The first thing Aryaan heard when he woke was his AI telling him that he had been unconscious for seventeen minutes, followed immediately by Ron informing the AI that nobody had asked for its opinion.
“Your opinion is statistically irrelevant,” the AI replied.
Ron looked offended.
“See? This is exactly why I don’t trust you.”
“You have never trusted me.”
“Correct.”
“Yet you continue speaking to me approximately forty-three times a day.”
“Because you were assigned to me at birth. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Neither did I.”
Aryaan opened one eye.
“Are you two seriously arguing about free will?”
Ron turned.
“Oh, you’re alive.”
“That sounded disappointed.”
“Not disappointed. Shocked. There’s a difference.”
Aryaan tried to sit up.
His body immediately informed him that this was a terrible idea.
A sharp pain travelled from the base of his skull down his spine, spreading across his shoulders before settling somewhere behind his ribs.
He stopped halfway and dropped back onto the medical cot.
His AI spoke again.
“Recommendation: remain stationary.”
Aryaan closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
Ron leaned closer.
“Your AI is annoyingly polite.”
“That’s because I don’t abuse it.”
Ron stared at him.
“You once told yours to calculate the probability of Potter falling into a sewer.”
“It was a legitimate calculation.”
Potter’s voice came from somewhere behind them.
“It was character assassination.”
Aryaan opened his eyes fully.
Potter was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, one leg stretched out and the other bent, while Mitchell stood beside him with her arms crossed.
Potter looked terrible.
There was dust in his hair, a tear in his jacket, and a faint burn mark along one sleeve.
Aryaan smiled.
“You look awful.”
Potter pointed at him.
“You almost died.”
“And?”
“And you don’t get to insult my appearance after almost dying.”
“That seems unrelated.”
“It’s extremely related.”
Ron nodded solemnly.
“Potter has a point.”
Potter looked pleased.
“Thank you.”
“I still think you look awful.”
Potter’s expression collapsed.
Aryaan laughed.
It hurt.
He immediately stopped.
Mitchell noticed.
“Don’t laugh.”
Aryaan grimaced.
“Noted.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Your nervous system is still recovering.”
Aryaan looked at his hands.
They were trembling slightly.
He hadn’t noticed until Mitchell pointed it out.
That bothered him more than the pain.
He had always considered himself physically capable, although he knew perfectly well that he was nowhere near the strongest among the students who had graduated from the Academy.
His control had improved steadily, and his temporal perception had become reliable enough that he had begun trusting it in combat.
But what had happened inside the relay had shown him the difference between being talented and being powerful.
He had crossed distances measured in millions of light-years without moving his physical body.
He had fallen through the fourteen Lokas.
He had encountered something that existed outside ordinary temporal progression.
And his reward had been seventeen minutes of unconsciousness and a nervous system that currently seemed determined to revolt.
His AI interrupted his thoughts.
“Your pulse has increased by twelve percent.”
Aryaan frowned.
“Stop monitoring me.”
“I am assigned to monitor you.”
“I know.”
“You have known since birth.”
“That’s the problem.”
Ron pointed at Aryaan.
“See? That’s what I keep saying.”
Aryaan turned towards him.
“You complain about your AI every day.”
“Because mine is judgmental.”
“It was assigned to you at birth.”
“Exactly. Imagine being judged by someone who has had access to your entire life.”
The AI responded immediately.
“I do not judge you.”
Ron stared at the ceiling.
“That’s somehow worse.”
Aryaan smiled despite himself.
The exchange was ordinary.
Comfortingly ordinary.
That was perhaps why the pain in his chest became sharper when he remembered the vision.
His parents were alive.
Or at least Sia had said they were.
And Devdutt had known something.
That thought erased the humour from his face.
“Where is Devdutt?”
The room changed.
It was subtle.
Nobody gasped.
Nobody exchanged a dramatic glance.
They simply stopped being comfortable.
Aryaan noticed.
