The night feels wrong even without any specific reason . Nothing has changed. The sky is clear, the air is cool, and the world looks exactly as it did yesterday. High above, the moon hangs at the center of the sky, pale and distant, as if it is watching without caring. A soft wind drifts through the open windows of the orphanage dormitory, carrying with it the faint smell of mountain dust and old rusted iron from the gates below. It should feel calm...familiar and safe. Instead, the stillness presses against her chest until even breathing feels like 9-5 work.

  Is this what comes before something terrible?

  She wakes with a violent gasp, her body jerking upright before her mind can catch up. Her heart pounds so hard it hurts. A nightmare clings to her like smoke, slipping through her fingers each time she tries to grasp it. She cannot remember clear images. No faces. No flames. Only the certainty that someone, or something, was chasing her , trying to catch her and tell something. Something maybe really important. Then she hears it.

  Jingle... Jingle...

  The sharp, rhythmic sound of bronze bells. The Ghungroo . It is too clear to be part of a dream, too deliberate to be the wind. The sound seems to echo from every corner of the room at once.

  Radhvi holds her breath and listens. The other girls remain asleep. The dorm is silent again, thick and heavy. Maybe it was just a pipe rattling, she tells herself. Just the wind.

  She pulls the thin blanket over her shoulders and forces her eyes closed.

  She does not know the bells were real.

  And they have already begun counting down.

  The sun rays found their way into the room, and the birds outside started singing. Radhvi woke up, the nightmare from the night before dissolving like salt in water. She remembered nothing of the bells—to her, it was just another bad dream in a life full of them. The sun was vibrant, the birdsong was beautiful, and even the flowers on the sill seemed to be smiling at the rare peace.

  'Radhvi, wake up! Baje is calling!'Shaunya’s voice was like a splash of cold water, but warmer. She didn't just yell; she jumped onto the edge of Radhvi’s cot, shaking her shoulders with a playful grin. In the light of the vibrant sun, Shaunya looked like the very definition of 'Home.' Her hair was a mess of tangled braids, and she already had a smudge of flour on her cheek—probably from sneaking into the kitchen early to help Baje with the morning meal.

  "I’m up, I’m up," Radhvi groaned, though she couldn't help but catch the infection of Shaunya’s energy.Shaunya leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I saw Baje hiding a batch of the good honey in the pantry. If we finish the courtyard sweeping before the others wake up, he might 'forget' to lock the lid."

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She reached out and squeezed Radhvi’s hand. Her grip was firm, steady, and full of the kind of trust that only comes from years of surviving together in the Iron Slums. To Radhvi, that hand felt like the only solid thing in a world that always felt like it was shifting.

  "Honey, huh?" Radhvi stood up, the lingering chill of the nightmare finally vanishing. "You’re a bad influence, Shaunya."

  "I'm your best influence," Shaunya corrected with a wink, heading for the door. "Now hurry! The sun is too beautiful to waste in."

  Radhvi stepped into the kitchen, the scent of boiling milk and ginger grounding her. Baje was humming a low, gravelly folk song, his weathered hands steady as he stirred the tea. In the courtyard, the younger children—Liya and Ratna—were shrieking with laughter. They were playing a game of ‘Hunters,’ some mimicking the heroic poses of the Superva, others crouching and growling as the ‘Abandoned Asuras.’

  It was a normal scene. So normal it felt like a painted mask—too bright, too perfect to be true.

  "Go to the bazaar," Baje (grandpa) instructed, handing Radhvi a list. "We need flour and salt before the evening rush."

  As they headed for the gate, Bajyei(grandma) hurried toward them, her face soft and lined with years of care. She pressed a few crumpled notes of dhaar(coin of Martya planet) into Radhvi’s palm, her eyes darting around as if she were committing a crime.

  "For candy," she whispered with a wink.

  Radhvi tried to push the money back. "We are big girls now, Bajyei," she said, her voice tinged with a playful annoyance. "We don't need sweets."

  "No one is ever too big for a little sweetness in Martya," Bajyei insisted, closing Radhvi's fingers over the money.

  Radhvi and Shaunya navigated the bazaar, which felt like a living, breathing beast. The air was a thick soup of bargaining voices, the smell of fried spices, and the clattering of carts. It was loud, chaotic, and yet—peaceful. It was the kind of peace bought with the blood of human heroes, the legendary defenders of Martya. Most people here had forgotten that price, their smiles easy and their laughter loud.

  They finished the shopping, even buying the candy as Bajyei had ordered. The sun began to dip, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange.

  "Look!" Shaunya suddenly pointed upward, her voice sharp with excitement. "A falling star!"

  High above, a streak of brilliant, unnatural light tore through the clouds. It wasn't the soft glow of a meteor; it was a jagged, burning gold.

  "Quick, join your hands and make a wish, Radhvi!" Shaunya urged, her own eyes already squeezed shut.

  May our orphanage be happy every day, Radhvi wished silently, her heart swelling. And may Shaunya's wish to join the Superva come true.

  But as the words formed in her mind, the "wrong" feeling from her nightmare surged back with the force of a tidal wave. Her skin turned cold. The "star" wasn't fading; it was growing larger, screaming toward the horizon in the exact direction of the orphanage.

  Boom.

  The sound wasn't just a noise; it was a physical blow that shook the earth beneath their boots. Suddenly, everything went silent. The bazaar's roar vanished. The wind stopped dead. The birds went mute. It was as if the world itself had held its breath and died.

  "Shaunya... run!"

  They sprinted, the grocery bags tearing and spilling candy across the dirt like discarded jewels. Radhvi’s lungs burned, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as they rounded the final corner.

  But they didn't find the gate, or the kitchen, or Baje’s tea. The world was replaced by a hollow, ringing sound in her ears. Where the laughter of Liya and Ratna had been just an hour ago, there was only a rising pillar of black smoke.

  They were left with nothing.The world went black.... everything seems dark and the world seems to fill with silence.

  ___Do you think the bells are going to stop ringing now? Do you think the warning was final? Nope. They were only the invitation.