Chapter 2: Shadows of the Past
The low hum of the signal jammer filled the safe house as Vishakha returned, her dark suit carrying faint traces of dust and soot from her journey. She had moved through Jaipur’s labyrinthine backstreets, ensuring she wasn’t followed. Every step closer to the safe house heightened her awareness. The Shadow Order never left loose ends.
Manoj Shekhar sat at the table, his nervous energy palpable. The briefcase was still in front of him, his fingers drumming lightly against its edge. He looked up as she entered, his face lighting with equal parts relief and fear.
“You came back,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Vishakha ignored him for a moment, sweeping the room with her sharp gaze. The safe house was as she had left it—quiet, secure, and seemingly untouched. She turned back to Shekhar, her expression unreadable.
“Anything happen while I was gone?” she asked, closing the door and resetting the locks.
Shekhar shook his head quickly. “No. Nothing. I stayed right here, just like you said.”
“Good,” Vishakha replied, stepping toward the table. She removed her katars, placing them carefully on the surface before sitting across from him.
Her eyes flicked to the briefcase, then to Shekhar. “We need to go through everything in here. Every document, every file. If we’re going to stop Aryan, we need to know exactly what we’re up against.”
Shekhar hesitated, his fingers hovering over the briefcase. “And… what happens if we can’t stop him?”
Vishakha leaned forward, her gaze sharp. “If we don’t stop him, there won’t be a safe house, a city, or a country left for you to hide in. So start talking.”
He swallowed hard, nodding as he began pulling out the contents of the briefcase. Vishakha watched intently as he laid out the documents, USB drives, and the tablet she had decrypted earlier.
“This,” Shekhar said, tapping a set of documents, “details Aryan’s offshore accounts. He’s been laundering money through fake charities and trusts, funneling it into the Shadow Order’s operations.”
Vishakha’s brow furrowed. “Which operations?”
Shekhar hesitated. “Assassinations, destabilization campaigns… and something else. Something bigger.”
“Bigger how?”
He opened a manila folder, revealing blueprints and schematics. “These are plans for an AI surveillance network. Aryan calls it the Sutradhar Project. If it goes live, he’ll have access to everything—communications, infrastructure, military operations. He’ll control Bharat Varsha from the shadows, and no one will even know it’s happening.”
Vishakha’s stomach churned. The Shadow Order’s influence had always been vast, but this was different. If the Sutradhar Project succeeded, Aryan wouldn’t just control people—he’d control the systems that governed their lives.
She picked up the schematics, her sharp eyes scanning the intricate designs. “How far along is this project?”
“Close,” Shekhar said, his voice trembling. “Too close. They’ve already deployed parts of the network in key cities. Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru… and Varanasi.”
The mention of Varanasi sent a chill through Vishakha. She set the schematics down, her mind racing.
“And these names,” she said, gesturing to the list of sleeper agents she’d seen earlier. “They’re the ones making this possible?”
Shekhar nodded. “Politicians, military leaders, tech executives—they’re all compromised. They’ve been working from within to ensure the project’s success.”
Vishakha leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled as she processed the information. The pieces were falling into place: Aryan’s grand vision for control, Amrita’s role as his enforcer, and the Shadow Order’s relentless pursuit of power.
But there was something else—something gnawing at the edges of her mind.
“What’s the fallback plan?” she asked suddenly.
Shekhar blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Aryan’s too smart to rely on one plan,” Vishakha said. “If we dismantle this network, what’s his backup?”
Shekhar hesitated, his expression shifting to one of unease. “There’s… a facility,” he said finally. “In the desert. Rajasthan. It’s where they’ve been developing the AI systems and testing their capabilities. If you destroy that, you cripple the project entirely.”
Vishakha’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” Shekhar stammered. “The facility’s locked down tighter than anything I’ve ever seen. You can’t get in without—”
“I’ll find a way,” Vishakha interrupted, her voice sharp.
She stood, pacing the room as her mind churned with possibilities. The Rajasthan facility was a high-risk target, but it was also the keystone of Aryan’s plans. Taking it down would be a major blow to the Shadow Order.