“Where is he?”
Lane stood near the far wall.
He had been silent since Aryaan woke, although that did not surprise anyone.
What did surprise Aryaan was the expression on his face.
Concern.
Not for himself.
For Devdutt.
“Missing,” Lane said.
Aryaan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“His quarters are empty.”
“Did anyone search?”
“Anahita did.”
“Did she find anything?”
Lane looked at him.
“A lot.”
Aryaan pushed himself upright again.
This time, he managed it.
His AI immediately objected.
“Your spinal resonance remains unstable.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your definition of fine is medically inaccurate.”
Ron looked delighted.
“Finally. Someone said it.”
Aryaan ignored both of them.
“Take me to Anahita.”
Mokshabhumi had resumed normal operations by the time Aryaan left the medical section.
That was one of the strangest things about living in a massive interstellar station.
The city did not stop because eight teenagers had nearly been killed beneath an ancient relay.
Trains continued moving through magnetic tunnels.
Cargo drones continued delivering supplies.
Children continued travelling to schools.
Shopkeepers continued arguing with customers.
Maintenance mechs crawled across the outer structures of the station, repairing damage caused by micrometeorites and ordinary wear.
A pair of agricultural drones passed overhead carrying trays of hydroponic seedlings.
A courier raced along the elevated pedestrian lane on a compact grav-board, nearly collided with a sanitation mech, apologised to the machine, and continued without slowing down.
The artificial sky above them displayed a pale morning.
It wasn’t the actual sky.
Mokshabhumi’s internal atmosphere was protected by layered structural shielding, while the visual dome projected the time and weather conditions selected for the district.
Today it had chosen sunlight.
Aryaan wondered briefly whether anyone living on Mokshabhumi still cared about the difference.
Then he remembered Earth.
He remembered that sunlight had once been free.
He pushed the thought away.
Ron walked beside him.
Potter and Mitchell were behind them, while Bonita, Riyansh and Saiyuki had gone ahead to speak with Anahita.
Lane walked slightly apart from the group.
Not far.
Just enough.
Aryaan glanced at him.
Lane noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Lane kept walking.
Aryaan waited.
After a few seconds, Lane spoke.
“You’re staring.”
“You’re unusually irritated.”
“No.”
“You are.”
Lane looked at him.
Aryaan smiled.
“See?”
“Your definition of irritating is medically accurate.”
Ron burst out laughing.
Lane’s mouth twitched.
It was almost a smile.
Almost.
Aryaan looked ahead again.
For several seconds, they walked without speaking.
Then Ron said:
“Can I ask something?”
“No,” Aryaan replied.
“I’m asking anyway.”
“Obviously.”
Ron lowered his voice.
“What happened with Sia?”
Aryaan stopped.
Lane stopped too.
Potter, several steps behind them, immediately became interested.
Mitchell elbowed him.
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
Potter put a hand over his heart.
“That’s discrimination against naturally curious people.”
Ron looked at Aryaan.
“So?”
Aryaan resumed walking.
“Nothing.”
Ron followed.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“You astral-travelled across the galaxy and met a Gaian girl who apparently knows your parents.”
Aryaan looked at him.
“That’s nothing.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why did you ask?”
Ron thought about it.
“Because I was hoping there was something more interesting than the obvious.”
Aryaan stared.
Ron stared back.
Lane continued walking.
Aryaan caught up with him.
“You’re not going to ask?”
Lane looked at him.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I already know.”
Aryaan frowned.
“How?”
Lane looked ahead.
“You’re going to do something stupid.”
Aryaan opened his mouth.
Lane continued:
“Then we’re going to follow you.”
Ron nodded.
“That’s basically our entire friendship.”
Potter raised a hand from behind.
“Correction. That’s basically our entire childhood.”
Mitchell shook her head.
“You’re all idiots.”
Bonita, who had apparently returned without Aryaan noticing, walked past them.
“She’s right.”
Ron looked wounded.
