At the mountaintop, the sun is now fully risen. Ayan and Mohan are at the edge of the cliff....

  Mohan retrieved the thick rope they had used earlier. Casually, he grabbed one end of the rope and then tossed the other end toward Ayan. It landed neatly at his feet. "Tie it around your waist," he said, his voice calm but firm.

  Ayan looked down at the rope, then at the steep drop below. He knew what his father was doing. This was his test. He picked up the rope, the rough fibers feeling strangely comforting in his hand. He hesitated for a moment, the image of the sheer drop flashing through his mind. But then he thought of the power that now resided within him, the responsibility that came with it. His fingers tightened around the rope, and that’s when he noticed—his palm, the one his father had cut just moments ago, felt… nothing. No sting, no ache, not even a dull throb. He unwrapped the bandage slightly, eyes widening. The wound, which should have been fresh and raw, was barely more than a faint mark. It had almost healed. Somehow.

  He took a deep breath and secured the rope around his waist.

  "Ready?" Mohan asked, his expression serious but with a hint of encouragement in his eyes.

  Ayan nodded, his voice steady now. "Ready."

  Mohan stepped to the edge, the rope now taut between them. He didn't begin his own descent. He simply held the secured other end of the rope, giving Ayan the lead.

  Ayan took a deep breath and stepped to the edge. The descent was terrifying. The path was narrow, the rocks slippery, and the drop below seemed endless. He had to rely on himself, on his own strength and skill. He focused on each step, his muscles burning with the effort.

  For the first few meters, Mohan kept a firm grip on the rope, providing a steadying influence. Ayan felt the reassuring tension, knowing his father was there to catch him if he slipped.

  But as Ayan gained confidence, Mohan gradually loosened his grip. Ayan noticed the subtle change, and his heart pounded a little harder. The safety net was disappearing. His breathing grew shallower as the realization set in—he was relying entirely on his own balance and strength now. He swallowed hard, focusing on each handhold, each foothold, his senses heightened.

  Then, after a particularly tricky section, Ayan felt it—the rope was completely slack. His stomach lurched. Mohan had let go.

  His breath caught in his throat. His fingers clenched the rope tighter. His pulse hammered in his ears. He forced himself to keep moving, but the fear was real now. The vast emptiness below felt deeper, the rock face less forgiving. His palms, oddly free of pain from the earlier cut, were slick with sweat.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

  Naturally, he looked down.

  Instant regret.

  The ground seemed impossibly far away, and his vision swam for a second. His grip almost slipped. He bit back a curse. Breathe, idiot. Move.

  He gritted his teeth and focused. Somehow, step by step, he made his way down.

  Then, finally, he reached the bottom. His legs felt wobbly, his arms were trembling, but he had done it. He had conquered the climb. Relief flooded through him as he turned to look up, expecting to see Mohan still at the top.

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  But Mohan was gone.

  Ayan’s heart stopped. Panic seized his chest. What? Where—? He frantically scanned the rocky summit. Had something happened? Had his father fallen? He hadn’t heard anything—no sound, no movement. Nothing.

  Then, movement below caught his eye.

  Mohan was standing at the base of the rock, arms crossed, waiting for him.

  Ayan’s mouth fell open.

  The rope, still tied loosely around Ayan’s waist, slipped free and fell to the ground near Mohan’s feet. Ayan just stared at him, his brain short-circuiting.

  "H-how?" he stammered. "I—I didn’t see you move. You were just up there! I was just—how did—?"

  Mohan raised an eyebrow, his face betraying none of the impossibility of the situation. "Years of hard training, Ayan," he said smoothly. "That is how you achieve such things."

  Ayan blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. His father’s face remained calm, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  Ayan squinted at him. "You didn’t climb down, did you?"

  Mohan’s lips twitched. "Oh, I absolutely did."

  Ayan pointed an accusing finger. "You teleported or flew or something, didn’t you?"

  Mohan sighed dramatically. "Ayan, Ayan, Ayan… Do you think I’d lie to you?"

  "Yes!"

  Mohan clapped a hand on Ayan’s shoulder. "Good instincts, my boy."

  Ayan groaned. "Then how did you get down before me?"

  Mohan stretched lazily, as if this was all perfectly normal. "Simple. I jumped."

  Ayan’s face went blank. "You… what."

  Mohan gestured up at the cliff. "Leapt off. Straight down. It’s faster than climbing, you know."

  Ayan opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "You—BUT HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!"

  Mohan smirked. "Ah, now that’s the real question, isn’t it?"

  Ayan buried his face in his hands. "This is not normal."

  Mohan chuckled. "Neither am I."

  - - - - - -

  They reached the car without incident, the crisp morning air carrying the fresh scent of last night's dew on the end of tree leaves…

  Ayan pulled out his phone the moment they got into the car. Finally, a signal. He scrolled through his messages and found the “Movie Night” group chat.

  His eyes widened. The chat was already a disaster zone.

  Dhanuwa: “AYAN. YOU READY?! We’re on our way from Wake!”

  Tharinda: “Bro, we got snacks. A mountain of them. Including that extra-spicy chili mix that made you cry last time.”

  Dhanuwa: “What movie are we watching? I vote horror. Something that will make Ayan scream so loud, the neighbors call the police.”

  Tharinda: “Oh yes. And we brought glow-in-the-dark skeleton pajamas.”

  Ayan sighed. This was going to be painful. He started typing:

  Ayan: “Guys, I’m so sorry. I can’t make it to movie night.”

  A solid two seconds of silence. Then the nuclear meltdown began.

  Dhanuwa: “EXCUSE ME???”

  Tharinda: “WHAT KIND OF BETRAYAL IS THIS???”

  Dhanuwa: “WE ARE WEARING SKELETON PAJAMAS FOR YOU.”

  Tharinda: “THE CHILI MIX, AYAN. IT’S IN A SEALED BAG, BUT I CAN HEAR IT JUDGING ME.”

  Dhanuwa: “WE HAVE POPCORN, AYAN. THE GOOD KIND. CARAMEL DRIZZLE. AND NOW IT’S MEANINGLESS.”

  Ayan took a deep breath and typed:

  Ayan: “Dad changed plans. We’re going camping instead.”

  The chat went dead. Not a single response for a full ten seconds. It was more terrifying than the horror movie they’d planned to watch. Then:

  Dhanuwa: “Wait… camping? Like, outside? With a bonfire? And real food?”

  Tharinda: “And grilled meat? And spooky stories?”

  Dhanuwa: “And no Wi-Fi, so we actually have to TALK to each other?”

  Tharinda: “Hold up. Are we talking premium camping or ‘help, I’m being eaten by mosquitoes’ camping?”

  Ayan: “Dad’s grilling. And telling old horror stories.”

  Dhanuwa: “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO? THIS IS A LEVEL UP.”

  Tharinda: “Cancel movie night. We’re raiding Ayan’s camping trip instead.”

  Dhanuwa: “Packing extra snacks. And pajamas. We scream louder in the woods.”

  Ayan stared at the screen, stunned. He had braced himself for betrayal, maybe even a dramatic unfriending, but instead, his friends had completely hijacked his dad’s plan.

  He glanced at his father, who was still focused on the road, a slight smirk on his face—like he somehow knew this would happen.

  Ayan shook his head, smiling. This was going to be one chaotic camping trip.He looked out the window, the familiar landscape now seeming imbued with a new sense of mystery.