The next morning arrived slowly—like a reluctant truth the night had failed to hide.
Sunlight crept through the curtains in thin, pale lines, touching the walls, the floor, and finally—Agastya's face. But he did not wake with his usual quiet alertness. His body felt heavy. His mind clouded.
The nightmare hadn't fully left him.
It lingered—like a shadow that refused to fade.
Agastya opened his eyes slowly. For a moment, he didn't move. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, unfocused… distant.
Fragments returned.
Darkness.
Blood.
Pain.
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to erase it.
His hand moved instinctively toward his right eye—the red one. He touched it gently. No burning. No pain.
But the memory of it… remained.
He sat up slowly.
The room felt normal.
Too normal.
And that made it worse.
In another room, Lucian hadn't slept at all.
The table before him was covered in scattered papers, medical journals, scribbled notes, and an open laptop glowing dimly. His eyes were red—not from emotion, but from exhaustion.
Still, they moved rapidly across the screen.
Searching.
Analyzing.
Rejecting.
Again and again.
"No… not possible…" he muttered under his breath.
His fingers tapped the keyboard faster.
"Corneal infection… no."
"Retinal hemorrhage… no."
"Neurological feedback anomaly…"
He stopped.
Silence.
Then he leaned back slightly, rubbing his forehead.
"Haa…" a tired breath escaped him.
"I can't find anything…"
Frustration tightened his jaw.
"This is impossible."
For the first time in years—Lucian Valle, a man who trusted science above all else—was facing something science refused to explain.
The door opened softly.
Indu stepped inside, her movements gentle, careful not to disturb the tension in the room.
She looked at him.
Really looked.
And what she saw… worried her.
"You haven't slept," she said quietly.
Lucian didn't look up immediately.
"I was working," he replied.
Indu walked closer, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.
"Agastya is sleeping peacefully now," she said softly.
"That's a relief."
Lucian finally looked at her.
There was no relief in his eyes.
"I still can't find the reason," he said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"I tested the fluid… examined every possible condition…" he continued, his gaze drifting back to the reports.
"Everything is normal."
He paused.
Then added, almost under his breath—
"But I know this is not normal."
Indu sat beside him.
There was a silence between them—not empty, but filled with things neither of them wanted to say.
"Some things…" she began slowly, choosing her words carefully,
"…are not meant to be explained."
Lucian frowned slightly.
"Indu—"
She placed her hand over his.
"Some things are given," she continued softly,
"not understood."
Lucian looked at her.
A part of him resisted that idea.
The scientist in him rejected it completely.
But the father…
The father was starting to listen.
"I hope so," he said quietly.
Time moved forward.
The sun rose higher.
And with it—heat filled the air.
By noon, the world outside felt heavy and still.
Inside the house, things seemed… normal again.
Almost.
Agastya stepped outside.
The ground was warm beneath his feet. The air carried a dry stillness, broken only by distant sounds of life—birds, vehicles, voices.
He held a small toy car in his hand.
Simple.
Familiar.
Safe.
He placed it on the ground and pushed it forward, watching its movement carefully.
But something felt… different.
His vision wasn't the same.
It wasn't blurry.
It wasn't painful.
It was… deeper.
As if he could see more than before.
Shadows felt sharper.
Light felt stronger.
Movement… clearer.
Agastya paused.
He blinked.
Then shook his head slightly.
"It's nothing…" he murmured.
And went back to playing.
Children adapt quickly.
Even to things they don't understand.
From the doorway, Lucian and Indu watched him.
Neither spoke.
But both were thinking the same thing.
Is he really okay?
Then—
It happened.
Without warning.
Without reason.
Agastya suddenly froze.
The toy car slipped from his hand.
His body stiffened.
And then—
"Ahhh—!!"
His scream cut through the silence.
Sharp.
Painful.
Unnatural.
Indu gasped.
"Agastya!"
Lucian didn't waste a second.
He ran forward, reaching him instantly.
"What happened?!" he asked, already lifting him into his arms.
Agastya clutched his face tightly.
"My eye…!" he cried.
"It's burning—!"
Lucian's expression changed instantly.
"Inside. Now."
