The yacht rocked gently in the endless stretch of sea, the five of us standing still, statues among shadows. Silence, thick and suffocating, hung over us. Questions flooded our minds like waves crashing against the hull.
Why were we here? What was this place? How do we get out?
For nearly an hour, no one spoke. Just... staring. Thinking. Breathing. Fighting battles in our heads louder than any storm.
Then suddenly—
Rose straightened her spine, her eyes glimmering like she had touched a thread of light in the darkness.
“I remember something,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Back in college, I came across an old manuscript… carved on stone. A riddle—one that was never solved. But the words still haunt me.”
She closed her eyes, repeating from memory:
“Bring us together,
Disappear like feather,
The queen will be crowned,
And the lost will be found…”
The words floated in the salty air like a prophecy long buried beneath the waves.
“It was written in Sanskrit,” she added, her voice barely above the creak of the boat. “They found it in this sea... carved into a rock, part of a crown motif. That’s why I thought—this whole thing, the pieces—it’s the crown.”
Rohan furrowed his brows. “So you do think it’s connected to this place?”
I shook my head. “There are thousands of manuscripts in the world, Rose. We can’t just—”
But Rohan cut me off. “It’s the only thread we have, Jane. The riddle says ‘the lost can be found.’ That’s something. That’s hope.”
Then Lily spoke, her tone serious. “I read about the glowing whales—the ones that Cruise 220 followed. The one that disappeared fifteen years ago.”
That made my heart drop. I pulled out my journal, flipping pages furiously until I found my own jotted version of the riddle. A thought formed slowly—one I hadn’t wanted to believe.
“We have to be pure,” I murmured. “Not just in action... but in emotion. We can’t fake our way through this. If we try to cheat it, it’ll throw us out.”
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Rose handed us each a small notebook—her Sanskrit dictionary.
“In case I disappear,” she said. “Rohan can read Sanskrit too. It’s close to his native language—Hindi.”
We all looked up.
The five islands were now visible. Each holding a secret. Each demanding something from us.
The Island of Wind
We steered the yacht to the nearest island. As we stepped onto its white sands, a massive stone stood before us. Carved into it, in ancient curves of Sanskrit:
“Vāyu,” Rohan whispered.
“Air,” he translated.
The island was lined with windmills, spinning lazily in the distance, their rusted blades catching the dim sunlight. Trees stood tall, but eerily lifeless, like they were just pretending to be alive.
Stone humans stood along the path again—this time their faces twisted in fear and panic.
We stepped forward.
Suddenly—whoosh! The windmills spun faster. The air grew wild, violent, pushing us back like invisible hands trying to hurl us off the island.
No leaf moved. No branch stirred. Only we were being rejected.
We tried again. But this time, a sudden tornado of air threw us into the sea.
Back on the yacht, we sat drenched and shaking. The sun bore down like fire, unmoving—just as it had only shifted when we took the Fire piece.
Lily spoke slowly. “We have to be light. Like air. Weightless.”
“No thoughts,” I said. “No emotions. We must surrender. Let our minds be... nothing.”
“But what does that mean?” Lily cried. “This isn’t an adventure game, Jane. We’re starving. We’re scared.”
Rohan closed his eyes, whispering, “We can’t fight the wind. We have to become it.”
We tried. Sitting in the heat, emptying our thoughts. One by one, we gave up. Too hard. Too much.
Then Lily’s eyes lit up.
“Singing,” she said. “A song! It keeps the mind busy... and empty at the same time.”
So we sang. Loud and out of tune, Permission to Dance echoing as we walked into the wind. Singing like kids at camp, refusing to think, to fear.
We reached the center. There, within the eye of the tornado—calm. A single shining piece of the crown hovered mid-air.
Lily stepped forward—touched it—and vanished.
“LILY!” I screamed.
Rose leapt and caught the piece as it began to fall.
And then—
The island breathed.
The statue people bowed. Four of them, hands outstretched, became stone once more. A throne of leaves rose into the air, cradling the glowing piece. From the sky descended four flying horses, each ridden by a soldier carrying a unique weapon.
The trees came to life, whispering in rustles. The windmills slowed. The leaves danced.
A new carving etched itself onto the original stone:
“J?āna-vāyu? ?akti?”
The wind of knowledge is power.
Rose exhaled. “That’s the second piece.”
Suddenly, the wind swirled again—and Rohan vanished, just like Lily. The notebook he was holding fell to the ground, fluttering open to a single Sanskrit line and a drawing—a vision of the past, where greed and betrayal tore kingdoms apart.
Rose gasped.
“I think… he’s seeing what happened. What led to this crown’s curse.”
Before we could speak—
Rose disappeared.
Only I was left now.
Me—Jane.
Staring at the throne of leaves. At the three empty spots in the crown.
The sea whispered behind me. The wind whispered before me.
And in that moment...
I knew the journey wasn’t just across islands.
It was into our own souls.
to be continued.............