But it wouldn’t be enough.
Her thoughts turned to Amrita. Her sister’s presence at the hotel hadn’t been a coincidence—it was a message. Amrita wanted her to know she was watching, waiting, and ready to strike.
Vishakha’s hands clenched into fists. If she was going to dismantle the Shadow Order, she would have to face Amrita—and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.
“What now?” Shekhar asked hesitantly.
Vishakha stopped pacing, her gaze fixed on him. “Now,” she said, her voice firm, “we go to Rajasthan. But first, we make sure Aryan doesn’t see us coming.”
She gathered the documents and drives, slipping them into a secure pouch. “You’ll stay here,” she continued. “Keep the briefcase hidden and don’t leave unless I tell you. If anyone finds you—”
“They won’t,” Shekhar said quickly. “I’ll stay put. I swear.”
“Good,” Vishakha said. She turned to the door, her katars strapped securely to her belt. “I’ll contact you when it’s done.”
As she stepped out into the night, the weight of the mission pressed heavily on her shoulders. The desert awaited, along with whatever secrets the Shadow Order had buried there.
And somewhere in the shadows, Amrita was waiting.
The streets of Jaipur stretched into the horizon, fading into a network of roads that threaded their way through Rajasthan’s barren landscape. Vishakha rode a beaten-down motorcycle she’d lifted from an inattentive courier earlier that night, its engine purring like a restless predator. The city lights behind her receded into the distance as the desert air grew colder and sharper with every passing kilometer.
The Rajasthan facility was still miles away, buried deep within the Thar Desert. The Shadow Order had always favored remote locations for their operations, places where prying eyes couldn’t interfere. She needed help to infiltrate it—someone who understood the kind of danger she was walking into.
And she knew exactly who that someone was.
The crumbling walls of an old haveli came into view, its once-pristine sandstone façade now weathered and scarred by time. The structure seemed to blend with the desert itself, its silhouette jagged and unwelcoming under the moonlight.
Vishakha stopped the motorcycle a few meters away, cutting the engine. The silence of the desert enveloped her, broken only by the faint whistle of the wind. She dismounted, her boots crunching against the sand as she approached the haveli’s rusted gate.
She pressed her palm against the old metal, leaning in. “Dev,” she called out, her voice low but carrying authority. “I know you’re in there. Open the door before I let myself in.”
For a moment, there was nothing but the rustling of the wind. Then, a faint creak echoed from within the haveli.
The gate swung open, revealing a wiry man with unkempt hair and an expression of barely restrained irritation. Devendra “Dev” Sinha was a relic of her past—a former Shadow Order operative who had defected years before she had. Unlike her, he’d managed to disappear completely, retreating to the outskirts of civilization where no one could find him.
Until now.
“Well, well,” Dev said, leaning lazily against the gate. His sharp eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and wariness. “If it isn’t the Order’s golden girl. To what do I owe the honor?”
Vishakha stepped forward, her gaze unyielding. “I need your help.”
Dev raised an eyebrow. “Help? From me? That’s rich. The last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me.”
“You deserved it,” Vishakha said bluntly. “And you’re lucky I didn’t succeed. Now open the door.”
Dev let out a low chuckle but didn’t argue. He stepped aside, motioning for her to enter. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, Vishakha. People like us don’t usually live long enough to have visitors.”
“I’m not here for small talk,” she said, brushing past him.
The interior of the haveli was as dilapidated as its exterior, with crumbling walls and sparse furnishings. A makeshift workstation occupied one corner of the room, cluttered with old computers and gadgets that hummed faintly under their own power.
Vishakha walked to the center of the room, her arms crossed as she turned to face Dev.
“I’m heading for a Shadow Order facility in the Thar Desert,” she said. “I need to know what I’m walking into.”
Dev’s smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of unease. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly.”
He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re either braver than I thought, or dumber. Maybe both. That place is a fortress. Even Aryan doesn’t go there unless he’s planning something big.”
“Then it’s exactly where I need to be,” Vishakha said. “What do you know about it?”
