Mist swallowed the forest whole.
It clung to the trunks of ancient trees like pale ghosts refusing to leave. It rolled across the river's surface in slow, drifting waves, muting the world into an eerie, suffocating silence. It was as though the forest itself was holding its breath, terrified to disturb what lay broken at its heart.
No birds sang. No insects buzzed. Not a single leaf dared to move.
Near the riverbank, where the mud met the water and the earth dipped low as if bowing in grief, a body lay still.
Mokshit.
He was half-buried in wet soil, one side of his body soaked by the slow-moving river. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes were torn and darkened with a sickening mixture of blood and silt. He looked smaller than he ever had before—not like a hero, not like a guardian, but like a boy who had given everything and been crushed for his efforts.
His armor was shattered beyond recognition. Fragments of bark and vine were scattered around him like the remains of a fallen legend. His mask, the symbol of his courage, lay in two pieces beside his head, cracked straight through the center. Nature itself had been unable to protect him.
His breathing was so faint it was almost impossible to tell if he was still alive. Only a dim, flickering green glow pulsing weakly beneath his sternum—like the final ember of a dying fire—proved that life had not yet abandoned him.
Far away, frantic voices cut through the fog.
"MO-KSHIIIIT!!"
Rohan's shout tore through the mist, raw with a panic that echoed between trees that gave no answer. "BRO, ANSWER ME!! PLEASE!!"
Branches cracked as they ran, feet pounding against roots and wet earth. Nikhil stumbled beside him, clutching his phone with shaking hands, his face pale. "He's not picking up… his phone is dead… what if—" His voice broke. "What if he—"
"DON'T SAY IT!" Rohan snapped, his eyes red and wild. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT!"
Meera ran a few steps ahead, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Her heart was hammering so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts—until she stopped. Completely.
Slowly, she raised a trembling hand. "…Rohan," she whispered, her voice barely a sound. "…Nikhil… look."
They turned. And the world stopped.
Meera's legs gave out as she fell to her knees, the air leaving her lungs in a broken sob. Rohan staggered forward, his body refusing to believe what his eyes were seeing.
Meera reached him first. She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him with desperate, trembling hands. "Mokshit! Wake up! Please—please wake up!"
There was no response.
Rohan dropped beside them, his face twisting into a mask of grief. "BRO—GET UP! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
Nikhil collapsed next to them, his hands buried in the mud as his shoulders shook violently. "I-it's my fault," he sobbed. "I joked… I wasn't there when he needed us—"
Rohan grabbed Nikhil by the collar, yanking him forward. "HE'S NOT DEAD! HE CAN'T BE!!"
Meera pressed her ear to Mokshit's cold chest, begging the universe for a sign. Then, she heard it. A heartbeat. Weak. Irregular. But there.
Her breath hitched. "He's alive," she whispered, hope and terror tangled together. "But he's so weak… he's fading."
Rohan wiped his eyes, his voice turning low and firm. "We have to save him. Now."
"We can't take him to a hospital," Meera said quickly, her mind racing. "Nirmul owns the city. They'll take him away."
Nikhil looked up, his eyes widening. "The elders… they used to talk about a place. A secret place deep inside the forest. The Spirit Grove."
"Where nature's energy is pure," Meera added, her eyes filling with sudden determination. "Where the forest heals itself. If anything can save him… it's that place."
Rohan didn't hesitate. He slid his arms under Mokshit, lifting him as gently as if he were made of glass. "Then let's go. We're not losing him today."
EXT. SPIRIT GROVE – SUNRISE
They reached a place the world had forgotten. It was a valley untouched by corruption, where a waterfall cascaded into a crystal-clear pool with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Trees stood tall, etched with glowing patterns, and fireflies drifted like floating lanterns.
At the center lay an altar woven from massive, glowing roots. As they stepped onto it, the ground vibrated, recognizing the burden they carried.
Rohan laid Mokshit down. Instantly, the grove reacted. Vines rose from the roots, wrapping around Mokshit's limbs and chest—not to restrain him, but to cradle him.
"Is it working…?" Nikhil whispered.
Meera took Mokshit's cold hand, her tears dripping onto his skin. "Mokshit… you idiot," she whispered. "You promised you'd stay safe."
"Get up, bro," Rohan said, his jaw tight. "We still need you."
Then, the grove exploded.
Green energy surged from the earth in a blinding wave. The air hummed with a thousand whispers. "...Guardian... return..."
A beam of golden-green light shot from the heart of the grove directly into Mokshit's chest. He gasped. His fingers twitched.
"Mokshit?" Meera cried.
His lips moved, a dry rasp. "…M-Meera…?"
She broke completely, sobbing with relief. "Yes! I'm here!"
The grove glowed brighter. "Awaken… Child of Earth."
A shockwave of pure life energy erupted, clearing the mist for miles. Mokshit's eyes snapped open. They weren't just green anymore; they were a brilliant, ancient white-green.
New armor began to form—thicker, more intricate, shimmering with the golden light of the Spirit Grove. He landed gently on his feet, his presence now feeling like a mountain rather than a boy.
He looked at his hands, then at his friends. The fear was gone. In its place was a calm, terrifying resolve.
"I won't lose again," Mokshit said.
The forest hummed in thunderous agreement. Nature-Man had been reborn, and this time, the earth was standing right behind him.