Vedika rolled her eyes in a show of theatrical reluctance. "Okay, okay. I'm drinking it." She grumbled playfully.
With a resigned sigh, she set aside her tools and unfinished circuitry — scattered microchips and blinking modules still sparking with data flow — and picked up the warm glass of Aam panna. Locking her gaze with Shivangi's, she lifted it to her lips and obediently took a long sip.
The tangy-sweet drink, laced with mint and cumin, slid down her throat — grounding her momentarily in something normal, even as a faint, uncontainable smile danced at the corner of her lips beneath her feigned reluctance.
Her expression twisted into mock annoyance, lips curled, but a faint smile betrayed her. She was trying not to show it, but Shivangi knew — deep down — Vedika appreciated the concern.
They sat in the softly humming sea-ship chamber, the rhythm of machines and occasional flicker of neon panels filling the background like a lullaby of modernity. Laughter and inside jokes sparked between them like warm electricity, weaving a delicate tapestry of friendship in the cold, sterile room.
For a brief moment, the world outside their research, beyond Azure and its chaos, didn't exist.
Unbeknownst to them, the universe had begun to shift. A quiet tension brewed beneath the surface, the kind that gently tugged at fate's strings before snapping them altogether.
Shivangi leaned back with her arms crossed, observing her bestie with a mix of pride and triumph. "Good." She said firmly, but her voice laced with gentle authority.
"I'm glad to see you've finally finished your drink. You work too hard, Vedika. But your health matters too. Don't forget that." She patted Vedika's back lightly, a gesture of affection and silent worry.
Vedika chuckled, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright, alright. No lectures today, please." She sat straighter, brushing crumbs off her lap before returning her focus to the console in front of her. "Now, back to business."
And just like that, the moment passed. Vedika snapped her attention back to the intricate circuitry on her workstation, her earlier levity dissolving into laser focus. She slipped on her interface gloves and tapped the wrist-top device strapped to her forearm. Instantly, projected schematics bloomed in the air around her—a lattice of code and energy, flickering with cryptic signals.
A soft pulse of energy blinked at her fingertips as she activated Nabhovajranetra—her cosmic observational skill that heightened visual perception to detect minute structural changes in circuits. A faint glow enveloped her irises as the world around her faded into a blur. The only things that remained in sharp focus were the nanowires dancing beneath her fingertips and the fluid motion of code flowing across her retina display.
The second skill, Abhayagami, kicked in next—enhancing her neural reflexes and multitasking bandwidth. Holographic veins shimmered faintly up her arms as the protocol synced with her nervous system. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself as her mind recalibrated to the accelerated data stream.
Now fully immersed, Vedika moved with the fluid precision of a pianist lost in symphony. Her fingers darted over the virtual interface, tweaking data flows, analyzing spectral outputs, tracing anomalies in the circuit's flow. Every action was deliberate. Every motion sharp and seamless. Her surroundings no longer existed—only the evolving mesh of light, code, and electrical harmony before her.
Shivangi, watching from the other side of the table, tilted her head thoughtfully. There was always admiration in her gaze, but tonight it was tinged with concern.
Vedika's focus was legendary. Her determination unmatched. Unparalleled. But I am worried that kind of intensity — came at a heavy price. She wondered, not for the first time, if Vedika even noticed how tired she looked.
Is this really sustainable? Shivangi wondered. How long before Vedika's body gave out?
She sighed. Still, she chose not to interrupt her.
Let her finish. She thought. I'll stay close. Just in case.
She reached for her own drink, but then stopped. Her gaze flicked to the window, then to the ceiling. A chill rippled down her spine. The fluorescent lights above flickered briefly, a stutter too small to trigger alarms but enough to be noticed.
Something felt... off.
"Did you hear something, Vedika?" Shivangi asked, the concern back in her voice.
Vedika frowned, still lost in her task. "No." She replied, her brows knitting together without looking up. Her fingers danced across the touchless interface screen, double-checked the wrist-mounted device. "Everything's fine on my end. Did you sense something?"
The lights stabilized. The hum of machines returned to their normal rhythm. But a small coil of tension wound itself in Shivangi's chest.
Shivangi hesitated, then shook her head, murmuring, "No. Nothing specific. Maybe I'm just... sensitive." She led out a small, nervous laugh, signaling Vedika to continue.
But the unease lingered.
Moments later, as Shivangi reached for her Aam panna again, her eyes widened in surprise — the glass had tipped over. Liquid spread across the table, already seeped towards Vedika's delicate equipment.
"Oh no —" Shivangi gasped. She lunged for tissues to stem the damage.