Dev hesitated, his gaze flicking to the table where a dusty bottle of whiskey sat. He grabbed it, pouring himself a drink before finally answering.
“They call it the Aaraksha Facility,” he said, taking a swig. “It’s where the Order runs their most sensitive operations. Experimental tech, AI development, all the nasty stuff they don’t want anyone knowing about. The security’s airtight—layers of surveillance, automated defenses, and enough firepower to make a small army think twice.”
Vishakha’s expression didn’t waver. “How do I get in?”
Dev let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t. Not without help, anyway. Even someone like you would get torn apart before you reached the front door.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Vishakha said, stepping closer. “You know how the Order works. You can help me.”
Dev’s smirk returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve got some nerve, asking me to stick my neck out for you. After everything.”
“After everything,” Vishakha repeated, her tone steady. “We both know Aryan’s plans don’t stop with the Shadow Order. He wants total control, and he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way—including you.”
Dev’s jaw tightened, the weight of her words settling over him. He looked away, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he considered her proposition.
“Let’s say I help you,” he said finally. “What’s in it for me?”
“Survival,” Vishakha said simply. “And a chance to make things right.”
He snorted. “Right. Like anything we’ve done can be fixed.”
“It can,” Vishakha said, her voice firm. “But not if Aryan wins.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, Dev set his glass down with a sigh.
“You’re insane,” he said. “But fine. I’ll help you. Just don’t blame me if we both end up dead.”
Vishakha’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”
Dev shook his head, muttering under his breath as he moved to the workstation. “I’ll need a few hours to set up a plan. And don’t touch anything—half this stuff will explode if you look at it wrong.”
“I’ll wait,” Vishakha said, settling into a chair.
As Dev began pulling up schematics and tapping into old Shadow Order networks, Vishakha allowed herself a brief moment of stillness. The road ahead was dangerous, but she wasn’t alone anymore.
For now, that was enough.
The glow of Dev’s computer screens cast long shadows across the haveli’s crumbling walls, the faint hum of machinery a distant background noise. Vishakha sat still in the corner, her gaze fixed on a crack in the plaster.
Her mind drifted, tugged backward to a memory she had tried countless times to bury. But the name on the briefcase file—Amrita—had unearthed it, raw and unrelenting.
The Chhaya Institution sprawled across a remote valley in the Aravalli hills, its ancient stone walls blending seamlessly with the rugged terrain. On the surface, it resembled a fortress of learning, a haven of discipline and purpose. But to those within, it was a crucible—a place where shadows were forged into weapons.
Vishakha was 12 when she first arrived, her small frame dwarfed by the institution’s towering gates. She had been plucked from obscurity by the Shadow Order’s scouts, chosen for her sharp reflexes and a mind that seemed preternaturally tuned to survival.
Amrita had arrived the same day.
They were led into the training grounds, an expansive courtyard flanked by dormitories and combat arenas. The sound of wooden practice weapons clashing filled the air, punctuated by the sharp bark of instructors.
“Your life begins here,” a cold voice had said. Guru Aryan Suryavanshi, their overseer and the Institution’s architect, stood before them, his piercing gaze sweeping over the recruits. “You are no longer children. You are tools, and tools are forged in fire.”
Vishakha remembered the weight of his stare, the way it seemed to pierce through her skin and into her thoughts.
“Step forward,” Aryan ordered, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Vishakha hesitated, but Amrita moved instantly. Her twin’s stride was confident, her expression unreadable. Vishakha followed, the two standing side by side before Aryan.
“You will spar,” he said simply.
The recruits formed a circle around them, their faces a mixture of curiosity and dread. Vishakha glanced at Amrita, her twin’s face calm and unreadable.
“You will not hold back,” Aryan continued. “Hesitation is death. Weakness is death. Show me who you are.”
A wooden staff was thrust into Vishakha’s hands. Amrita already held hers, her grip steady and practiced.
“Begin.”
Amrita moved first.
