Aarav stood suspended in mid-air, a strange emptiness beneath his feet and an unforgiving sun burning above his head. Sweat trickled down his temples, and his eyes narrowed against the blinding light.
"Man, I don't even know how long I'm going to keep floating like this..." Aarav muttered with growing frustration, almost as if speaking to himself—or perhaps to us.
(Yes, I'm talking to you, dear reader. You think this is fun? Try floating above your city like a kite in a dust storm with the sun smirking right at your face.)
Aarav exhaled sharply and looked around. "Look, flying in the air—it's the dream of every living being. That's why someone invented the airplane, right? Sailing through water? Boom! Boats. Running like a cheetah? Voila—cars. But this... whatever this is... this isn't flying. This is a cursed version of flying!"
He was hovering, unwillingly, and it wasn't the kind of flight superheroes braved or dreamers fantasized about. He hadn't eaten anything. Not a sip of water. And yet, here he was—being dragged through scorching sunlight while the dry wind slapped his face with tiny specks of grit.
"My face feels like it's turning into parchment!" he cried, shielding his eyes.
Suddenly, a strange green light blinked in the sky—not a sun reflection, not an aircraft signal. Something... else.
"Okay, who installed a building that big up there?" Aarav squinted.
The green light flashed again, almost like a code. Was it manmade? Or something... elemental? The glow intrigued him. It blinked with rhythmic certainty, far too precise for nature, and yet there was an ancient energy pulsing within it.
As he watched, sunlight struck his eyes again. Aarav raised his hand instinctively, blocking the glare. When he opened his eyes, the sky had changed.
Dark clouds had gathered all around. The brightness had shifted to gloom, and from that veil of gray, a single bolt of lightning slashed the air, striking barely a meter ahead of him.
(No, you didn't misread. One. Meter. In front. Imagine a celestial sword landing inches away from your nose. Exciting? Or terrifying? You decide.)
Aarav stared, wide-eyed, heart hammering—not from fear, but sheer disbelief. He watched the bolt retreat back upward in reverse motion, almost like time was glitching. His mouth opened in astonishment.
"Okay, okay... this is insane. Like, bhains ki... okay, I promised myself not to use bad language. But you get the point!"
He was too stunned to move. "This must mean it's going to rain in the city," he guessed.
But something in him stirred—a memory. The rainy days back home. When the streets overflowed and he'd float paper boats in the puddles. Power would go out, candles would light the room, and his mom would cook hot pakoras in the kitchen. The roof, made of simple slabs instead of concrete, would drip, and they'd put buckets underneath to collect the leak.
(Yes, I know. Nostalgia hits at the weirdest moments. Even when you're suspended in the sky while nature runs a thriller show.)
Suddenly, another flash. But this one was closer.
Electricity zapped his hand. Aarav screamed—not in pain but in pure shock.
"I think... I think my hand got struck!" he exclaimed, examining his fingers. Strangely, there were no burns. No red marks. No tree-root-shaped scars like the ones you see in documentaries.
"How... how is that even possible?"
Then, a low hum vibrated through the air. A green mist began to form in the sky, spinning like a cyclone. Slowly, almost lazily, it drew toward Aarav, and then with ferocious suddenness, it pulled him like a rag doll.
"Okay—WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" he shouted.
The vortex was unnatural. Its suction power was stronger than any vacuum, more terrifying than any airplane engine.
His body shook violently as if a massive force had overtaken his very essence. His limbs trembled not from cold, but from an unnatural vibration.
You think this is a joke, don't you? Reader, are you still sipping coffee while reading this? Pause. Imagine you're floating, being sucked into a sky cyclone made of green fog, lightning, and the whispers of a thousand unknown voices. Yeah. Not so cozy anymore, is it?
His arms began to twitch. His legs spasmed. And his spine—well, let's just say it felt like ice was running down it.
His scream echoed through the endless sky.
And then… nothing.
Silence.
No wind. No light. No gravity.
Just darkness.
Aarav blinked, floating in a black void. But he wasn't falling. Or rising. He was… suspended in time.
From the darkness, a spark ignited. Then another. Like neurons firing in a cosmic brain. A shape formed—translucent and pulsing. A symbol? A rune?
"Where am I?" Aarav asked, breathless.
And then he heard it.
A voice—not loud, not soft. Ancient. Familiar yet unknowable.
"You are at the edge of awakening."
"Edge of what now?"
(Okay, I know that sounds ominous, but trust me, I'm just as confused as you. No, I didn't sign up for this when I got on my bicycle this morning.)
"Who said that?"
No answer.
The rune expanded, glowing more intensely. A thread of green light burst from it, racing straight toward Aarav.
"Wait! I don't even have a license for this level of mystery!"
The light hit him squarely. A surge of images flooded his brain. Faces. Creatures. Worlds.
And then… silence again.
