The first thing Aryaan did after returning to his room was search for the message.
The second thing he did was realise that he had never actually lost it.
It had been with him for years.
Not physically.
That would have been too easy.
The original recording had been stored in an encrypted family archive that only Devdutt could access, and Aryaan had been allowed to hear it only once when he was old enough to understand what his parents were saying.
He had remembered every word since.
Not because the message had been long.
It had been painfully short.
Aryaan, if you are hearing this, it means we could not come back.
His mother’s voice.
Calm.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
Do not look for us.
Then his father’s voice.
Whatever happens, trust Devdutt.
And finally, his mother again.
Some things are safer when they remain unknown.
The recording ended there.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
No promise that they would return.
Nothing that a child could hold on to except three sentences and a command he had spent most of his life refusing to obey.
Aryaan had never believed the message meant his parents were dead.
If they had been dead, why warn him not to look for them?
If they had been captured, why hadn’t they asked for help?
If they had been running from someone, why had they left behind a message that could have been intercepted?
And if they had deliberately disappeared—
Why had Devdutt lied?
That was the question that had grown with Aryaan.
Tonight, it had finally become impossible to ignore.
He sat at his desk while Mokshabhumi’s artificial night settled over the residential district.
The room was dark except for the pale glow of the city beyond his window.
Mokshabhumi never truly slept.
The station was too large, too populated, and too strategically important.
Even during the artificial night cycle, cargo ships moved between docking arms, maintenance drones crawled along the outer hull, and transport vessels departed towards the inner planets.
From Aryaan’s window, the asteroid belt appeared as a field of distant fragments illuminated by the station’s navigation lights.
He had grown up looking at that view.
When he was younger, he had imagined each asteroid as a tiny world.
Later, when he learned enough astronomy to understand how enormous the solar system really was, the illusion disappeared.
The belt wasn’t a collection of miniature worlds.
It was debris.
Stone.
Metal.
Frozen water.
The remains of a violent beginning.
Humanity had simply learned how to live among it.
Aryaan activated his desk.
A thin circle of light appeared above the surface.
“Archive.”
The system remained silent.
Aryaan frowned.
“Family archive.”
Still nothing.
He leaned closer.
“Restricted archive. Das family.”
The system responded.
ACCESS DENIED.
Aryaan stared at it.
He tried again.
“Secondary family archive.”
ACCESS DENIED.
“Historical research archive.”
ACCESS DENIED.
Aryaan leaned back.
“That is so helpful.”
The system remained indifferent.
Aryaan knew exactly why the archive was inaccessible.
His parents’ research had been classified after their disappearance.
Some files had been seized by the Academy.
Others had supposedly been destroyed.
The rest had been transferred to Devdutt.
Aryaan had spent years attempting to circumvent the restrictions, with varying degrees of success.
He had never managed to breach the deepest layer.
He had once joked that Devdutt had probably designed the encryption himself.
Devdutt had laughed.
That had been suspicious enough.
Aryaan opened a different directory.
A personal archive.
His own.
He entered the oldest available recording.
The system displayed a warning.
ARCHIVE CONTAINS TRAUMATIC MEMORY MATERIAL.
Aryaan frowned.
“Seriously?”
MEMORY RECALL MAY PRODUCE EMOTIONAL DESTABILISATION.
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
He selected CONTINUE.
The room disappeared.
Not physically.
The projection simply replaced it.
Aryaan stood inside an old family home.
Not the home he lived in now.
The home from his childhood.
His mother was sitting beside him.
She looked younger than Aryaan remembered.
Or perhaps he was simply old enough now to see her differently.
His father stood behind them.
There was a cup in his hand.
Aryaan’s childhood self was sitting on the floor, trying to assemble some kind of mechanical toy.
His father was laughing.
The recording wasn’t the message.
It was an old family memory.
Aryaan watched.
His younger self became increasingly frustrated with the toy.
His mother reached down.
“Maybe it goes the other way.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even tried.”
“Because I know.”
His father laughed.
“He gets that from you.”
His mother looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
“You said something.”
“I said nothing.”
“You definitely said something.”
Young Aryaan looked up.
“Why are you fighting?”
His parents stopped.
His father looked at his mother.
His mother looked at his father.
Then both started laughing.
Aryaan watched from outside the memory.
He had almost forgotten that.
Not the laughter.
The feeling.
The certainty that his parents would always be there.
That there would always be another evening.
Another meal.
