By the time the sun began to sink into the sea, my legs no longer felt like my own.
They were heavy.
Numb.
Every muscle in my tiny body burnt as if fire had been poured into my bones.
I stood at the foot of the cliff steps, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, staring up at the endless stone staircase I had climbed again and again.
One hundred times.
Master Arjun Dev Rathore had not been joking.
The Iron General stood at the top of the stairs, his silhouette framed by the crimson sky.
His arms were crossed.
His face was unreadable.
The black flag of the War Hall snapped violently behind him, the sword-and-shield symbol glowing in the fading sunlight.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself upward.
One step.
Then another.
My knees trembled.
My palms were scraped raw from the earlier falls.
My throat was dry.
By the time I reached the final step, the world around me spun.
Still, I looked up.
I wanted him to see that I had done it.
That I had not given up.
For a long moment, he simply looked at me.
Then—
a single nod.
"Good."
Just one word.
Yet somehow, it felt heavier than everything I had endured the whole day.
The moment I heard it, my legs finally betrayed me.
I collapsed.
Hard.
The stone floor hit my knees first, then my hands.
A sharp hiss escaped my lips.
And for the first time that day—
The Iron General laughed.
A deep, rumbling sound like distant thunder.
"So," he said, stepping closer, "the little tiger still stands."
Little tiger.
That was what Dadu used to call me.
The words struck my chest harder than the climb had.
Home.
The thought of it made my throat tighten.
Before I could respond, another voice reached us.
"You'll break him before the second sunrise."
It was soft.
Warm.
I turned.
The woman in white approached, moonlight touching the edges of her coat.
Her face was calm.
Kind.
Yet her eyes held the sharp intelligence of someone who had seen too much pain.
She knelt beside me.
"I am Dr Meera Sen."
Her voice was gentle.
"Master of Healing."
"Guardian of the Celestial Healing Hall."
"And tonight, your second teacher."
Before I could say anything, her fingers touched the bruise on my knee.
A warm golden glow spread from her palm.
Soft.
Comforting.
The pain melted away.
My eyes widened.
"You healed it…"
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Pain teaches strength."
Her hand moved to my scraped palm.
"But not every wound needs to remain."
The warmth in her voice reminded me of Samantha Sharma.
The way Didi used to clean my scraped elbows whenever I fell from the swing.
The way she would scold Anand bhaiya if he pushed me too high.
My eyes burnt.
Dr Meera noticed.
Her gaze softened.
"You miss them."
It wasn't a question.
I lowered my eyes.
The golden token around my neck felt heavier than before.
I nodded.
Very slowly.
The sea breeze carried the scent of night flowers from deeper within the island.
Above us, the sky had darkened into a deep blue ocean of stars.
So many stars.
Far more than I had ever seen from Delhi.
Master Arjun turned away.
"No more training tonight."
I looked up in surprise.
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Even warriors need rest."
Then he walked away.
But before disappearing into the darkness, he added:
"Tomorrow, we begin again."
Later that night, I sat alone near the edge of the cliff.
The island was strangely quiet.
Only the sound of waves crashing far below and the whisper of wind through the trees kept me company.
Above me, the stars stretched endlessly.
Bright.
Cold.
Watching.
I pulled my knees to my chest.
And for the first time since waking up on this island—
I let myself remember.
Home.
The twin villas.
No walls.
No boundaries.
One family.
One heart.
The Sharma family and the Yadav family are living together as one.
The giant shared veranda.
The mango tree is standing proudly in the middle.
The neem tree beside it.
And the swing.
My swing.
I could still hear the laughter.
Cousins running around.
Samantha did push me from behind.
Anand bhaiya was pretending he was going to let go just to scare me.
I could still hear Dadi shouting from the veranda:
"Don't push him too high!"
Then Nanaji's loud laughter:
"Let the boy fly!"
A tear slid down my cheek.
Then another.
I could see everyone so clearly.
General Raghav Sharma is sitting in his chair with the newspaper in hand, pretending not to watch us while secretly smiling.
Naniji is feeding me mango slices.
Mother is calling everyone inside for dinner.
Both families are sitting together at one long dining table.
No one remembered where one house ended and the other began.
Because there was no difference.
I was the youngest.
The most pampered.
The darling of both homes.
And now—
I was alone.
"I want to go home…"
The words came out as a whisper.
Then the tears came.
Not from pain.
Not from fear.
But from longing.
The kind of longing only a child can feel.
A shadow fell beside me.
I quickly wiped my face.
Master Arjun stood there.
Silent.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
to my surprise—
He sat beside me.
The Iron General.
Sitting next to a crying child.
He looked up at the stars.
"When I was your age…"
His voice was quieter than before.
"…I was separated from my family too."
I turned to him.
His face remained calm, but his eyes carried something deep.
Something old.
"War took them from me."
The wind seemed to pause.
For the first time, the legendary master did not look like a warrior.
He looked like a man carrying pain.
"For years," he continued, "I lived with only one thought."
His gaze shifted toward me.
"Become strong enough that it never happens again."
The words struck deep.
I looked down at my hands.
Then at the golden token.
Then back at the stars.
Somewhere beyond that sea—
My family was searching.
Waiting.
Hoping.
I wiped my tears.
Then looked at him.
"I'll become strong."
His eyes met mine.
And for the first time—
I saw approval.
"Yes."
His voice was firm.
"And one day…"
"You will return home."
For the first time since arriving on this island—
I truly believed it.
The stars above seemed brighter.
As if destiny itself had heard my vow.