The wind howled against the rooftops as Vihan and Zara sprinted across the crumbling buildings, leaping over rusted pipes and loose bricks. Below them, the city stretched on, oblivious to the battle unfolding in the shadows.

  Vihan’s breath came in ragged bursts, his heart hammering against his ribs. The leader’s words still echoed in his mind—You were always meant to be.

  His foot slipped on the slick concrete, but Zara yanked him upright before he could fall.

  “Focus, genius!” she snapped. “We’re not dying on some rooftop tonight!”

  Vihan clenched his jaw and pushed forward. They had to keep moving. The Council’s agents wouldn’t stay down for long, and Asha was still in their hands.

  As they reached the edge of the building, Zara skidded to a stop. “We need to get down—fast.”

  Vihan followed her gaze. A rusted service ladder ran down the side of the building, leading into a narrow alleyway below.

  He hesitated. “That thing looks older than time itself.”

  “Would you rather jump?” Zara deadpanned.

  Vihan sighed. “Point taken.”

  One by one, they climbed down, their movements swift but careful. The moment their feet hit the ground, Zara pulled him into the shadows, pressing him against the cold brick wall.

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  Footsteps. Close.

  A black car idled near the alley’s entrance, its tinted windows reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights.

  Zara exhaled through her nose. “They’re searching for us.”

  Vihan swallowed hard. “And Asha.”

  A muscle tensed in Zara’s jaw. “We’ll get her back.”

  Vihan’s fingers curled around the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. His mother had told him to protect the book, but right now, protecting Asha mattered just as much.

  “Come on,” Zara whispered. “We need to disappear.”

  Thirty minutes later, they arrived at an old, abandoned textile factory on the outskirts of the city. The building was falling apart—rusted beams, shattered windows, a lingering scent of damp cloth and oil.

  Vihan followed Zara inside, stepping over broken crates and torn fabric. “And this is… safe?”

  Zara smirked. “Trust me.”

  In the center of the factory, hidden beneath layers of discarded material, was a trapdoor. Zara lifted it effortlessly, revealing a staircase leading underground.

  Vihan stared. “How many hideouts do you have?”

  “Enough,” she said, motioning for him to follow.

  The underground space was small but functional. Old chairs, a flickering lightbulb, a table cluttered with maps and electronic equipment.

  Vihan dropped onto a chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what now?”

  Zara sat across from him, her eyes sharp. “We need to get Asha back before they move her somewhere we can’t reach.”

  Vihan nodded. “And we need answers. That guy—he knew my name. He knew about the prophecy.”

  Zara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “And you think it’s a coincidence your mom disappeared protecting that book?”

  Vihan’s stomach twisted. “No.”

  Silence settled between them.

  Then Zara exhaled. “We’re gonna need help.”

  Vihan frowned. “From who?”

  Zara pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts. “Someone who hates the Council almost as much as we do.”

  She tapped a name and sent a message.

  Seconds later, a single reply came through.

  Vihan looked at her. “Who is it?”

  Zara smirked.

  “An old friend.”