Her staff whistled through the air, a blur of motion aimed directly at Vishakha’s ribs. Instinct took over, and Vishakha blocked the strike, the impact jolting her arms.
Amrita pressed the attack, her strikes precise and relentless. Vishakha barely kept up, her movements clumsy and reactive. Each blow forced her backward, the ground beneath her feet unsteady.
But then something shifted.
Vishakha’s focus sharpened, her instincts locking onto Amrita’s rhythm. She saw the subtle shift in her twin’s weight, the slight tension in her shoulders that signaled her next move.
Amrita swung again, but this time, Vishakha sidestepped, using her staff to redirect the strike. The momentum carried Amrita forward, and Vishakha struck, her staff catching Amrita’s side.
The crowd murmured, a ripple of surprise passing through the recruits.
Amrita recovered quickly, her expression calm but her movements more cautious. She studied Vishakha, her strikes now deliberate, probing for weaknesses.
They circled each other, the air between them charged with tension. Vishakha’s grip on her staff tightened, her breaths steady as she watched Amrita’s every move.
And then Amrita smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of her lips. It wasn’t a smile of malice or anger, but one of recognition.
In that moment, Vishakha understood. This wasn’t just a sparring match. It was a test, not only of skill but of will.
Amrita lunged, her staff coming down in a powerful arc. Vishakha met the strike head-on, the clash reverberating through the courtyard. The force of the impact sent both of them sprawling, their weapons skidding across the ground.
They lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, the circle of recruits silent around them.
Aryan stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. He looked down at the twins, his expression unreadable.
“Enough,” he said.
Vishakha and Amrita sat up, their gazes meeting briefly. There was no hostility in Amrita’s eyes, only a quiet acknowledgment.
Aryan’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before he turned to address the recruits. “These two will be the finest among you,” he said, his voice cold and certain. “Learn from them. Or fall behind.”
The memory faded, and Vishakha blinked, the present rushing back to meet her.
“Thinking about her?”
Dev’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. He stood by the workstation, his hands resting on the edge of the table.
Vishakha didn’t answer immediately. She leaned back in her chair, her expression guarded. “You know about Amrita?”
“Everyone in the Order knew about Amrita,” Dev said. “The two of you were legends. The twins who couldn’t be beaten.”
“Legends,” Vishakha said bitterly. “That’s one way to put it.”
Dev tilted his head, studying her. “What happened between you two?”
Vishakha’s jaw tightened. “She believed in the Order. I didn’t.”
“And now?”
“Now,” Vishakha said, standing, “she’s the Order’s deadliest weapon. And I have to stop her.”
Dev nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “The Thar facility won’t be easy. If Amrita’s involved, it’ll be even harder.”
“I know,” Vishakha said, her voice firm.
Dev’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned back to the workstation. “I’ll get us a way in,” he said. “But you’d better be ready for whatever’s waiting on the other side.”
“I always am,” Vishakha replied.
The train to Rajasthan was an iron serpent weaving its way through the chaotic sprawl of Mumbai. Vishakha chose the train over air or road travel—more crowded, easier to vanish into. She wore a plain kurta and jeans, her black-and-gold combat suit hidden in her bag. The bustling crowd, thick with noise and movement, was her shield.
Dev had given her coordinates for a rendezvous outside Jaipur, but something about the journey felt wrong. Her instincts, honed over years of survival, buzzed with unease. The Shadow Order never stayed far behind.
As she stepped onto the crowded platform at Mumbai Central Station, the sea of humanity surged around her. Vendors shouted over the din, and the air was heavy with the scent of sweat, spices, and diesel fumes.
Her gaze swept the area, searching for anomalies. The way a man lingered too long near a corner, the slight bulge under a woman’s shawl that could conceal a weapon, the sudden quiet in a group of laborers—all potential threats.
Vishakha moved quickly, blending into the crowd. The train wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes, but she wasn’t about to wait in the open. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, the faint weight of her katars a comforting reminder of her readiness.
As she reached the edge of the platform, her peripheral vision caught movement. A man—tall, lean, with sharp features and an air of purpose—was threading through the crowd toward her. His eyes locked on hers for the briefest second, and that was all she needed.