Another argument.
Another ridiculous machine his father would insist he could repair.
Another time his mother would tell him to stop touching something dangerous.
A normal life.
That was what he missed.
Not the mystery.
Not the investigation.
Not even the possibility that they might still be alive.
He missed ordinary things.
Aryaan closed the recording.
The room returned.
For several seconds, he sat without moving.
Then the door opened.
Aryaan didn’t turn.
“I know you’re there.”
Ron stepped inside.
“Wow.”
Aryaan looked at him.
“You’re becoming psychic.”
“I’m your cousin.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Ron closed the door.
He was still wearing the same clothes from the Academy.
That meant he had probably come directly from his own room.
Aryaan looked at him.
“What do you want?”
Ron frowned.
“That’s rude.”
“It’s midnight.”
“It’s not midnight.”
“It’s close enough.”
Ron looked at the station clock.
“Twenty-three forty-two.”
Aryaan stared at him.
Ron stared back.
“What?”
“You came here at eleven forty-two.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ron thought about it.
“I don’t know.”
Aryaan raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously?”
Ron sat on the edge of the bed.
“Okay, fine.”
He looked towards the window.
“You were weird after we got home.”
Aryaan didn’t answer.
Ron continued.
“Not normal weird.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Aryaan did.
Ron rubbed his hands together.
“You’re thinking about your parents.”
Aryaan’s eyes narrowed.
Ron noticed.
“See?”
“See what?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The face where you pretend you aren’t bothered.”
Aryaan stared at him.
“You’re surprisingly observant for someone who once walked into a maintenance drone because you were texting.”
“It moved.”
“It was parked.”
“It was moving emotionally.”
Aryaan couldn’t stop himself.
He laughed.
Ron smiled.
There it was.
That was Ron.
He could make an entire room unbearable and then, somehow, make it easier to breathe.
Aryaan looked towards the window.
“I’m going to Earth.”
Ron didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even ask whether Aryaan was serious.
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Actually, I know you’re going.”
Aryaan looked at him.
Ron shrugged.
“You’ve been waiting for an excuse for years.”
Aryaan’s jaw tightened.
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Didn’t say it was.”
Aryaan looked away.
Ron remained quiet.
That was unusual enough to make Aryaan suspicious.
“Why are you being sensible?”
Ron looked offended.
“I can be sensible.”
“Name one time.”
Ron opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Aryaan smiled.
“Exactly.”
“I’m leaving.”
Ron stood.
Aryaan’s smile faded.
“Ron.”
Ron paused.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
Ron looked uncomfortable.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were about to.”
Aryaan shook his head.
Ron opened the door.
Then stopped.
“Oh.”
Aryaan looked up.
Ron turned around.
“Lane’s outside.”
Aryaan stared.
“What?”
Ron nodded towards the corridor.
“He’s been standing there for five minutes.”
Aryaan closed his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ron shrugged.
“I wanted to see what would happen.”
“Ron.”
“What?”
“Go.”
“Fine.”
Ron left.
Aryaan waited.
Three seconds.
Four.
Then the door opened again.
Ron stuck his head inside.
“Just for the record, I think you two are emotionally constipated.”
The door shut.
Aryaan stared at it.
“I’m going to kill him.”
A voice came from the corridor.
“Get in line.”
Aryaan opened the door.
Lane stood outside.
He looked at Aryaan.
Aryaan looked at him.
Neither spoke.
Lane stepped inside.
He had something in his hand.
A small metal object.
Aryaan recognised it immediately.
“Where did you get that?”
Lane held it out.
“It was in my father’s things.”
Aryaan’s expression changed.
Lane’s father.
One of the two brothers who had vanished.
Aryaan looked at the object.
“What is it?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did you ask Devdutt?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Lane’s eyes moved towards him.
“You didn’t.”
Aryaan had no answer.
Lane placed the object on the desk.
It was an old data key.
Unlike modern storage devices, which were usually quantum-coded and integrated into neural interfaces, this one was physical.
Heavy.
Ugly.
Almost primitive.
Aryaan picked it up.
“Your father left this?”
Lane nodded.
“Where?”
“Inside an old tool case.”
Aryaan looked at him.
“Why didn’t you show me before?”
Lane’s expression changed slightly.
“I found it yesterday.”
The same day the coordinate had appeared.
Aryaan felt the hairs rise along his arms.
“Did it activate?”
Lane nodded.
Aryaan looked down.
