For the next few days, it felt like the world kept moving, but Armaan stayed still.
He wasn't skipping responsibilities—no, far from it. He was still the same school monitor, walking through the corridors with that calm but piercing gaze. Still the same Rakshak who patrolled the shadows of the city by night, sword in hand, snuffing out the screams of danawas and shaitaans before they reached innocent ears.
But those around him could feel it.
His body moved with purpose, but his mind…
It was like it had left without telling anyone.
In the middle of class, Ms. Sen would often catch him staring out the window, his eyes fixed on something that clearly wasn't there. A few days ago, she would've clicked her tongue or tapped his desk with that steel-scale ruler of hers. But now… she simply paused and sighed before continuing her lecture. Even she knew something was off.
"He's always so focused. What happened to that spark?" she murmured to herself once, loud enough for the student next to her to hear.
Even on the football field, where Armaan usually lit up the game like lightning in a storm, he barely pushed.
The coach blew his whistle more than usual, yelling across the grass, "You sleeping or just dreaming with your eyes open, Armaan?!"
He didn't answer.
He just nodded, said sorry in a flat tone, and jogged back into position with that same drilling silence in his eyes.
At night, the city's underbelly continued to stir with cursed things.
A danawa crept through the metro tunnels, its body composed of stitched limbs and shadowy wire. It lunged toward a group of late-night travelers—
But Armaan was already there.
By the time the danawa realized it, its head had been separated from its shoulders, and Armaan stood behind it, sheathing his blade slowly as its form turned to ash.
Another time, a shaitaan emerged near the city hospital—long arms, jagged fangs, and a tongue that flickered with poison. It hissed in the night wind—
But all it saw before death was a pair of brown eyes glowing faintly beneath a hood.
He didn't speak. He didn't taunt.
He just executed.
And yet, no matter how many monsters he defeated or hallways he walked through…
Armaan wasn't there.
His soul was somewhere else. Somewhere deep.
The school bell had rung an hour ago.
The corridors of Marian High were mostly silent now, save for the occasional footsteps of staff members heading home. But in the empty classroom 11-B, lit by the soft golden hue of the setting sun seeping through the windows, three students sat opposite Ms. Sen, their faces tight with concern.
Alya, Samar, and Roumit.
She had called them in quietly with a gentle seriousness, the kind that told them this wasn't about detention or missed homework.
"What's going on with Armaan?"
Ms. Sen's voice was low, eyes full of concern. "He's not... himself. I've been teaching long enough to see when someone is carrying something heavy. But he won't say a word to me. I was hoping... maybe you three knew something."
There was a long pause.
Then Samar slowly shook his head.
"Even I don't know what's going on with him." His voice was quiet. "Sometimes he starts to talk… and just pauses mid-sentence. It's like something suddenly pulls his mind away. Just the other day, after coaching, we were walking home."
[FLASHBACK BEGINS]
The three of them were walking down the sidewalk as the sun dipped below the city's edge, their schoolbags slung low and tired conversation flowing between them.
Samar glanced over at Armaan, who had been dead silent the entire way.
"Bro, you good?" he asked.
Armaan blinked and opened his mouth.
"Yeah, I was just thinking that—"
He paused.
Not like he was searching for the next word.
Like he had suddenly forgotten the entire sentence.
He turned his head toward the ground, lost in something invisible.
They kept walking, approaching the road crossing. The pedestrian light blinked red, warning them to wait.
But Armaan didn't.
He kept walking forward, eyes locked on the concrete as a black sedan turned into the lane, its headlights cutting through the dusk—
"ARMAAN!" Roumit shouted and yanked him back by the shoulder, just in time.
The car honked loudly as it swerved past them, the driver yelling something indecipherable from the window.
"Are you insane?!" Roumit yelled, grabbing Armaan by the collar.
"Don't you look at the lights?! What were you doing?!"
Armaan just… looked away.
His expression didn't change. His voice didn't come.
Only those same eyes—still, sharp, but far away—remained.
[FLASHBACK ENDS]
Back in the classroom, Roumit leaned forward, his fists clenched on the desk.
"I swear, when he looked away like that, it felt like he wasn't even hearing me. After that... I've just been scared for him."
Alya looked down at her hands in her lap, her voice barely a whisper.
"He doesn't even smile anymore."
She looked up, her brows tightening with emotion. "One day, after he dropped me home... I told him he felt distant. Like he wasn't even standing next to me. He didn't reply. Just stared for a moment... then turned away without a word."
The classroom went quiet.
Ms. Sen's lips pressed together, concern flooding her features.
She could see it clearly now. This wasn't just teenage brooding. This was something buried, something that had locked Armaan inside his own mind. And whatever it was—it was pulling him deeper by the day.
Ms. Sen narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.
"So what do you think it is then? Could it be something about his Rakshak duties? Something related to that world?"
Samar leaned forward, shaking his head lightly. "No… if it was that, we would've known. Right, Roumit?"
Roumit, who had been sitting quietly, nodded. "Yeah. He's always shared everything with us. Happy or sad—he never kept anything to himself." He paused, his fingers tapping slowly against the bench. "He even told us about being a Rakshak long before the world found out… This is the first time he's hiding something from us."