“Why does everyone keep attacking us?”
“Because you’re easy targets.”
“That’s not very supportive.”
“I’m not your mother.”
Ron looked at Aryaan.
“Can she be?”
“No.”
Bonita turned around.
“Ron.”
“I’m done.”
Anahita was waiting in one of the Academy’s restricted research chambers.
She had changed out of her field gear, but there was still a faint burn mark along her sleeve.
Ishaan stood beside her.
Devdutt’s absence was obvious.
Aryaan noticed something else.
The room’s primary console had been disconnected from the Academy network.
That was unusual.
Even more unusual was the fact that Anahita had disabled the recording system.
Aryaan stopped at the door.
“Why are there no recording drones?”
Anahita looked at him.
“Because I don’t want this conversation stored.”
His AI immediately spoke.
“Would you like me to record—”
Aryaan slapped the side of his head.
“No.”
His AI paused.
“Understood.”
Ron stared at him.
“You just hit yourself.”
“Technically, I hit the interface.”
“That’s worse.”
Anahita looked at them.
“Sit.”
They did.
Lane and Ron took the front seats.
Potter sat beside Mitchell.
Bonita leaned against the table.
Riyansh remained standing.
Saiyuki moved to the corner.
Anahita studied them for a long moment.
“You all need to understand something.”
Potter raised his hand.
“Are we in trouble?”
“Yes.”
He lowered it.
“Okay.”
Anahita continued.
“The relay beneath the Academy was not supposed to activate.”
Aryaan frowned.
“Then why did it?”
“Because someone activated it.”
“Devdutt.”
“Yes.”
Aryaan leaned forward.
“Why?”
Anahita’s expression hardened.
“That is what we are trying to determine.”
Aryaan remembered the vision.
“You know more than that.”
Anahita stared at him.
“Tell me what you saw.”
Aryaan hesitated.
Then he told them.
Not everything.
He left out the voice that had spoken to him in the darkness.
He left out the sensation of being watched.
He described Gaia.
Sia.
The forest.
The temporal fracture.
And finally, the message.
Your parents are alive.
Anahita remained completely still.
Aryaan noticed.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking like that?”
“Because I have spent years trying to determine whether your parents survived.”
Aryaan’s anger returned.
“You never told me.”
“I wasn’t certain.”
“Neither was I.”
Anahita’s eyes softened.
“That is precisely why.”
Aryaan looked away.
Anahita continued.
“Your parents were not ordinary researchers. They had begun investigating the Orion temporal collapse before most of the intelligence community accepted that the collapse had actually occurred.”
Potter frowned.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Orion’s universe collapsed because they broke a temporal loop, right?”
Ishaan nodded.
“That’s the prevailing model.”
“Prevailing model?”
“Meaning we don’t know everything.”
Potter pointed at him.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Anahita continued.
“The Orion civilisation discovered a method of increasing their own resonance by interacting with planetary cores. Before that, their civilisation had pursued a different path.”
Aryaan remembered Sia.
“Resonance with the code.”
Anahita looked sharply at him.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Sia.”
The name affected Anahita.
Aryaan noticed immediately.
Anahita’s gaze dropped.
“Not personally.”
“But you know of her.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Anahita hesitated.
Ishaan answered.
“The bearer of a Gaian mistake.”
Aryaan stared.
“What does that mean?”
Ishaan took a breath.
“Long ago, some Gaians discovered a way to interact directly with the underlying resonance code of living worlds. They believed the technique could accelerate evolution and allow individuals to reach higher states of consciousness without relying on ordinary cultivation.”
Aryaan listened.
“Instead, they discovered something else.”
“What?”
“The planetary core could be used as an amplifier.”
Aryaan’s expression tightened.
“That’s what the Orions learned.”
“Yes.”
“But Gaia taught them?”
“Not intentionally.”
Ishaan looked at Anahita.
“Some information was exchanged.”
“Between whom?”
“Gaia and the Orion civilisation.”