“Show me.”
Lane placed his palm over the key.
Nothing happened.
He looked at Aryaan.
Aryaan frowned.
“That’s it?”
Lane moved his hand away.
Then Aryaan touched it.
The object activated instantly.
A thin line of light ran through its surface.
Lane’s eyes narrowed.
Aryaan stared.
“Okay.”
The key projected a small hologram.
It wasn’t a person.
It wasn’t a map.
It was a sequence of symbols.
Three intersecting lines within a circle.
The same symbol Devdutt had seen.
Aryaan’s stomach tightened.
“Where have you seen that?”
Lane looked at him.
“Nowhere.”
“You’re lying.”
Lane’s eyes sharpened.
Aryaan immediately realised his mistake.
Lane’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Hurt.
It was subtle.
But Aryaan saw it.
“Sorry.”
Lane looked away.
Aryaan sighed.
“I’m not accusing you.”
“You did.”
“I know.”
Silence.
The two cousins had grown up together.
Aryaan had learned to read Lane’s moods long before he learned how to read political negotiations.
He knew when Lane was angry.
He knew when Lane was bored.
He knew when Lane was about to leave a conversation.
But he also knew when he had hurt him.
Lane’s silence wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that Aryaan sometimes assumed silence meant agreement.
It didn’t.
“You should have told me,” Aryaan said.
Lane looked at him.
“I was trying to understand it.”
Aryaan looked at the key.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know if it mattered.”
Aryaan’s frustration returned.
“Everything matters right now.”
Lane’s eyes hardened.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
Aryaan stared.
Lane continued.
“You see a connection, then you chase it.”
“That is not true.”
“It is.”
“I investigate.”
“You obsess.”
Aryaan’s expression changed.
Lane immediately looked away.
The words had landed harder than he intended.
Aryaan knew that.
But they were already out.
The room became uncomfortable.
Aryaan picked up the key.
“Fine.”
Lane’s eyes returned to him.
Aryaan looked at the symbol.
“Then let’s not chase it.”
Lane frowned.
“What?”
“We don’t investigate.”
“That’s what Devdutt told us.”
“Exactly.”
Lane stared at him.
Aryaan looked up.
“We observe.”
Lane understood.
A faint change appeared in his eyes.
“You’re going to investigate while pretending not to.”
Aryaan smiled.
“I’m offended.”
“Why?”
“Because you make me sound predictable.”
Lane almost smiled.
Almost.
The tension broke.
Aryaan handed him the key.
“Bring this tomorrow.”
Lane looked at it.
“Why?”
“Because if we’re going to investigate without investigating, we should at least be prepared.”
Lane shook his head.
“That sentence makes no sense.”
“It’s a strategy.”
“It’s stupidity with better vocabulary.”
Aryaan laughed.
There.
That was better.
Then the symbol changed.
Both of them froze.
The three lines inside the circle began to rotate.
A fourth line appeared.
Then a fifth.
The holographic projection expanded.
A map emerged.
Aryaan leaned closer.
The map was old.
Very old.
The coordinate system was unlike anything used in modern navigation.
Lane stared.
“What is that?”
Aryaan didn’t answer.
The map was not of the current solar system.
It showed Earth.
But not modern Earth.
The continents were different.
The atmosphere was represented as a dense blue layer.
And surrounding the planet were several strange geometric structures.
Aryaan recognised one immediately.
“That’s impossible.”
Lane looked at him.
“What?”
“That is not a station.”
“What is it?”
Aryaan enlarged the image.
The structure appeared enormous.
It surrounded Earth like a ring.
Not a Dyson structure.
Not a defence system.
Something else.
Something that seemed to interact with the planet’s magnetic field.
Lane looked at the coordinate.
“What’s the date?”
Aryaan searched the embedded data.
The system returned an estimate.
3,421 YEARS BEFORE CURRENT CALENDAR.
Aryaan stared.
Lane stared.
Then Lane said:
“That’s old.”
Aryaan looked at him.
“Thank you, Lane.”
“You’re welcome.”
The map shifted.
The ancient structure disappeared.
A single coordinate appeared.
Not on Earth.
Above it.
Aryaan’s breath caught.
He knew that coordinate.
Not because it belonged to his parents.
Because it belonged to Mokshabhumi.
Except—
Mokshabhumi did not exist three thousand years ago.
The coordinate was exactly where the station currently stood.
Aryaan’s mind raced.
“That’s impossible.”
