Vihan’s pulse thundered in his ears. His mother’s image flickered in the hologram, her expression unreadable, her breath shallow.

  "Why do you think we need you?"

  The man in the suit’s words coiled around him like a snake, suffocating, squeezing.

  This wasn’t just about the Bhagavad Gita. It never had been.

  This was about him.

  Zara shifted beside him, her grip tightening on her knife. “Whatever game you’re playing, I suggest you start explaining real fast before I carve that smug look off your face.”

  The man chuckled. “Ah, Zara. Always so violent.” He turned his gaze back to Vihan. “But this isn’t about her. Or Asha. Or even your mother.”

  He took a slow step forward.

  “This is about you, Vihan.”

  Vihan clenched his fists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The man’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t you?”

  The hologram flickered again, the signal distorting. His mother seemed to struggle against unseen restraints, her lips parting as if to speak.

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  Then, for the briefest moment, her voice crackled through the static.

  "You have to—"

  The feed cut to black.

  Vihan’s breath hitched. “What did you do?!”

  The man shrugged. “Nothing. The signal isn’t perfect—yet.” He studied Vihan carefully. “But that’s why we need you.”

  Zara stepped between them, her body tense. “Yeah, see, that’s not an answer.”

  The man exhaled. “Alright.” He clasped his hands behind his back, as if addressing a student rather than a threat. “Tell me, Vihan… do you know why your mother was running?”

  Vihan gritted his teeth. “Because of you.”

  The man shook his head. “No. Because of what’s inside you.”

  The room went silent.

  Vihan’s stomach twisted. “What?”

  The man’s voice was smooth. Patient. “Your mother wasn’t just protecting the book, Vihan. She was protecting you.”

  Vihan’s breathing grew shallow. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  The man tilted his head. “Doesn’t it?”

  He stepped closer. “Have you ever wondered why you’ve always been drawn to the prophecy? Why the visions started when you were a child?”

  A chill ran down Vihan’s spine.

  No.

  No, this was a trick.

  The Council manipulated people. They twisted the truth to serve their own ends.

  But the memories clawed at the back of his mind—the visions, the voices, the pull toward the temple, the way the Bhagavad Gita had called to him.

  His whole life, he had felt like he was searching for something.

  What if… what if he was?

  The man’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The prophecy doesn’t just speak of Kalki’s return, Vihan.”

  He leaned in.

  “It chooses him.”

  Vihan’s body locked up.

  Zara stiffened. “Okay, nope. We’re done here.” She grabbed Vihan’s arm. “We’re leaving.”

  But Vihan couldn’t move.

  His mind was spiraling, the world tilting beneath his feet.

  The visions. The pull to the temple. His mother’s desperate protection.

  The Council hadn’t been searching for Kalki.

  They had been searching for him.

  And now, they had found him.