Chapter 2 The Echo Beneath the Earth

The air outside had turned colder, sharp with the scent of wet soil and rust. Arya stepped into the night, pulling her thin coat tighter as her boots sank slightly into the slush. The power lines above crackled weakly—flickering like the thoughts racing through her mind.

Arnav stood by the edge of the porch, flashlight in hand, his other pointing toward the rugged path. His face was serious but hesitant, as if unsure whether he should've knocked at all.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

“You didn’t.” Her voice was soft. “You said something about the maps?”

He handed her the tablet, the light from its screen casting a glow between them. "Earlier today, we got updated overlays. The disaster mapping unit missed something in the southern ridge—this portion here," he pointed to a hazy patch near the forested edge, "shows a collapsed road that isn’t marked in any relief records. There's an old government shelter somewhere near it. It... looks like the ground swallowed it.”

Arya stared at the blurred shape on the screen. A strange weight settled in her chest—familiar and cold. The same feeling she’d had in the dream.

“How far is it?”

“About 4 kilometers. We can take the jeep most of the way, then walk the rest.”

A faint drizzle began to fall again, like the sky whispering warnings. Arya glanced back at the tin-roofed shelter she had come to know as temporary home, then nodded. “Let’s go.”

The ride was silent except for the hum of the old jeep and the rain spattering against its windshield. Arnav drove carefully, avoiding craters and washed-out edges. His brows were furrowed in thought.

“I’ve checked three different mapping sources,” he said finally. “None of them show this shelter anymore. But it was there in 2005.”

Arya felt her pulse quicken. That year again.

As they stopped near the edge of the ridge, she stepped out into thick fog. The headlights cut a tunnel through the mist, but beyond that lay shadows and broken silence.

They walked for a while, following the GPS until Arnav raised his hand. “There.”

Half-sunken into the mud, an angular piece of rusted metal poked through the soil—possibly the edge of a door. The rest was buried beneath years of landslides and neglect. Arya crouched, touching it. The cold metal jolted something in her. A memory? A sense?

“I was here,” she murmured without realizing it.

Arnav turned to her. “What?”

“I think...” she paused, the words feeling too fragile. “Never mind. Let’s dig.”

They worked in rhythm, silent and focused, scraping and pulling. After an hour, they uncovered what remained of a heavy storm shelter—metal beams twisted, concrete cracked like bone. It was partially open, as if someone had once forced their way out.

Arya leaned in through the jagged opening. Dust and cold air curled around her like a ghost.

“Dr. Varma—wait,” Arnav said suddenly, picking something from the rubble.

It was a child’s charm bracelet, the kind sold in old train stations. Faded pink beads. A name etched on one silver plate.

Her hand trembled as she took it.

“Ishu.”

She gasped.

Arnav looked at her. “Do you know this name?”

Arya nodded slowly, her voice barely a whisper. “My best friend's... sister. We were separated in a landslide. She had one just like this.”

The silence that followed stretched between them like a thread waiting to snap.

“Where?” he asked.

“Somewhere near here. Years ago.” She looked up. “I never found her again.”

Arnav stared at the bracelet, his expression unreadable. Then he said, “I had a sister once. She died. Her name was.....”