Lane studied the map.
“Again?”
“It’s a valid criticism.”
The hologram flickered.
Then a message appeared.
Not text.
A voice.
Aryaan’s father’s voice.
His entire body went rigid.
Lane looked at him.
The recording began.
If you are hearing this, then something has gone wrong.
Aryaan stopped breathing.
His father’s voice was older than he remembered.
More tired.
But unmistakable.
If you are hearing this through the key, the archive has survived.
That means the system has not.
Aryaan moved closer.
Lane didn’t move.
The recording continued.
We do not know how much time we have.
A pause.
Then Aryaan’s mother’s voice.
And we do not know who will find this.
Aryaan’s hands clenched.
His parents had recorded this.
Not the message he had heard as a child.
Something else.
Something hidden.
His father continued.
If this message reaches Aryaan, there is something you need to understand.
Aryaan’s heart slammed against his ribs.
Lane turned towards him.
The recording continued.
Do not assume the destruction of Earth began with the war.
Aryaan froze.
The words seemed to settle over the room.
Do not assume the destruction of Earth began with the war.
His father’s voice continued.
The war was a consequence.
Aryaan looked at Lane.
Lane’s expression had become unreadable.
Something happened before humanity understood what was happening.
We found evidence that the planet was being prepared for destruction.
Aryaan’s skin prickled.
His mother’s voice followed.
Not attacked.
Prepared.
The word hung in the air.
Prepared.
The environmental changes.
The tectonic instability.
The atmospheric collapse.
The mutations in biological systems.
They were not independent events.
They were stages.
Aryaan’s throat tightened.
He remembered the Academy assignment.
Mutation.
Flora.
Fauna.
Recent battles.
Unknown energy signatures.
Earth.
His father’s voice returned.
We initially believed the cause was technological.
We were wrong.
The recording glitched.
Aryaan instinctively reached towards the projection.
The hologram distorted.
Lane grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t.”
Aryaan looked at him.
The projection stabilised.
The phenomenon is older than humanity.
Aryaan stared.
Older than Earth civilisation.
Older than the Huaxian records.
Older than the earliest surviving Gaian archives.
His mother’s voice became softer.
And it is connected to something the Huaxians called the Great Pattern.
Aryaan’s mind raced.
The Huaxians.
Ancient Taoist traditions had spoken of the universe as an interconnected pattern of forces.
Most modern scholars treated the stories as philosophical mythology.
Some considered them early attempts to describe natural law.
His parents apparently had not.
His father continued.
The Pattern is not simply a law.
It is a structure.
A pause.
A temporal structure.
Aryaan’s heart stopped.
Lane’s eyes widened.
The recording continued.
We believe the universe is trapped inside a repeating temporal sequence.
Aryaan whispered:
“The loop.”
Lane looked at him.
The same phrase from Devdutt’s disc.
The loop is broken.
His father’s voice continued.
Every civilisation experiences time as a straight line because the Pattern makes it appear that way.
Cause leads to effect.
Effect becomes cause.
Events repeat without appearing to repeat.
Aryaan’s mind struggled to keep up.
The Huaxians called the force that preserves this illusion the Nomological Force.
Lane whispered:
“Nomological.”
Aryaan nodded.
The recording continued.
We don’t know whether the Nomological Force is conscious.
We don’t know whether it merely maintains the laws that keep the loop functioning, or whether it actively corrects deviations from the expected sequence.
Aryaan felt cold.
His mother spoke.
But something has begun interfering with it.
The recording flickered.
For a moment, the image disappeared.
Then returned.
His father sounded more urgent.
If you’re hearing this, then the interference has probably become worse.
Aryaan leaned closer.
And if you are Aryaan, there is one thing you must never forget.
The recording paused.
Aryaan could hear his own breathing.
His father’s voice came through.
Your ability is not an accident.
Aryaan froze.
Lane turned sharply towards him.
The recording continued.
Neither is Lane’s.
Lane’s expression changed.
Aryaan looked at him.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
And neither is Ron’s.
Silence.
The recording ended.
Aryaan stared at the empty projection.
Neither boy moved.
For several seconds, neither seemed capable of speaking.
Then Lane said:
“No.”
Aryaan looked at him.
Lane shook his head.
“No.”
“Lane—”
“No.”
His voice was sharper now.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“How would they know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would they know about us?”
Aryaan stood.
“Because they were studying us?”
Lane turned on him.
“Studying us?”