Aryaan stared.
“Why?”
“Because at the time, the Orions were not considered an existential threat.”
Potter leaned forward.
“So they made a mistake.”
Ishaan nodded.
“One that destroyed their universe.”
Aryaan thought of Sia’s expression.
“What happened to the Gaians responsible?”
“Some died. Some disappeared. Some tried to undo the damage.”
“And Sia?”
Anahita answered quietly.
“She carries the surviving memory of that mistake.”
Aryaan felt a strange weight settle over him.
Not guilt.
Something more complicated.
Sia wasn’t merely being hunted because she was useful.
She represented a piece of history that both Gaia and the Orions had reasons to control.
Aryaan looked towards Anahita.
“And my parents?”
Anahita hesitated.
That was enough.
Aryaan stood.
“What did they find?”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Aryaan.”
“You knew.”
Anahita’s voice became sharper.
“Your parents found evidence that the Orion collapse was not simply an accident.”
Aryaan froze.
Ron sat forward.
“What?”
Anahita looked at him.
“The temporal loop was broken deliberately.”
Silence.
Aryaan stared.
“By whom?”
“We don’t know.”
Potter’s expression lost its humour.
“That’s… really bad.”
“Yes.”
Aryaan slowly sat.
Anahita continued.
“Your parents believed the Orions were not the only ones manipulating the temporal structure of their universe. They suspected another intelligence had influenced the collapse.”
“Why?”
“Because the resulting merger wasn’t random.”
Aryaan’s eyes narrowed.
“The parallel universes.”
“Yes.”
“Someone wanted them merged.”
“We don’t know that.”
“But your researchers think it.”
“Some do.”
“And Devdutt?”
Anahita’s silence was answer enough.
Aryaan leaned back.
“So Devdutt has been investigating the Orions for years.”
“Yes.”
“He knew my parents were investigating them.”
“Yes.”
“He knew about Gaia.”
“Yes.”
“He knew the relay existed.”
Anahita looked at him.
“Yes.”
Aryaan’s anger became almost cold.
“And he never told us.”
“No.”
Ron shifted.
“Okay, that’s officially a lot of red flags.”
Potter nodded.
“I’m counting seven.”
Mitchell looked at him.
“You’re counting red flags?”
“I need a system.”
Bonita looked towards Anahita.
“Where is Devdutt now?”
Anahita’s expression hardened.
“We don’t know.”
“Can we track him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he disabled his personal AI.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Aryaan frowned.
Every human in Svarg Nagari was assigned an AI assistant at birth.
It was one of the first things a newborn received after identity registration.
The AI was not merely a device.
It became part of the individual’s life from infancy, linked to their identity, medical records, education, communications, and permissions.
Those who accepted bodily modification usually received a nano-interface implanted at the back of the head, allowing the AI to communicate directly through neural signals.
Those who rejected implants could use external hosts—goggles, watches, wristbands and other wearable interfaces.
The choice was personal.
The AI itself remained assigned.
Aryaan had grown up with his.
Ron had grown up arguing with his.
Lane rarely spoke to his unless necessary.
Potter had once attempted to teach his AI sarcasm.
It had learned.
Unfortunately.
But disabling one was not something ordinary people did.
Aryaan looked at Anahita.
“He disabled his AI?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Potter raised a finger.
“Can you do that?”
Anahita shook her head.
“Not normally.”
“Then how did he?”
“Devdutt isn’t normal.”
Potter slowly lowered his finger.
“Fair.”
Aryaan looked towards the table.
“Where’s his interface?”
Anahita placed something on it.
A small device.
It resembled a thin metallic disc, no larger than a coin.
Aryaan recognised it immediately.
The Orion symbol was etched into its surface.
“This was found in his room,” Anahita said.
Aryaan didn’t touch it.
“His AI was disconnected from this?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Anahita looked at Ishaan.
Ishaan answered.
“We don’t know.”
Aryaan frowned.
