The underground hideout was suffocating in its silence. The dim yellow light buzzed above them, casting long shadows against the cracked concrete walls. Vihan drummed his fingers against the wooden table, his mind still spinning.

  Zara had made the call. Now, they waited.

  “Who exactly is this friend of yours?” Vihan finally asked.

  Zara leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Someone who knows things. Someone who has survived longer than most in this game.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Zara smirked. “That’s because I don’t like answering questions.”

  Before Vihan could push further, a faint thud echoed from above. Footsteps. A deliberate rhythm, measured and precise.

  Vihan’s muscles tensed.

  Zara, however, remained completely relaxed.

  The trapdoor creaked open, and a figure descended the steps with a confidence that spoke of experience—someone used to walking into dangerous places and leaving unscathed.

  A woman.

  She was tall, draped in a long black coat, her dark hair streaked with silver strands that caught the dim light. Her face was sharp, her eyes calculating. But what struck Vihan most was the aura she carried—like she had seen too much, survived too much.

  Zara grinned. “Vihan, meet Isha.”

  The woman—Isha—studied him for a moment before speaking. “So, you’re the boy everyone’s hunting.”

  Vihan swallowed. “Apparently.”

  Isha stepped forward, pulling a chair and sitting down across from him. “You’re carrying the Bhagavad Gita,” she stated, not a question.

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  Vihan hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”

  She exhaled, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see it again.”

  Vihan’s pulse quickened. “You’ve seen it before?”

  Isha’s gaze flickered to Zara. “You didn’t tell him?”

  Zara shrugged. “I figured it’d be more fun this way.”

  Isha sighed. “Of course you did.” She turned back to Vihan. “I knew your mother.”

  Everything in Vihan’s mind screeched to a halt.

  “You what?”

  Isha’s expression softened. “She and I worked together a long time ago. Before the Council of 9 was what it is now. Before all of this.”

  Vihan’s throat felt dry. “Then you know what happened to her?”

  Isha hesitated. “I know what she was fighting for. And I know that she knew she wasn’t going to make it.”

  Vihan’s chest tightened. “So she really is—”

  “I don’t know,” Isha cut in. “No one ever found her. No body. No proof.” She leaned forward. “But I do know one thing—if she left that book for you, then she believed you were the only one who could protect it.”

  Vihan’s hands clenched into fists. “But why? What’s in this book that the Council wants so badly?”

  Isha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The last unaltered prophecy of Kalki.”

  Vihan blinked. “I already know that. The prophecy says Kalki will return to bring balance.”

  Isha tilted her head. “Does it?”

  Zara’s smirk disappeared. “What do you mean?”

  Isha exhaled, pulling a folded piece of paper from inside her coat. She unfolded it carefully and placed it on the table. The ink was faded, the edges frayed.

  Vihan leaned in, his heart pounding as he read the words written in Sanskrit.

  "??? ???? ?????? ?????, ???? ???? ?????????

  ??? ????? ????????, ????? ?????? ?????????

  ? ???????, ? ?????, ? ?????, ????? ???????

  ?????? ? ????????, ?? ??????? ?????????"

  When the final age crumbles, when kings become tyrants, and the earth is drowned in poison…

  There will be no fragrance, no peace, no salvation—only fire.

  Kalki shall not come as a savior. He shall come as a reckoning.

  Kalki shall not bring peace. He shall bring destruction.

  Vihan’s stomach dropped.

  The prophecy wasn’t about salvation.

  It was about annihilation.

  Zara let out a low whistle. “Well… that’s not what I learned in school.”

  Vihan shook his head, struggling to process. “Why would my mother protect this?”

  Isha’s gaze was unreadable. “Because someone wants to change it.”

  The room fell into a heavy silence.

  Then Isha leaned back. “You want to save your friend?”

  Vihan’s head snapped up. “Yes.”

  Isha nodded. “Then listen carefully, boy. Because the only way you’re getting her back—”

  She tapped the book.

  “—is by walking straight into the lion’s den.”