Aryaan immediately realised how that sounded.
Lane’s eyes were hard.
“Our parents disappeared because they were investigating the destruction of Earth, and now we find a message saying our abilities were part of it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
Aryaan stepped closer.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Good.”
Lane’s voice cracked slightly.
That was enough.
Aryaan stopped.
Lane looked away.
Aryaan understood.
This wasn’t about the investigation.
It wasn’t about the message.
It was about something much more personal.
The possibility that their parents had known something about them that they themselves had never been told.
The possibility that their entire lives had been shaped by a secret they had never been allowed to understand.
Aryaan softened his voice.
“Lane.”
“Don’t.”
Aryaan stopped.
Lane stared at the dark window.
“What if they knew?”
Aryaan didn’t answer.
“What if they knew what would happen to us?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if that’s why they disappeared?”
Aryaan’s mind returned to the message.
Do not look for us.
He had always believed the words meant his parents were trying to protect him.
But what if the protection wasn’t from whatever had taken them?
What if it was from the truth?
A sudden knock struck the door.
Both boys turned.
Ron entered before either of them answered.
“Guys, I—”
He stopped.
Aryaan and Lane were staring at him.
Ron frowned.
“What?”
Neither answered.
Ron looked at Lane.
Then Aryaan.
Then the holographic projector.
The symbol was still faintly visible.
Ron walked closer.
“What is that?”
Aryaan hesitated.
Ron looked at him.
“What?”
Aryaan glanced at Lane.
Lane didn’t stop him.
Aryaan told him.
Ron listened.
He didn’t joke.
He didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t even fidget.
When Aryaan finished, Ron stared at the projector.
Then he laughed.
It was a strange laugh.
Too short.
Too forced.
Aryaan knew immediately.
“Ron.”
“No.”
“Ron.”
“Nope.”
“Ron.”
“I am officially rejecting this entire conversation.”
Lane looked at him.
Ron turned.
“Seriously.”
His eyes were bright.
“I don’t want to hear that our parents knew something about us and never told us.”
Aryaan said nothing.
Ron rubbed his face.
“That’s not cool.”
His voice cracked.
Nobody laughed.
Ron looked down.
“They’re supposed to be dead or missing or whatever.”
Aryaan stepped closer.
Ron lifted a hand.
“Don’t.”
Aryaan stopped.
Ron swallowed.
“If they’re alive, great. Fantastic. Ten out of ten. We find them.”
His expression hardened.
“But if they’re dead, then I don’t want some ancient creepy message telling me they knew everything and still left.”
Lane’s expression softened.
Ron continued.
“Because that’s worse.”
Aryaan understood.
For Ron, the possibility of his parents being alive had always been simpler than the possibility that they had known the truth and deliberately left him behind.
Ron had always trusted people too easily.
He believed the best in them even after they had given him reasons not to.
Perhaps that was why betrayal hurt him more than it hurt the others.
Aryaan walked towards him.
Ron stepped back.
Then stopped.
Aryaan didn’t hug him.
He knew better.
Instead, he said:
“We’ll find out.”
Ron looked at him.
Aryaan continued.
“Whatever it means, we find out together.”
Ron stared.
Lane nodded once.
Ron looked between them.
“That’s very dramatic.”
Aryaan smiled.
Ron wiped his face quickly.
“I wasn’t crying.”
“Of course not.”
“Something got in my eye.”
“What?”
“Emotion.”
Lane almost smiled.
Ron pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Lane’s almost-smile disappeared.
Ron nodded.
“Exactly.”
Aryaan laughed.
The tension broke.
But only for a moment.
Because the projector flickered again.
The three boys turned.
A new message appeared.
Not from their parents.
This time, the words were written in a language none of them recognised.
Aryaan stared.
Lane moved closer.
Ron squinted.
“Anyone?”
“No.”
The characters changed.
Then rearranged themselves.
The system attempted automatic translation.
TRANSLATION INCOMPLETE.
The first line became readable.
IF THE THREE HAVE AWAKENED—
The second line appeared.
THE EIGHT MUST NOT REACH—
The rest dissolved.
Aryaan’s pulse accelerated.
“The eight?”
Ron looked at him.
“That’s us.”
“No.”
Ron counted.
Aryaan.
Lane.
Ron.
Their five friends.
Eight.
Ron swallowed.
“That’s us.”
The projector flickered again.
The final line appeared.
THE EIGHT MUST NOT REACH GAIA.