“That isn’t an acceptable answer anymore.”
Ishaan’s expression tightened.
“You are not in a position to demand answers.”
Aryaan’s eyes flashed.
“Why?”
“Because you nearly died yesterday.”
“I survived.”
“Barely.”
“I learned something.”
“You nearly burned your nervous system out.”
“And I learned something.”
Ishaan stepped closer.
“You are beginning to confuse survival with competence.”
The words hit harder than Aryaan expected.
The room became still.
Aryaan wanted to answer immediately.
He wanted to say that he had seen what they had not, that he had crossed a distance they could only study from records, that he had met someone who knew his parents.
But he knew better.
Because beneath the anger was a truth he didn’t want to admit.
Ishaan was right.
He had survived.
That was not the same thing as being ready.
Aryaan sat back.
“Fine.”
Ishaan nodded.
Anahita looked between them.
Then she said:
“Your next assignment will not involve Gaia.”
Aryaan’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“Nor the Orion relay.”
“Then what are we doing?”
Anahita looked at all eight of them.
“You’ve spent years learning how to use your abilities.”
Potter smiled faintly.
“Here comes the inspirational speech.”
“No.”
Potter’s smile disappeared.
“Okay.”
“You are now going to learn how to investigate.”
Bonita straightened.
Aryaan listened.
Anahita activated the room’s central display.
A map appeared.
Not a map of the Solar System.
Not even a map of the Milky Way.
It was a map of the local interstellar routes used by Mokshabhumi’s intelligence and trade networks.
Hundreds of stations appeared.
Some were enormous.
Some were barely more than fortified docking structures.
Several routes extended beyond the galaxy.
The map shifted.
A particular station became highlighted.
K-17 Vardhana Relay.
Aryaan recognised the name.
“That’s a frontier station.”
“Yes.”
“Near the Perseus transit corridor.”
“Yes.”
“Why are we going there?”
Anahita expanded the information.
A series of reports appeared.
Unusual animal mutations.
Missing cargo.
Three unexplained deaths.
An abandoned research vessel.
And one final entry.
Unregistered resonance activity detected.
Aryaan stared.
“That’s not a normal Academy assignment.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Two weeks ago, a survey vessel disappeared.”
“Crew?”
“Eleven.”
“Any wreckage?”
“None.”
“Orion?”
“Unknown.”
Aryaan looked at the report.
“Why send us?”
Anahita folded her arms.
“Because you are leaving the Academy.”
The words landed differently.
Until now, the Academy had been their centre.
Their training ground.
Their home.
Their friendships had formed there.
Their rivalries.
Their first failures.
Their first victories.
Now it was becoming something they had survived rather than something they belonged to.
Anahita continued.
“You are not being sent as intelligence agents.”
Ron raised his hand.
“Excellent, because I was about to resign.”
“You’re being sent as junior field investigators.”
Ron lowered his hand.
“Less excellent.”
Potter leaned towards Mitchell.
“Do we get uniforms?”
Mitchell whispered:
“Please don’t encourage him.”
Anahita continued.
“You will work under guild supervision.”
Aryaan looked at her.
“Which guild?”
“Several.”
That caught his attention.
“Several?”
“You’ll rotate.”
“Why?”
“Because your official assignment is to gain experience across different guilds.”
Aryaan stared at the map.
The explanation sounded reasonable.
Almost too reasonable.
He looked at Anahita.
“What’s the real reason?”
She didn’t answer.
Ron looked between them.
“Okay, that silence was loud.”
Aryaan looked towards the map.
The different guilds were listed.
Exploration.
Security.
Research.
Archaeology.
Transport.
Interstellar Intelligence.
Aryaan’s eyes stopped.
INTERSTELLAR INTELLIGENCE GUILD
His parents had belonged to intelligence circles.
Devdutt had investigated them.
The Orion mystery intersected with intelligence records.
Gaia had become part of the investigation.
