It was a cold, dark night in Kullu.
So cold that bones could snap, the soul could shiver. Snow kept falling relentlessly from the sky, as if some invisible force had frozen time, leaving only the tears of whiteness to drip endlessly.
In such weather—when people should have been huddled near a fire—the entire village was outside.
Men, women — all gathered in a mob. Their faces burned with rage, their breath formed clouds in the icy air, and their eyes—held a mix of fear or hatred—it was hard to tell.
All eyes were fixed on one grand cottage — "Rana Cottage."
Once, the most affluent family of Kullu belonged to Siddharth Rana.
Today, eyes that once bowed with respect, now gleamed with rebellion.
"Kill him... brothers, kill him!
He's a traitor... a betrayer of the nation!
He must die!"
The angry voices rose, fists banged on the door of Rana Cottage, trying to break it down.
The wooden latch creaked under pressure—ready to snap at any moment.
"Papa…"
A frightened voice came from inside.
"Arya…" Siddharth Rana pulled the boy close.
"Listen to me, son..." His voice trembled, though he tried to steady it.
"You have to run from here… There's no time. They could break in any moment…"
Saying this, he took out a white, round stone from his pocket and fastened it around the neck of the girl standing beside them.
"Nakshatra… I've made a grave mistake, my child…
But I never saw you or Arya any differently.
If you can… please forgive me."
He looked back at Aryaman.
"Arya, you have to take care of Nakshatra now. Protect her. From today, she's your responsibility.
Promise me—you'll never leave her side."
"Papa…" Aryaman's tears flowed freely.
"Don't cry… my son is strong…"
Siddharth kissed his forehead.
"Promise me, son…"
He held out his hand. Aryaman, crying, placed his small hand over his father's — "Promise, Papa…"
Outside, the door was still being beaten violently.
Siddharth quickly opened a secret passage from the storeroom and guided the children toward it.
"Go far away, kids… far away from here… and always stick together…"
"Papa…" Aryaman clung to him tightly.
"I love you, son…" Siddharth whispered, kissing his forehead once more.
He looked at Nakshatra — the girl who was always cold and unreadable — but now tears shimmered in her eyes.
"No tears… be brave… take care of yourselves…"
He kissed her forehead too and motioned them to run.
"Papa…"
Aryaman wasn't ready to leave. He gripped his father's shirt tightly.
Siddharth's eyes welled up.
He gently but firmly released Aryaman's hand and pushed them out — closing the secret door behind them.
Aryaman banged on the closed door —
"Papa… Papa!"
Outside stood Govardhan, Siddharth's trusted servant.
His eyes brimmed too, but controlling his emotions, he grabbed both children and began running.
As they ran beyond the village limits, a loud explosion rang out.
They looked back —
And what they saw tore their hearts apart.
Rana Cottage was engulfed in flames.
"Papa… Uncle…"
Aryaman and Nakshatra screamed in unison, struggling to break free.
Seeing their pain, even Govardhan sobbed.
But he held on tight — he had to.
Their childhood, their world, everything was burning.
Their screams were heart-wrenching.
"Come on kids… if anyone sees you, they won't let you live either…"
Govardhan kept pulling them away, even as he himself looked back at the home he once served.
They stopped only once they were far beyond the borders of Kullu.
Govardhan knelt before them, voice choked with emotion:
"From here on, the journey is yours…
Never leave each other's side.
You both need one another.
May God guide you…"
Aryaman's eyes were swollen from crying, but Nakshatra had gone completely silent —
As if something inside her had turned to stone.
Govardhan handed them a small satchel:
"Your father told me to give you this…"
Then, without saying another word, he walked away quickly.
Had he stayed any longer, he might not have had the heart to leave them behind.
The two children stood there for a while.
Then Nakshatra, without a word, began walking toward the jungle.
Aryaman followed behind, still sobbing, step by step.
After walking some distance, they stopped under a large tree.
The cold wind pierced their bones, but grief and exhaustion had numbed their bodies.
They sat, facing opposite directions —
As if there was nothing left to say… or hear.
Nakshatra stared blankly at the locket around her neck —
The white stone, now a symbol of her identity.
She clutched it as her eyes searched the darkness for answers.
Meanwhile, Aryaman was lost in his memories —
In a life that now existed only as a memory.
His father—his superhero—was gone.
And once again, he broke down in sobs.