Shadow Order.
Vishakha shifted, angling her body away as she assessed her options. The platform’s exit was too far, the stairs too crowded. The train tracks were a last resort. She cursed under her breath.
Another figure appeared at the far end of the platform—a woman this time, with a sharp bob and an easy grace to her stride. She wasn’t looking directly at Vishakha, but her trajectory was deliberate.
A pincer movement. They were boxing her in.
Vishakha didn’t hesitate. She moved toward the train tracks, slipping between vendors and travelers with practiced ease. Behind her, the male operative called out in Hindi, his voice calm but commanding. “Ma’am, you dropped something.”
The polite facade was a trap—an attempt to get her to stop, to turn. She didn’t take the bait.
Instead, she quickened her pace, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag. The hum of an approaching train vibrated through the platform, its headlight cutting through the haze.
The man was gaining on her now, his strides purposeful. The woman mirrored his movements from the other side, her hand dipping under her scarf.
Weapons.
Vishakha ducked suddenly, slipping into a narrow alley that ran alongside the station. The noise of the platform faded, replaced by the muted clamor of the alley’s vendors and hawkers. She pressed herself against a wall, her fingers brushing the edge of her katar’s sheath.
The man appeared first, his silhouette stark against the sunlight spilling into the alley. He slowed, scanning the area, his hand resting on the hilt of a knife strapped to his belt.
“Vishakha,” he called, his voice smooth and mocking. “You’ve been running for a long time. Don’t you think it’s time to stop?”
She didn’t reply.
The woman entered the alley from the opposite end, cutting off her escape route. She held a compact pistol, her stance relaxed but ready.
“You’re out of options,” the woman said, her voice laced with disdain. “Hand over the briefcase, and maybe Aryan will let you live.”
Vishakha smirked faintly, stepping out of the shadows. Her katars gleamed as she unsheathed them, the curved blades catching the light.
“You should’ve brought more friends,” she said.
The man lunged first, his knife arcing toward her. Vishakha sidestepped smoothly, her katar deflecting the blade as she twisted, driving her elbow into his ribs. He staggered, but recovered quickly, his movements sharp and calculated.
The woman fired.
The crack of the gunshot echoed in the alley, but Vishakha was already moving. She ducked low, the bullet whizzing past her ear as she closed the distance. Her katar slashed upward, catching the woman’s wrist and forcing her to drop the pistol with a cry of pain.
The man attacked again, his knife slicing toward her back. Vishakha spun, her katars a blur as they intercepted the strike. She drove her knee into his stomach, following it with a swift strike to his shoulder that sent his knife clattering to the ground.
The woman grabbed a discarded crate, swinging it toward Vishakha’s head. Vishakha ducked, sweeping the woman’s legs out from under her and pinning her to the ground with one knee.
“You think Aryan will let me live?” Vishakha asked, her voice cold. “You should be worried about yourself.”
The woman struggled, her face twisting with rage. “You can’t escape the Shadow Order.”
“I already have,” Vishakha said, pressing her katar against the woman’s throat.
The man groaned, attempting to rise, but Vishakha kicked him back down with brutal efficiency. She retrieved the pistol, dismantling it in seconds before tossing the pieces aside.
“You tell Aryan,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “that I’m coming for him. And if you come after me again, I won’t be so forgiving.”
She released the woman, stepping back as the two operatives scrambled to their feet. Their expressions were a mix of fear and fury, but they didn’t dare attack again.
Vishakha turned and walked away, her katars still in hand. The train’s horn blared in the distance, signaling its arrival. She quickened her pace, slipping back onto the platform just as the train pulled in.
As she boarded, she didn’t look back. The Shadow Order had underestimated her, and she intended to keep it that way.
The journey to Rajasthan was only beginning, but she was ready.
The Rajasthan-bound train rumbled through the desert under the inky night sky, its rhythmic clatter a steady beat against the silence of the wilderness. Vishakha sat alone in a dimly lit compartment, the other passengers having drifted into uneasy slumber. The bag containing her katars rested at her feet, within arm’s reach.