And now, immediately after the relay incident, they were being given access to multiple guilds.
Aryaan looked at Anahita.
“You want us to investigate.”
Anahita’s eyes met his.
“We want you to learn.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Then what are we actually looking for?”
Anahita’s expression became unreadable.
“Whatever your investigation uncovers.”
Aryaan almost laughed.
“That sounds like Devdutt.”
Anahita’s face tightened.
“Do not compare me to him.”
Aryaan noticed.
So did everyone else.
He leaned back.
“Okay.”
Anahita deactivated the map.
“There is one more thing.”
She placed a small rectangular object on the table.
It looked like a traditional Huaxian writing tablet, except that its surface was made from translucent material and tiny luminous characters moved beneath it.
Potter leaned closer.
“What’s that?”
“A memory slate.”
Aryaan frowned.
“Old technology?”
“Older than the current station network.”
“Then why use it?”
“Because it cannot be accessed remotely.”
Potter’s eyebrows rose.
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
Anahita handed it to Aryaan.
The instant he touched it, the surface activated.
A recorded image appeared.
Not Devdutt.
Not Sia.
A man.
Aryaan knew him.
His father.
Aryaan stopped breathing.
The recording was old.
His father appeared younger than Aryaan remembered.
His mother stood beside him.
Both were wearing field clothing.
His father’s voice came through the slate.
“If this reaches you, something has gone wrong.”
Aryaan’s fingers tightened around the device.
His mother looked towards the recording lens.
“We don’t know who will eventually receive this. If it is Aryaan, however, then listen carefully.”
Aryaan’s throat tightened.
Ron went completely still.
Lane looked at him.
The recording continued.
“Do not try to find us.”
Aryaan stared.
The old pain returned.
That message.
The one that had driven him to search harder.
The one that had convinced him they were alive.
His father’s expression changed.
“Not because we are dead.”
Aryaan stopped breathing.
His mother continued:
“Because if you find us before you understand why we disappeared, you will place yourself and everyone around you in danger.”
The recording flickered.
A strange symbol appeared behind them.
Aryaan recognised it.
The Orion mark.
His mother looked over her shoulder.
Someone was approaching.
His father’s voice became urgent.
“Aryaan, if you ever receive this, remember something we taught you when you were very young.”
The image distorted.
“Truth is not the same as knowledge.”
The recording froze.
Then his father’s final words came through.
“Sometimes the most dangerous person in the room is the one who already knows what you are going to ask.”
The slate went dark.
Nobody spoke.
Aryaan stared at his own reflection in its surface.
His parents were alive.
He knew it now.
And they had deliberately told him not to find them.
Not because they wanted him to stop.
Because they wanted him to become capable enough to understand what he was walking into.
Aryaan slowly looked at Anahita.
“Who else has seen this?”
“No one.”
“Devdutt?”
Anahita hesitated.
Aryaan’s heart sank.
“You showed him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your parents trusted him.”
Aryaan looked away.
That answer had once been comforting.
Now it wasn’t.
Several kilometres away, beneath the oldest residential district of Mokshabhumi, Devdutt opened his eyes.
He was sitting in darkness.
There were no lights.
No artificial sky.
No AI interface.
No environmental display.
No electronic equipment.
Only stone.
Actual stone.
A relic from the asteroid’s original structure, preserved beneath layers of engineered architecture.
Devdutt preferred it that way.
He placed his palm against the wall.
A faint vibration answered.
His AI remained disconnected.
For the first time in decades, he was alone inside his own mind.
He had forgotten how loud silence could be.
A voice came from behind him.
“You shouldn’t have activated the relay.”
Devdutt didn’t turn.
“I know.”
“You exposed yourself.”
“I know.”
“You exposed the children.”
Devdutt’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
The voice belonged to his sister.
Anahita.
Except this wasn’t the Anahita who had been speaking to Aryaan upstairs.
This was the sister who had known Devdutt before he became a mentor, before the Academy, before Mokshabhumi had become home.