The message vanished.
Nobody spoke.
Then Ron looked at Aryaan.
“Well.”
Aryaan didn’t move.
Ron pointed towards the empty projection.
“That’s awkward.”
Lane looked at him.
“What?”
Ron spread his hands.
“Our graduation assignment.”
Aryaan’s blood ran cold.
Gaia.
The first location on their list.
They met the others before dawn.
There had been no formal agreement.
No group message.
No emergency call.
Aryaan simply sent one sentence to the others.
Come to the old observation deck.
Now.
Potter replied within six seconds.
Is anyone dead?
Aryaan answered.
Not yet.
Potter’s response came immediately.
Omw.
By the time the others arrived, Aryaan had already explained the message to Lane and Ron twice.
Neither explanation had made it easier.
Mitchell arrived first.
She walked into the observation deck, saw the three boys’ faces, and immediately stopped.
“What happened?”
Potter appeared behind her.
He looked at Aryaan.
Then at Ron.
Then at Lane.
“Okay.”
He shut the door.
“Someone’s dead.”
Bonita came in next.
“Why do you always assume someone is dead?”
“Because Aryaan only sends messages like that when something has gone catastrophically sideways.”
“I sent one message.”
“Exactly.”
Riyansh entered.
Saiyuki followed.
Sia came last.
Her silver-white hair caught the faint light from the observation windows.
She looked at the group.
Then at Lane.
Lane looked away.
Sia noticed.
Aryaan noticed Sia noticing.
Ron noticed Aryaan noticing.
Potter noticed everyone.
He smiled.
Aryaan pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Potter raised both hands.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking.”
“Thinking is legal.”
“Not when you’re thinking about them.”
Potter’s smile widened.
Sia looked confused.
Lane looked irritated.
Ron looked delighted.
Aryaan immediately regretted saying anything.
Bonita stepped forward.
“Can we focus?”
Aryaan nodded.
He activated the projector.
The recording appeared.
His parents’ voices filled the room.
The eight listened.
Nobody interrupted.
When the recording ended, the silence that followed was different from the one in Aryaan’s room.
This silence belonged to eight people trying to understand something that had just changed the shape of their lives.
Mitchell spoke first.
“Their conclusion is theoretically possible.”
Potter looked at her.
“That is the least comforting sentence you have ever spoken.”
Mitchell ignored him.
“The concept of temporal loops has been discussed in several scientific traditions.”
“Huaxian Taoist cultivation included similar ideas,” Saiyuki added.
Aryaan looked at her.
She nodded.
“Not the same. Taoist texts speak of cycles, recurrence, and the return of forces to their source. Modern scholars interpret much of it metaphorically, but some ancient records contain descriptions that resemble temporal mechanics.”
Bonita folded her arms.
“And Gaia?”
Sia looked towards the floor.
Aryaan noticed.
“Say it.”
Sia looked at him.
“What?”
“You know something.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I know what everyone knows.”
“That’s not true.”
Sia’s expression changed.
Aryaan immediately realised he had pushed too hard.
She had already been uncomfortable whenever Gaia came up.
Now the entire group was staring at her.
Sia’s jaw tightened.
“I said I don’t know.”
Aryaan took a step back.
“Fine.”
The word came out colder than he intended.
Sia looked hurt.
Lane noticed.
He shifted slightly.
Aryaan didn’t.
The damage was already done.
Sia looked away.
Potter’s expression changed.
For once, he did not make a joke.
Bonita broke the silence.
“The final part of the message matters more.”
She replayed the final sequence.
THE EIGHT MUST NOT REACH GAIA.
Riyansh frowned.
“Why?”
Potter looked at him.
“Because apparently Gaia has a strict no-eight-idiots policy.”
Ron pointed at him.
“You’re included.”
“I know.”
“Then why insult us?”
“Self-awareness.”
Ron nodded.
“Fair.”
Aryaan ignored them.
“Why would my parents warn us away from Gaia?”
Mitchell looked at the assignment.
“Because they knew we’d be sent there.”
Aryaan turned.
“What?”
She pointed at the Academy map.
“The assignment was generated before we discovered the message.”
Bonita nodded slowly.
“Which means either the Academy has independently reached the same conclusion, or—”
“Someone wanted us to go there,” Potter finished.
Everyone became quiet.
Aryaan looked at the map.
Gaia glowed.
The planet appeared peaceful.
Beautiful.
Almost inviting.