The television crackled with static before the news anchor’s voice cut through.

> “Breaking news. A mysterious letter was received inside the Parliament today. The unsigned letter declared the formation of a new organisation—its name still undisclosed—that has threatened to intervene directly if the government fails to eradicate corruption, mafia influence, and political exploitation.

In their words, ‘If you cannot change this nation, we will.’

The anchor’s voice trembled slightly as she continued:

> “Security agencies are investigating whether this is a prank or the sign of a powerful underground movement. The question remains—who are they? And how do they plan to achieve such a scale of change?”

A man in his forties sat in front of the flickering screen, his hand clenched around a half-empty glass. His tired eyes narrowed. This isn’t just another threat. Something’s moving.

The camera panned back to the newsroom, but his mind was already elsewhere.

---

2035 – Delhi

The clang of lockers, chatter of classrooms, and the restless energy of teenagers filled the halls of St. Xavier’s Senior School.

In the middle of it, chaos.

Two boys stood against a group of seniors, refusing to back down.

Karan—sharp-eyed, hotheaded, always the first to throw a punch.

Kabir—the calmer one, but loyal to the bone, never leaving Karan’s side.

The seniors had mocked them, shoved Kabir, and within seconds, fists were flying. The fight wasn’t pretty—hair pulled, uniforms torn, blood on Kabir’s lip. The crowd roared until a teacher’s voice cut through like a whip.

The mob scattered.

But one of the seniors spat on the ground, glaring.

“You’re finished. After school. Both of you.”

---

That evening, the battle wounds were tended to in Karan’s room. The place was a mess—books thrown around, a cricket bat leaning against the wall, posters half torn.

Karan struggled with a bandage roll while Kabir sat cross-legged on the bed, pressing ice against his face.

“You seriously punch like a baby,” Kabir muttered.

“At least my punches land,” Karan shot back. He tightened the bandage a little too hard.

“Ow—idiot! You trying to kill me?”

Karan grinned. “Relax, hero. Or should I say… tragic hero?”

Kabir frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing…” Karan leaned back with a mischievous smirk. “Just that your little Meera ji saw the whole fight. Bet she was impressed watching you cry in front of the seniors.”

Kabir’s ears went red instantly. “Shut up, Karan.”

“Aw, look at him blush. ‘Meera, my love, I’ll protect you!’—and then bam, you’re eating dirt in front of her.”

Kabir threw the ice pack at him. “You’re dead.”

Karan laughed so hard he almost fell off the chair. “Forget the seniors, Kabir. You should be more scared of your girlfriend laughing at you in class tomorrow.”

Kabir groaned, burying his face in his hands, while Karan kept teasing. The room echoed with their laughter—the kind of laughter that made bruises worth it.

They didn’t know it yet, but outside their small world of fights, teasing, and teenage crushes, the nation was stirring with whispers of rebellion.

And somehow, their names would one day be written into that story.

November 19, 2005.

The blast tore through the crowded marketplace at noon. Smoke curled into the sky as panicked voices filled the streets. By nightfall, the death toll filled every news channel.

The government was shaken. Opposition leaders screamed negligence. Anchors debated endlessly.

And then came the whispers—

The mysterious organisation that had first revealed itself in March 2005 released another statement.

> “Your corruption has cost lives. We warned you. This is only the beginning.”

Nobody knew who they were. Nobody knew how they operated. Nobody even knew if the blast was theirs—or if they were only using tragedy to tighten their grip.

But one thing was certain: the country was beginning to change.

---

2035 – Delhi

A month had passed since the fight in the corridors. Bruises had healed, but something else had taken root in Karan and Kabir’s lives. Something they didn’t talk about openly.

The three of them—Karan, Kabir, and Meera—sat on the school grounds under the fading evening light. Books were scattered, untouched, while their voices carried low, heavy with something unsaid.

“You two don’t even realize what you’re playing with,” Meera muttered, arms crossed, eyes sharp with worry.

Karan leaned back, smirking to cover the unease. “Relax, Meera. We’re not doing anything… wrong. We’re just… trying to set things right.”

“Set things right?” she shot back. “Do you even know what will happen because of this? You think it’s just some game, but it’s not. It feels—wrong.”

Kabir stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the ground. Finally, he said, “She’s right. We don’t fully know the consequences. Every move we make… it leaves a mark.”

Karan’s smile faltered. He didn’t reply.

Meera’s voice softened. “Promise me you’ll stop before it goes too far. Please.”

The silence stretched until Kabir exhaled, breaking it.

“Look… maybe we can’t figure this out alone. Let me talk to my sister. She’ll know what to do.”