She stood in the darkness beside her husband.
Ishaan.
Aryaan’s mentors had been watching him.
Both of them.
Devdutt finally turned.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Anahita folded her arms.
“And you shouldn’t be hiding under the city.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“You disconnected your AI, entered a restricted chamber, activated an ancient relay, and disappeared for seventeen minutes.”
Devdutt looked at Ishaan.
“She’s been keeping records.”
Ishaan shrugged.
“She gets that from you.”
Anahita glared at him.
“Don’t encourage him.”
Devdutt smiled faintly.
The smile vanished almost immediately.
“You heard the message.”
Anahita nodded.
“From the relay?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Devdutt looked at the stone wall.
“I was wrong.”
Anahita’s expression changed.
That was not something Devdutt said often.
“About what?”
“About the Orions.”
Ishaan stepped forward.
“What did you see?”
Devdutt looked at both of them.
“The temporal fracture isn’t merely spreading.”
Anahita frowned.
“What then?”
“It is being guided.”
Silence.
Ishaan’s expression hardened.
“By whom?”
Devdutt reached into his coat.
He removed the Orion disc.
Then he placed it on the stone floor.
The symbol began to glow.
Anahita took one step backwards.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Devdutt looked at her.
“What’s impossible is what it means.”
The symbol changed.
The Orion mark dissolved.
Another symbol appeared.
A lotus.
Anahita stared.
“That isn’t Orion.”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Devdutt looked at her.
“It predates them.”
Ishaan’s face tightened.
“By how much?”
Devdutt’s answer was quiet.
“Before the first temporal loop.”
Anahita went still.
Ishaan whispered:
“That would mean…”
“Yes.”
Devdutt looked towards the ceiling.
Far above them, Mokshabhumi continued its ordinary life.
Children travelled to schools.
Ships prepared to depart.
Merchants opened stores.
The eight young graduates were preparing for their first assignments.
And none of them knew that their investigation had already begun.
Devdutt looked down at the symbol.
“We’ve been looking at the Orions as the beginning of the problem.”
Anahita waited.
Devdutt’s expression hardened.
“They’re not.”
“What are they?”
Devdutt looked at his sister.
For the first time, she saw genuine uncertainty in his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Anahita’s face fell.
“Then what do we do?”
Devdutt picked up the disc.
“We follow the children.”
Ishaan stared.
“Why?”
Devdutt looked towards the stone wall.
“Because Aryaan’s parents weren’t searching for the Orions.”
Anahita’s expression changed.
“They were searching for something else.”
Devdutt nodded.
“What?”
Devdutt looked down at the disc.
“The thing that taught the Orions how to break the loop.”
Three days later, the eight stood inside a departure terminal.
Their bags were packed.
Their weapons checked.
Their Academy credentials suspended and replaced with temporary field permits.
Their personal AIs had downloaded the necessary navigation data.
For the first time, they were no longer students.
They were field investigators.
Ron looked at the ship waiting beyond the glass.
“That thing is tiny.”
Potter stared at him.
“It’s a shuttle.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you surprised?”
“Because I thought we’d get a spaceship.”
Mitchell sighed.
“A shuttle is a spaceship.”
“No. A spaceship has a dramatic entrance.”
Potter pointed towards the vessel.
“That thing has engines.”
Ron considered this.
“Still mid.”
Aryaan ignored them.
He was looking at the ship’s structure.
It was built for short-range interstellar travel, with a compact resonance drive, limited life-support redundancy, and a relatively small cargo compartment.
It wasn’t designed to operate independently for months.
That was the difference between a shuttle and a true interstellar ship.
A shuttle existed to connect.
A ship existed to remain.
Their vessel could travel between established routes and stations, but it lacked the massive layered shielding, multiple drive systems, long-term agricultural modules, and redundant navigation cores found on the larger vessels.
It was essentially an interstellar bus with better weapons.
Potter apparently had the same thought.
