THE FALLEN DIVINITY

For the remaining classes, an uneasy tension lingered between Arunika, Manash, and Akshay. Sharing the same elective classes, both Arunika and Manash kept a close watch on Akshay's every move. His calm demeanor was disarming, and the undercurrent of his earlier confrontation remained fresh in their minds. Yet despite their vigilance, Akshay carried himself with a composure that betrayed nothing.

Meanwhile, Akshay seemed like an entirely different person—a regular student blending seamlessly into the fabric of the classroom. He sat beside his new friend Raj, who enthusiastically introduced him to the rest of his group. The others greeted him warmly, though there was a subtle, unspoken concern in their glances. They were careful, worried that they might unintentionally offend Akshay, knowing he relied on his crutch to walk.

But Akshay played his part perfectly. He laughed at their jokes and even shared the story behind his crutch, describing an accident that left him needing it. His explanation was casual, almost rehearsed, designed to set others at ease. To anyone watching, he was nothing more than a typical teenager, navigating his new environment with grace and humor.

As the final class ended, the entire school gathered on the field for the closing ceremony. Students from grades 9 to 12 lined up in neat rows beneath the national flag. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the assembly, the hum of conversations fading into quiet anticipation as everyone settled into their places.

The principal, a man in his mid-fifties, wearing a dhoti and kurti, stepped forward with several teachers, and they all stood together, facing the Tiranga.

As the faculty and students looked at the national flag, the anthem began, the voices of teacher and students rose in unison.

"Jana Gana mana Adhinayaka Jaya He Bharata Bhagya Vidhata Panjaba Sindhu Gujarata Maratha Dravida Utkala Banga"

The anthem echoed through the grounds, carried by a soft breeze that made the Tiranga flutter proudly above them.

"Vindhya Himachala Yamuna Ganga Ucchala Jaladhi Taranga Tava Shubha Name Jage Tava Shubha Ashish Maange Gahe Tava Jaya Gatha Jana Gana Mangala Dayaka Jaya He Bharata Bhagya Vidhata Jaye he! Jaye he! Jaye he! Jaye he!"

As the anthem concluded, the principal's voice rang out with pride and encouragement, "Bharat Mata Ki!"

"Jai!" echoed the voices of the students and teachers, resonating with unity and strength. The Tiranga stood tall, waving majestically, a symbol of their collective might and spirit.

As the school day ended with the national anthem, students began heading home. Some rode bicycles, others walked to nearby bus stops, and a few lingered by the school gate, waiting for their parents.

Akshay stood near the gate, leaning on his crutch, his bag slung over one shoulder. His eyes scanned the road ahead, his face unreadable. Across the compound, Manash and Arunika observed him closely, their suspicion refusing to wane after the unsettling events during the break.

Moments later, Vani, Bikram, and Suraj emerged from the school building, joining the pair.

"So, what did you find out about him?" Bikram asked, his curiosity laced with concern.

Manash shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. "Nothing."

Arunika crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on Akshay. "When we spoke to him during the break, it was like his face gave nothing away. But his eyes…" She paused, her tone darkening. "They were full of anger and frustration. He's hiding something."

Her words deepened the unease within the group. They exchanged worried glances, the same unspoken question lingering among them. Who exactly was Akshay, and why did he feel so out of place?

Suddenly, a sleek car pulled up in front of Akshay. Without hesitation, he limped over to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid inside. Just before closing it, he glanced back toward Manash and the others. His cold, unreadable gaze lingered for a moment before he disappeared behind the tinted glass.

The car sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

"Should we follow him?" Suraj asked cautiously, his eyes darting between the group and the now-distant car.

Manash hesitated, his mind racing. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "No. Let's not focus on him for now. We'll figure it out when the time is right."

The group exchanged uneasy looks, their questions still unanswered. One thing was certain, Akshay wasn't just another transfer student, and whatever he was hiding would eventually come to light.

Inside the car, Akshay sat in silence, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee. The air was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the soft hum of the engine. Virat, a man in his late thirties, sat in the driver's seat. His sharp features and piercing gaze radiated an aura of authority, leaving no doubt he was not a man to be trifled with.

"So," Virat's deep voice broke the silence, sharp and deliberate, "how was it?"

Akshay didn't turn to look at him. His gaze stayed fixed on the window, watching the scenery blur past. "Nothing special," he said curtly. "But I'll need more time."

Virat's lips curled into a faint smirk as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, studying Akshay's expression. "More time, huh? Did you at least make some friends?"

Akshay's head snapped toward him, his face hard and unyielding. "Friends?" His voice was edged with bitterness. "Why didn't you tell me that place is crawling with Devangsh?"

The smirk vanished from Virat's face, replaced by a sharp, knowing look. "What did you expect?" he said, his tone calm but cold. "That school was founded by a Devangsh."

Akshay's jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Then why send me there?" he demanded, his voice rising with anger. "You know I can't…"

"You will!" Virat's voice cracked like a whip, cutting through Akshay's protests. The atmosphere in the car shifted, heavy and oppressive. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. "You're not special, Akshay. You're just a pawn in a game far bigger than you. Do you understand that?"

Akshay's fists balled in his lap, his expression darkening further. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered, his voice low but trembling with anger. "You know I—"

"Did you forget what you've done?" Virat interrupted, his words a blade slicing through Akshay's defenses. "You killed them."

The accusation hung in the air like a storm cloud, suffocating and inescapable. Akshay's breath hitched, but he didn't respond.

Virat's eyes bore into him, relentless. "Your family. The people who took you in, who cared for you. You got them killed. Or have you conveniently forgotten?"

Akshay's shoulders tensed, his gaze dropping to his clenched fists. Virat's words weighed heavily on him, dredging up memories he had fought desperately to bury, memories that clawed at the edges of his mind.

"You're a stray," Virat pressed on, his tone merciless. "You don't even know what you are… a human or something else. No family. No place to belong in this world."

The words cut deep, but Virat didn't stop. "The only reason you're still breathing is because I took you in. Without me, you'd have been hunted down like an animal. I gave you a purpose, Akshay. So, stop wasting time whining about what you can or can't do."

Akshay's hands trembled in his lap, his grip tightening to the point where his knuckles turned white. But he said nothing. His defiance was smothered under the weight of his own guilt, his words trapped in his throat.

Virat exhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His voice softened, but only slightly, like the edge of a blade dulled just enough to prolong the pain. "You don't have a choice. No matter who's at that school—Devangsh, humans, or even the Devas themselves—you will follow my orders. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Akshay didn't respond. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the bitter truth he couldn't escape.

Finally, he nodded stiffly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Understood."

The car fell into a heavy silence, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Akshay turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him—a boy torn between fear, anger, and an unbearable truth.

The car fell silent again, but the tension remained, pressing down on both of them. Akshay turned his face back to the window, his reflection staring back at him—a boy torn between fear, anger, and an unbearable truth.

In the reflection, his eyes darkened, haunted by Virat's words. Each syllable echoed in his mind, a bitter reminder of the fractured existence he led. A stray. No family. No place in the world. A reality he couldn't escape.