi glanced at her watch. "Fifteen minutes till dismissal."
Suddenly, the room shifted into frenzy. Books were shut, bags unzipped, and notebooks stuffed into backpacks like squirrels hoarding nuts before winter.
"Don't make a mess! Stop the noise!" Nidhi shouted, trying to keep order as her hands flailed around like a traffic controller at a chaotic junction.
A girl zipping her backpack looked at Aarav and Ishan and teased, "You two trying to become toppers today or what?"
"Mind your own backpack," Ishan shot back with a playful glare.
Nidhi marched up to them, arms crossed. "And what, exactly, are you two so focused on?"
She leaned closer and squinted at Aarav's notebook. "Wait a second... you're playing Bingo? I thought you were solving math problems!"
"Hey, at least we weren't disturbing anyone," Aarav offered, shrugging. "We were playing silently. Peaceful, even."
"Yeah, so silent, even our grades are asleep," Ishan added.
"Exactly!" Aarav chimed in, smirking.
Nidhi rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible. "You're unbelievable. You spend more energy avoiding math than solving it. Didn't you score just two out of ten in the last quiz?"
As if on cue, Aarav's gaze drifted to the front row. Aastha, who was calmly organizing her stationery, looked up and caught him staring. Their eyes met. Aarav quickly looked away, scratching his head, ears warm with embarrassment.
"Great. Now even Aastha knows. Might as well announce it on the school speaker," he muttered in his head.
"To be fair," Ishan jumped in to save him, "Jyoti Ma'am did say that quiz was ridiculously hard. Even toppers flopped."
"Don't justify laziness with sympathy," Nidhi said, shaking her head. "You boys need a wake-up call."
Aarav leaned toward Ishan and whispered, "I'd rather sleep through it."
Just then, the classroom door opened. Jyoti Ma'am walked in, glancing at the clock.
"Alright, class. I know the day's almost done, but before you run off, a quick announcement."
All eyes turned to her. Even Karthik stopped spinning his pencil.
"Tomorrow, there will be a surprise test for Class 8A and 8B. Five marks. Prepare the topics we discussed today."
Groans exploded around the classroom.
"Ma'am! It's Friday tomorrow!" someone cried.
"Yes, and knowledge doesn't take weekends off," Jyoti Ma'am replied with a smile.
Aarav slumped into his chair. "Why do teachers always hit us with surprises like we're in a prank show?"
"Because you're always unprepared," Nidhi shot back.
"She's got a point," Aastha added softly from the front, causing Aarav's soul to momentarily leave his body.
"You too, Brutus?" he mumbled under his breath.
Ishan snorted, trying to hold in laughter. "Man, you've got it bad."
"It's not like that," Aarav said quickly, turning pink.
"It's exactly like that," Ishan said. "You looked like a deer caught in a poem."
As the bell rang, chaos erupted. Bags swung over shoulders, students flooded the corridor like water bursting from a dam. Aarav and Ishan, however, lingered.
"So, Bingo rematch tomorrow?" Ishan asked.
"Only if Nidhi doesn't assign us detention," Aarav replied.
They exchanged grins and walked out, not knowing this seemingly ordinary day was about to flip their lives upside down.
Back in the present...
Aarav floated a little lower now, arms spread like wings, his school uniform flapping in the breeze.
The locket around his neck shimmered. It was red at the center, a polished ruby encased in an ornate silver sun-shaped design. Below the gem, ancient Sanskrit characters were etched, pulsing faintly.
He tried to open his hand, to remove it. But it wouldn't budge. His fingers stayed clenched as if something invisible had glued them shut.
"What is this thing...?" he murmured.
But the mystery only grew.
Miles away, at Devika International School in Jhunjhunu, an uneasy silence had begun to spread, only broken by murmurs and the crackle of the school radio.
It was 1:25 PM.
The early dismissal at noon had brought a flood of students to their parents' vehicles or waiting buses. But one student's absence had now grown into full-blown concern.
Gautam and Kanika Verma stood just outside the principal's office, their eyes scanning every direction, hoping—praying—for their son to walk in through the gate like he always did. But with each passing minute, hope started to erode.
"I don't understand," Kanika murmured, arms crossed tightly across her body as if trying to hold herself together. "He knows the rule. Straight home after school."
"Maybe he lost track of time?" suggested a teacher gently.
"Aarav's forgetful, not careless," Gautam replied. He wasn't raising his voice, but there was steel in his tone. "And he's not one to vanish without a word."
Inside the office, Principal Jaya Pathak paced slowly, pressing her temple with her fingers. "This school has never lost a student before," she said under her breath.
Discipline Incharge Sandeep Huda spoke firmly into the walkie-talkie. "Block C, clear? Good. Now check behind the sports building. Sweep the cycle stands again. Report anything unusual."
Outside, watchman Vinod Shekhawat kept glancing at the gate. His junior guards had already spread out across nearby streets, scanning corners, tea stalls, and alleys. But there was no sign of Aarav.
Several students lingered nearby, caught between curiosity and concern.
"You don't think he ran away, do you?" one whispered.
"Nah... Aarav's not that dramatic," another said. "He's quiet, always thinking about weird stuff, but he doesn't seem unhappy."
Someone added, "Didn't he say something strange this morning? Something like—'I feel like today's gonna be different'?"
"But he says that every week," another scoffed. "Aarav's whole vibe is 'main character syndrome.'"
The murmurs continued.
And yet, no one—not even his parents—could have imagined the truth.
Aarav hadn't skipped school.
He hadn't run away.
He wasn't even on the ground anymore.
Far above the rooftops and worries of Jhunjhunu, the boy with a shimmering red gem around his neck was tumbling into a destiny that none of them could have foreseen.
And this... was just the first chapter.