They rushed into the house.
The air inside felt cooler—but the tension burned hotter.
Lucian placed Agastya on the bed carefully.
"Move your hand," he said firmly.
Agastya hesitated.
"It hurts…"
"I know," Lucian replied, softer now.
"But I need to see."
Slowly… trembling… Agastya lowered his hand.
And for a moment—
Lucian froze.
The red eye…
Was glowing.
Not reflecting light.
Emitting it.
A deep, unnatural crimson.
Indu stepped back slightly, her hand covering her mouth.
"Lucian…" her voice trembled.
But Lucian didn't respond.
His mind had already shifted.
From father—
To doctor.
"Look at me," he said calmly.
Agastya tried.
Barely.
"Good," Lucian continued, quickly preparing drops from a small medical kit.
"This will help."
"Will it stop hurting…?" Agastya whispered.
"Yes," Lucian said.
Even though he wasn't sure.
He applied the drops carefully.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Slowly—
The glow began to fade.
The redness softened.
The tension in Agastya's face eased.
"It's… better…" he said weakly.
Lucian exhaled quietly.
"Good."
Indu rushed forward, hugging him tightly.
"You're okay… you're okay…"
But Agastya looked up at his father.
Confusion filled his eyes.
"Papa…" he said softly.
Lucian met his gaze.
"Why does this only happen to me?"
The question hit harder than any symptom.
"Am I… cursed?"
Silence.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Indu's grip tightened.
Her breath caught.
Lucian felt something inside him crack.
But he didn't show it.
He moved closer.
Wrapped his arms around his son.
Gently.
Firmly.
"No," he said.
His voice steady.
Controlled.
"This is normal."
Agastya looked at him.
Really looked.
"Normal…?" he repeated.
"Yes," Lucian continued.
"Your eye is sensitive. The sunlight reflected and caused irritation. That's why it burned."
A lie.
Carefully constructed.
Gently delivered.
Agastya thought for a moment.
Then nodded slowly.
"Okay…"
Because he trusted him.
Completely.
But behind that trust—
Fear remained.
Unspoken.
Unanswered.
Later that afternoon—
The house fell into silence again.
Agastya slept in his room, exhaustion pulling him into a deep, dreamless rest.
Indu sat alone.
In the corner of her room.
Facing the wall.
Her shoulders trembled.
She was crying.
Quietly.
But completely.
Lucian stood at the doorway for a moment.
Watching.
Then he walked in.
Slowly.
Without a word—
He wrapped his arms around her from behind.
That was enough.
Indu broke.
She turned and held him tightly, her tears finally falling freely.
"What if it's true…?" she whispered.
Lucian frowned slightly.
"What?"
"What if… he really is…" she couldn't finish the sentence.
Lucian stiffened.
Then pulled her closer.
"He is our son," he said firmly.
"The son of Lucian Valle and my queen Indrayani "
"Nothing else matters."
"But—"
"He is not cursed," Lucian interrupted.
His voice stronger now.
"He is… different."
He paused.
Then added—
"And that's not a weakness."
Indu looked at him.
Searching.
Hoping.
"I trust you…" she whispered.
Lucian kissed her forehead gently.
"Good."
But when he left the room—
His expression changed.
He walked into the living room.
Sat down.
And leaned forward, his hands clasped together.
For the first time—
He spoke honestly.
To himself.
"This is not normal…"
His voice was low.
Almost lost in the silence.
"But if I lose control…"
He exhaled slowly.
"…everything will fall apart."
Evening came.
Soft.
Quiet.
Deceptively peaceful.
Indu worked in the kitchen.
The gentle sound of utensils filled the air.
Agastya sat in front of the television.
Watching.
Laughing occasionally.
As if nothing had happened.
As if everything was fine.
Lucian lay in his room.
Eyes closed.
But not resting.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Because deep down—
He knew.
This was only the beginning.
Not an illness.
Not an accident.
But something else.
Something… awakening.
And somewhere—
Beyond understanding.
Beyond logic.
Beyond fear—
That awakening had already begun.
Slow.
Silent.
Something
Inevitable....
TO BE CONTINUED....