📅 Late November — Devgarh & Nandanpur
The morning was crisp, cold, and quiet. The kind of cold that seeped into bones and thoughts.
Abhay rode his scooter faster than usual, gripping the handlebars tightly. His mind replayed yesterday's avoidance, the dimming of their powers, and the silent ache of Ishanvi's eyes.
The Sudarshini flowed below the bridge — unusually still. Even the birds were silent.
Why does everything feel so wrong? he thought.
A Brush With Danger
As he neared the school gate, a stray dog dashed into the road.
Instinct took over. Abhay swerved sharply. The scooter skidded, tires biting the loose gravel.
Water in his bottle vibrated violently, rising in tiny arcs like it knew he was panicking. The bottle almost toppled.
His heart thudded painfully. He barely regained control.
Breathless, he parked his scooter at the edge of the schoolyard and leaned against it, trembling.
What am I doing? he thought. If I can't even control myself…
Ishanvi Steps In
Ishanvi's scooter pulled up beside him, her eyes wide.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He shook his head, unable to meet her gaze.
"I… I thought…" he started, then stopped. His hands were still tingling, water droplets hovering faintly above them before falling.
Ishanvi's flame reacted instantly — a warm pulse radiating from her wrist, though it was weak, dimmed. She reached out instinctively.
"Abhay… look at me," she whispered.
The water trembled in response. He swallowed. He couldn't lie to her.
"I'm… scared, Ishu," he admitted quietly, voice breaking. "Scared of losing you. Scared that if I get too close… something might go wrong. Something bad…"
Ishanvi's heart tightened. She didn't speak. Instead, she placed her hand gently on his arm.
And for the first time in days, the dim flame on her wrist brightened slightly, warming him — not just the skin, but the heart.
Nature's Subtle Warning
As they stood there, the Sudarshini murmured below. Its surface rippled unnaturally, almost as if acknowledging Abhay's fear.
The wind swirled around them in gentle arcs — not strong enough to knock leaves down, but enough to brush their hair and stir their clothes.
It wasn't violent. It wasn't angry. But it was there.
Watching. Waiting. Testing.
The Ride Home
The siblings left in their own pairs, chatting and laughing, unaware of the tension between the two eldest.
Ishanvi rode beside him quietly. Not pushing. Not scolding. Just present.
Abhay kept stealing glances at her. He wanted to tell her everything — about the fear, about the powers, about the weight he felt when she was near.
But the words refused to come.
Still, the water in his bottle rippled faintly. The flame on her wrist pulsed softly.
Even apart, even scared, even uncertain… They were still connected.
The Unspoken Truth
That night, alone in her room, Ishanvi wrote in her diary:
"We're scared. He's scared. I'm scared. But even when the world tries to pull us apart… even when nature tests us… I feel him. And he feels me. That's stronger than fear."
Across the village, Abhay stared at the river from his balcony, whispering to himself:
"I won't let anything happen to her. Not nature. Not fate. Not even me."
And far below, the Sudarshini flowed silently, its voice low and constant — a reminder that the balance was delicate, and that the river, the wind, and the sky were all waiting.