Samar gave a slow, understanding nod. "Exactly."
There was a brief silence in the room. The kind of silence that grows heavy—filled with things unsaid and emotions unspoken. Even the ticking of the wall clock seemed louder for a moment.
Ms. Sen crossed her arms, looking out the window toward the school field that was now almost empty, save for a few players lingering near the goalpost. "I've taught students for a long time, but he's different. It's as if his silence has… weight."
Ms. Sen tapped her fingers gently on the table and asked softly, "Do you know someone who might be able to answer to this silence of his?"
There was a moment of quiet.
Then, Alya finally spoke up, hesitant at first. "What about… Advika?" Her lips curled slightly in distaste. "I hate to admit, but… they are close, aren't they?"
For a split second, all three heads in the room turned toward her, raising eyebrows—and Samar even smirked lightly. Her words had betrayed what she had been keeping to herself. The small blush that rose on her cheeks gave it all away.
Samar, breaking the silence, said, "I don't think so. They aren't that close… not close enough that he'd share something this serious with her but not with us."
"But what's the harm in asking?" Ms. Sen insisted. "If she knows something, it might help. Armaan's clearly going through something beyond the surface."
Alya exhaled. "Yeah… I do have her number. Let me call her."
She took out her phone and scrolled to the contact. The screen lit up with the name Rival👹.
Samar and Roumit leaned over to look, and their reactions were instant.
"What the hell?" Roumit whispered.
Samar blinked. "You really don't like her, huh?"
Alya just rolled her eyes and hit the call button. The line rang twice before it was picked up.
"Hello, Alya," came Advika's familiar voice from the other end, light and slightly teasing. "Remembered me after a long time, huh?"
Alya smiled stiffly. "Hey, Advika. Hope you're doing well."
"Hmm, something tells me this isn't a 'just catching up' call."
Alya didn't waste time. "Miss Advika… is there something Armaan has told you recently? Anything that suggests something is wrong? That something's bothering him?"
There was a pause on the line. A pause that instantly changed the atmosphere.
Then Advika's voice, usually upbeat, came out lower. "He doesn't even call me these days. It's been more than a week since we last talked. I was actually wondering the same thing. What's going on with him?"
Before Alya could respond, Samar leaned toward the phone. "This is the same thing we're worried about…"
"Oh? Samar? You're there too?"
Alya took the phone back and briefly explained the entire situation—Armaan spacing out, walking into traffic, ignoring those around him, even acting differently during battles.
Advika listened in silence.
Then she said seriously, "Why don't you all try asking his Rakshak teacher? That guy he calls 'Gramps'? What's his name again… Farmaan?"
Samar's eyes lit up. "Oh damn, yeah. Why didn't we think of him earlier?"
Roumit nodded. "Right. He's probably the one person who knows exactly what's going on inside Armaan's head."
Ms. Sen, confused, asked, "Farmaan? Who's that?"
Samar replied calmly, "His mentor. The one who trained him to be a Rakshak."
Even Alya muttered to herself, "Of course… Farmaan…"
Everyone fell into a moment of thought. The circle was slowly closing, and now, there was one person who might hold the answers to Armaan's silence.
Everyone looked at one another for a moment, and then Alya asked, "Wait… does anyone here actually have Farmaan's number?"
Samar scratched the back of his head. "Nope."
Roumit shrugged. "Same. Never needed it before."
Alya frowned. "I only ever saw him when Armaan was around… I don't have it either."
Then, Advika chimed in with the most brilliantly dumb question of the day, "So… why don't we just ask Armaan for his number?"
A pause.
Then everyone burst into laughter.
Samar nearly choked. "Ask Armaan? The guy we're trying to secretly help?"
Roumit laughed. "Yeah, great plan, Advika. 'Hey Armaan, we think you're losing your mind—mind giving us your mentor's number?'"
Even Alya smirked. "We're literally trying to keep this from him so he doesn't catch on and deflect the truth with some heroic drama."
Advika pouted slightly. "Okay, okay, I get it! Jeez. You don't have to roast me alive."
As the laughter died down, Roumit spoke up with a more grounded tone, "Why don't we just visit Farmaan directly? We do know where he lives. We've been there once, right Samar?"
Samar's face lit up, energized now. "Yeah! Near that old temple road, the one with the red gates. Let's go tomorrow after school."
"I'm coming too," Alya said firmly.
Advika crossed her arms, tossing her hair with a mock-royal flair. "Of course I'm coming. Someone needs to make sure none of you trip over your own plans."
Ms. Sen, who had been silently watching them with a growing smile, now stood up and looked at them seriously. "Good. And once you reach him, make him talk. I want answers. I want the usual Armaan back—the one who annoys me with his constant questions and over-achieving nonsense. Got it?"
The group stood straight like a battalion ready for deployment.
"Roger!" they said in unison—even Advika, who added an exaggerated salute with a grin.
The mission was on.
Tomorrow, they'd meet Gramps.
And hopefully, they'd bring their Armaan back.