She frantically dabbed at the mess, trying to stop it from reaching more. That's when it happened.
A sharp crackle pierced the air.
Shivangi froze mid-motion, her eyes darting across the room to the old projector mounted near the ceiling. Its lights were flickering in a frenzy. Sparks burst from its edges, glowing orange and blue, hissing like angry serpents.
"Ved...!" Shivangi called out, her voice tight with fear. The urgency in her voice sliced through the static.
But Vedika was too deep—trapped in her own mental interface, too focused to notice the approaching storm.
"VEDIKA!" Shivangi screamed, panic now clawing at her throat. She tried to use her inner energy to form a protective shield around herself and Vedika.
But it was too late.
The projector let out a deafening, mechanical whine — a sound like grinding metal screaming in pain — before detonating in a violent explosion.
KA-BOOM!
A blinding flash swallowed the room, followed instantly by an earsplitting blast that tore through glass, metal, and circuitry. Fire erupted from the core device, and its shockwave rattled the reinforced walls like paper. The table flipped, papers spiraled into the air, and both girls were hurled across the chamber as the force ripped through the lab. Equipment crashed down around them, ceiling panels collapsed, and volatile chemicals combusted in a furious chain reaction.
Then — silence. Brief. Ominous. Followed by the low crackle of flames licking through the wreckage.
The air reeked of ozone and scorched plastic. An orange-red glow pulsed across the ruined space, dancing over broken monitors and blackened consoles. Smoke billowed like a living creature, thick and suffocating, wrapping itself around everything it touched.
Vedika stirred amidst the chaos. Time had unraveled into a haze of soundless motion. Her eyes fluttered open to a world drenched in ash and flame. Her vision swam, wavering between clarity and a deep blur. Pain throbbed relentlessly through her skull, each heartbeat a hammer strike behind her eyes.
She tried to move — her muscles screamed in protest. The sharp ache in her side made her gasp, and she coughed violently, her lungs burning with each breath. The taste of smoke and ozone clung stubbornly to her tongue, bitter and electric.
Around her, the lab that had once buzzed with energy and focus was now a charred battlefield. And somewhere in the smoke, another figure lay still.
"What... just happened?" she mumbled, her voice a dry rasp.
She looked around. Wreckage everywhere. Her table lay upturned, her tools scattered. Smoke curled from the projector's charred remains. Ash floated in the air like ghostly snowflakes.
And then she saw her — Shivangi.
Lying still.
"Shiv...?" Vedika croaked. She crawled forward, coughing violently as acrid fumes burned her lungs. Her hands shook as she reached out to her friend's motionless form.
"Shivangi! Wake up!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Please... Shivangi!"
She pressed her hand against Shivangi's cheek. It was warm, but there was no response. Her lips trembled. Panic swelled in her chest.
I can't lose her... not her...
Vedika tried to stand, to do something — anything. But her legs gave out. Her body felt like it was made of lead. Her breath came in short, painful bursts.
The fire was spreading.
Coughing violently again, Vedika's body slumped. Her eyes fluttered, dimming under the weight of exhaustion and smoke.
But just before unconsciousness could take her — something shimmered in the corner of her vision.
A tiny, glowing figure floated above the rubble. Childlike in appearance, delicate wings glimmering with bioluminescent threads.
{Master!}
The voice echoed in her mind — small, frantic, unmistakably familiar.
"Aloka...?" Vedika whispered. Her lips barely moved.
{You shouldn't be here...} she projected weakly through the telepathic link.
{I couldn't leave you!} Aloka's voice quivered but held steady. {I sensed danger. I had to come!}
"Foolish girl..." Vedika smiled faintly, a tear trailing down her soot-covered cheek.
The building trembled. Outside, the voices of a growing crowd reached through the chaos.
"Get the fire team!"
"We need more extinguishers! Not water — foam!"
{Master, don't worry. I'll protect you. I promise.}
Vedika blinked slowly. Her vision darkened around the edges. Her body was failing.
Her thoughts slipped into memory.
She saw Shivangi's laughing face. Their late-night talks. The moments of frustration, breakthroughs, triumphs. The day they first activated the Nabhovajranetra.
Just moments ago, they were laughing over Aam panna.
How did it all change so quickly?
Everything feels so far away now\...
Her gaze flickered to the scorched calendar on the wall. The words "Azure – Year 2545" barely visible.
So this is it.
Goodbye, Azure. Goodbye, everyone.
She turned her eyes to Shivangi one last time, her heart filled with both sorrow and gratitude.
If there's something beyond this... I hope we find peace. I hope we find each other.
Her final breath left her lips like a whisper.
A whisper carried through the flames.
And then — silence.