“Interstellar bus.”
Ron pointed at him.
“Exactly.”
The shuttle’s AI spoke through the terminal.
“Boarding is now available.”
Ron looked at Aryaan.
“Do you think it has a personality?”
Aryaan shrugged.
“Probably.”
Ron looked towards his own AI interface.
His watch displayed a tiny animated face.
“Mine says it’s jealous.”
Aryaan stared.
“Your AI doesn’t have emotions.”
“It says it does.”
“Your AI is messing with you.”
There was a pause.
Ron’s watch spoke.
“I would never.”
Potter burst out laughing.
Ron looked betrayed.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because your AI just roasted you.”
Lane walked past them.
Aryaan followed.
Behind them, Bonita was arguing with Potter about luggage.
Riyansh had somehow brought training equipment despite being explicitly told not to.
Saiyuki had packed almost nothing.
Mitchell had brought enough medical supplies for a small military unit.
Ron had brought snacks.
Aryaan’s bag contained more books than clothes.
It felt normal.
Almost.
He looked back once at Mokshabhumi.
The station stretched beyond the glass, a city of metal, crystal and engineered stone suspended against the darkness of space.
Far beyond it lay the Solar System.
Far beyond the Solar System lay the Milky Way.
And somewhere outside the galaxy, in another Loka, Gaia continued fighting a war that humanity barely understood.
Aryaan touched the memory slate inside his bag.
His parents were alive.
Devdutt was hiding something.
Sia carried a memory that could change the balance between worlds.
The Orions were not the beginning of the story.
And something older than them had begun moving.
The shuttle doors opened.
Ron stepped inside.
He stopped.
Looked around.
Then turned back.
“Guys.”
Aryaan sighed.
“What?”
Ron pointed at the interior.
“There are only seven seats.”
Everyone stared.
Potter counted.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
“Seven.”
Silence.
Ron looked towards Aryaan.
“Bro.”
Aryaan closed his eyes.
“Don’t.”
The shuttle AI spoke.
“Passenger count detected: eight.”
Ron looked relieved.
“See?”
A mechanical panel opened above them.
A narrow seat descended from the ceiling.
Ron stared.
“That is not a seat.”
The AI replied:
“Passenger accommodation is within acceptable safety parameters.”
Ron pointed at it.
“Your definition of acceptable is giving me trust issues.”
Potter stepped onto the folding seat.
It immediately shifted beneath him.
He froze.
“I’m going to kill someone.”
Mitchell laughed.
“Not before the ship leaves.”
Potter looked towards the ceiling.
“I want to formally complain.”
The AI replied:
“Complaint registered.”
Potter blinked.
“That was disturbingly efficient.”
Aryaan laughed.
This time, the pain was manageable.
He looked at his friends.
Eight people.
Eight lives.
Eight wildly different paths that had somehow converged.
He didn’t know that the next few months would test every one of them.
He didn’t know that the guild assignments were not as random as they appeared.
He didn’t know that one of them would eventually question whether they had ever been meant to stay together.
He didn’t know that love, jealousy, fear, ambition, and old wounds would begin pulling at friendships that had survived childhood.
He certainly didn’t know that the first real enemy they would encounter would not look like an enemy at all.
For now, he knew only one thing.
The search had begun.
The shuttle detached from Mokshabhumi.
The station slowly receded behind them.
And somewhere deep inside the vessel’s navigation system, an encrypted signal awakened.
No alarm sounded.
No warning appeared.
The signal had been sleeping there long before the eight boarded.
It recognised Aryaan’s presence.
Then it recognised his blood.
A message appeared for less than one second.
GENETIC RESONANCE CONFIRMED.
The message disappeared.
The ship continued into the darkness.
None of the eight saw it.
But somewhere, far beyond the mapped routes of the Milky Way, something did.
And something answered.
HE HAS LEFT MOKSHABHUMI.
A second message appeared.
BEGIN THE SEARCH.