Karan looked at him sharply. “You’re serious?”

Kabir nodded. “We need someone smarter. Older. Someone who won’t panic but can guide us. She’s the only one I trust with this.”

---

And that’s how three more faces entered their circle.

Not classmates. Not kids. Older, sharper, more mature.

People who could handle secrets too heavy for school corridors.

The pieces were shifting.

And none of them fully understood the weight of the game they had just started.

Meera’s words hung heavy, but Karan suddenly leaned forward with a grin.

“By the way, Kabir, I still can’t believe you got thrashed in front of her last month. Legendary performance, bro.”

Kabir glared. “Not again, Karan.”

Meera smirked. “Oh, I remember that. Everyone was talking about it for days.”

Karan burst into laughter. “See? Even she remembers. You’ll go down in school history.”

Kabir groaned and threw a pebble at him, missing by an inch. “I swear, one day—”

And just like that, the tension cracked for a moment, their laughter echoing across the empty grounds.

It was late evening when Kabir dragged Karan and Meera up the narrow stairs of his house. The three of them stopped outside a door with a small nameplate: “Kavya Sharma.”

His sister.

College student. Smarter than both of them combined.

Karan whispered, “You really think she’ll believe us?”

Kabir shrugged. “If she doesn’t, at least she won’t run to the teachers. Just… let me talk.”

The door opened before he could knock twice. Kavya stood there in her oversized T-shirt, a book in one hand and irritation written all over her face

“Kabir, I’m studying. What is it now? Another fight? Another suspension notice?”

Kabir looked nervous for the first time in his life. Karan stood behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, while Meera lingered awkwardly near the stairs.

“No, this is different,” Kabir muttered. “We… we need to talk.”

Kavya arched a brow. “You dragged your entire gang here for a talk?” Her eyes shifted to Meera, smirking. “Wait—don’t tell me. Is this about her? Did you knock her up, Kabir? And now you’ve come running to big sister for rescue?”

Meera’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

Karan burst out laughing, slapping Kabir’s back. “Oh my god, this is better than the fight! Congratulations, bro!”

Kabir turned red. “Shut up, both of you! That’s not—ugh, just shut up!”

Kavya folded her arms. “So it’s not that. Good. Then what is it? You want pocket money for some lame school project?”

Kabir sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “This is serious, Kavya. Just listen for once.”

She smirked, settling on her chair like a judge about to hear a case. “Fine. Convince me.”

The words got stuck in Kabir’s throat. He looked at Karan for help. Karan shrugged and said, “Okay, so… something happened. Something big. And you’re not going to believe it unless you see it.”

Kavya snorted. “That’s what everyone says before telling me they failed math.”

Kabir finally reached into his bag, pulling out an old folded newspaper. He placed it on the table with shaky hands.

Kavya glanced at it lazily. “Wow. Breaking news: paper exists. Amazing.”

“Look closer,” Kabir urged.

Her eyes scanned the front page—and then froze.

There it was. A photo of Kabir himself, younger, caught mid-stride in a grainy image. The headline screamed with dates and names, but her eyes locked on his face. Same hair. Same eyes. Same scar above his eyebrow.

She blinked, leaned forward, and then looked up at him sharply. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s real,” Kabir said quietly.

Kavya let out a short laugh. “No. No way. You idiots printed this at some shady Photoshop shop, didn’t you? Is this your big prank? Because I swear, if you dragged me away from my exams prep for a joke—”

“Search it,” Meera interrupted softly.

“What?”

“Search it online. That exact date. That exact event. Check it.”

Kavya rolled her eyes but pulled her phone out anyway. Within seconds, her smirk began to fade. Her lips pressed into a thin line as the screen filled with archived articles. The same photo. The same headlines. Everything matched.

Her hand trembled slightly as she set the phone down.

“This… this is impossible.”

Kabir’s voice was calm now, too calm. “We told you. We can’t explain how. But it happened.”

For once, Kavya had no sarcastic comeback. She leaned back, staring at all three of them like she was seeing them for the first time.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were sharp.

“Alright. You’ve convinced me this isn’t a prank. But this? This is not something three clueless schoolkids can handle.”

Karan frowned. “Hey—”

“No,” she cut him off. “I’m serious. You think this is a joke? You’re already way over your heads. If we’re doing this, we need more people. People I can trust.”

“Who?” Meera asked cautiously.

Kavya didn’t hesitate. “Aisha. And Rishabh. They’re older, smarter, and they won’t panic. If you want to play with fire, you’ll need grown-ups in the room.”

The room went quiet again. The weight of her words settled over them like a shadow.

The circle was widening. And with it, so was the danger.