Aarav gasped and opened his eyes. He was standing in a dense forest now. The sky above him glowed turquoise. Giant trees loomed, their leaves whispering secrets in a language he couldn't understand.
Birds—no, not birds. Feathered things with glowing tails—flew across the sky. The ground beneath him felt... alive.
"I'm in another world."
He looked around, spinning slowly.
"Okay, reader—welcome to Phase Two. Things just got real."
(And yes, I'm still figuring this out. But if I'm going through this, you're coming with me. No turning pages back. We ride this story to the end.)
When Aarav opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the dusty earth below—a sandy terrain, the kind found only in desert regions.
And he was floating—being carried through the air.
After nearly an hour of soaring across the skies, distant silhouettes began to emerge. The buildings looked aged, worn by time. These structures seemed to belong to an era of kings and warriors, perhaps centuries old.
Below, a group of camels was being led by an elderly man wearing a traditional white turban. The sight felt surreal, like a page from ancient Rajasthan's history.
Confused, Aarav tried to place the location.
"Is this Ajmer? Bikaner? Jodhpur? Or maybe Jaisalmer?" he wondered, scanning the surroundings.
He floated further into what looked like a public market area.
"Seems like a bazaar," he murmured.
The narrow road was lined with small shops on both sides. People walked leisurely, and shopkeepers stood outside their stores. Power poles stood tall, carrying old-fashioned lines that hummed gently. Among the crowd, he spotted a few cycles and rickshaws, and only a rare glimpse of a motorbike—no modern scooters, nothing high-tech.
"Which city is this? It looks like it hasn't evolved in decades!" Aarav muttered in disbelief.
Still hovering, Aarav narrowly missed colliding with a massive, ancient haveli. He exhaled in relief but soon realized he was surrounded by several similar structures—each one a majestic yet fading monument of the past. He landed softly on the rooftop of one such haveli.
Its faded paint hinted that it had been repainted at least eight to ten times. Aarav recalled visiting Jodhpur during a school trip, where he had seen similar architecture—though none quite as mysterious.
Suddenly, a rhythmic beat echoed through the silence. It was a dholak, followed by the soft jingling of anklets.
The sounds felt familiar.
He immediately recognized the pattern. In school, he'd often overheard the dance teacher guiding students through classical Indian Kathak routines.
Then, two voices emerged from the shadows—deep, hushed conversations. Aarav tensed. Instinctively, he backed away, hiding behind a pillar just in time.
Peeking around cautiously, he saw a man in a turban and traditional attire enter a room. Aarav breathed a sigh of relief. But a strange thought struck him—
"Did I move on my own… or did I simply think about it?"
"Wait... if my thoughts can change my direction, why didn't I just think of home? Why didn't I fly there instead?" he questioned, regret flickering in his mind.
He noticed something unusual about the rooftop. Though technically airborne, he was now only about three feet above the haveli. He hadn't touched the ground since this journey began.
The roof itself had a unique design—two pillars held up a partial overhang, a style prominent in old Rajasthani constructions. But between the pillars, something odd stood out.
A crimson cloth was tied between them—ordinary at first glance.
But Aarav wasn't an ordinary observer anymore.
Hovering mid-air, breaking the fourth wall of reality, he saw something others could not. Between those pillars lay an invisible wall, etched in ancient Sanskrit. Mantras. Symbols. Cosmic patterns.
Twelve zodiac signs, nine planetary seals, and seven astral stars revealed themselves. The five elements—fire, water, air, space, and earth—glowed in mystical formation.
As the sigils aligned, a circular vortex began to spin at the center. Aarav watched in awe.
But suddenly, the invisible wall surged forward—pulling him with force.
He gripped the pillar behind him, resisting the pull. But the force was relentless—stronger than any airplane engine's suction—twenty times stronger, perhaps.
He was dragged toward the mysterious force, slammed against the unseen barrier. But it didn't hurt. It wasn't like hitting stone. It felt more like passing through a fiery veil or a mystical gate.
The invisible wall consumed him—pulling him inward.
"It felt like being swallowed by quicksand… no escape, no control."
And then, he burst through it.
The moment his finger crossed the boundary, a surge of velocity gripped him. His speed multiplied—faster than anything he'd experienced before. It was like being shot from a cannon.
He darted forward—vision blurring—until a massive stone hill loomed ahead. Aarav instinctively redirected his path, narrowly avoiding a water body, only to crash against a towering boulder. The impact launched him two kilometers away, crashing into a mountain of soft earth.
The collision carved a deep crater.
He staggered up—ten meters from the center, four feet above the ground.
One could only imagine how catastrophic the landing might have been had the rocks not slowed him down.
What hidden force or ancient power lies beyond the invisible wall that pulled Aarav in—and why is he the only one who can see it?
Is Aarav trapped in a forgotten era or a parallel realm—and can he uncover the truth before it's too late to return home?