On the seat beside her, a slim tablet hummed softly. Dev’s handiwork had unearthed an encrypted cache of files hidden within the data she’d recovered. She tapped the screen lightly, her sharp eyes scanning the scrolling lines of text and maps.
The Shadow Order’s influence was more extensive than she’d imagined. The data pointed to sleeper agents in critical infrastructure, whispers of AI programs designed for mass surveillance, and financial pipelines spanning the globe. But one file, marked with Aryan’s personal encryption, caught her attention.
She opened it, her breath catching as a map of Bharat Varsha unfolded on the screen. Key locations were marked in red—Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, Varanasi—and one that sent a chill down her spine: Thar Desert.
The Aaraksha Facility.
Dev had been right. The facility was the nexus of Aryan’s grand plan. According to the notes attached to the file, it housed the Sutradhar Project—an AI surveillance network capable of monitoring and influencing every aspect of life in Bharat Varsha.
Vishakha’s jaw tightened. The notes detailed the system’s capabilities: real-time data interception, predictive analytics for political and social manipulation, and an experimental program ominously referred to as “The Cleansing Protocol.”
The Cleansing Protocol was designed to eliminate threats deemed irredeemable by the AI, effectively granting Aryan’s Shadow Order the power to execute without trial or oversight.
A flicker of movement on the screen caught her attention. A list of names scrolled by—sleeper agents embedded in government, military, and corporate sectors. She paused on one name, her chest tightening: Amrita Singh.
Her twin’s name wasn’t just listed as an operative—it was highlighted as the lead coordinator for the Cleansing Protocol.
Vishakha’s stomach churned. Amrita wasn’t just enforcing Aryan’s will; she was helping build the machinery that would consolidate his control.
A sudden noise jolted her from her thoughts. The compartment door slid open slightly, revealing the silhouette of a man. Vishakha’s hand instinctively moved toward her katars as her eyes narrowed.
“Relax,” Dev’s voice said softly. “It’s me.”
She lowered her hand but didn’t relax. “What are you doing here?”
Dev stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He carried a small satchel and looked more exhausted than usual, but his smirk was intact. “You didn’t think I’d let you walk into that hellhole alone, did you?”
“I work alone,” Vishakha said, her tone sharp.
“And yet, here I am,” Dev replied, dropping into the seat across from her. “The least you could do is pretend to be grateful.”
She ignored the jab, turning the tablet toward him. “I found something. Aryan’s plans for the Aaraksha Facility—and Amrita’s role in it.”
Dev’s smirk faded as he leaned in, his eyes scanning the screen. “Damn,” he muttered. “This is worse than I thought. If this Cleansing Protocol goes online…”
“It won’t,” Vishakha interrupted, her voice cold and firm. “We’ll stop it before it gets that far.”
Dev looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You really think you can bring Amrita back from this?”
Vishakha didn’t answer immediately. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the tablet as memories of their time at the Chhaya Institution surfaced.
“She’s not coming back,” Vishakha said finally, her voice quiet but resolute. “Not after this. The Order has its claws too deep.”
Dev nodded slowly, his gaze flicking back to the screen. “Then we hit the facility hard. No subtlety, no infiltration. We go in, blow it sky-high, and get out before the dust settles.”
“You make it sound easy,” Vishakha said dryly.
“It’s not,” Dev admitted. “But we’ve got one advantage—they don’t know we’re coming. Yet.”
Vishakha’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
Dev hesitated. “The facility’s defenses are AI-driven. I can disable parts of it remotely, but there’s a backup server housed deep inside. If that server stays online, the system can reinitialize in minutes.”
“So we take out the server,” Vishakha said.
“Easier said than done,” Dev replied. “The server’s housed in a central vault, and it’s guarded by some of Aryan’s best. Getting to it will be suicide.”
“Good thing I don’t scare easy,” Vishakha said, standing and gathering her things.
Dev sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a stubborn one, I’ll give you that.”
She shot him a sharp look. “If you’re coming with me, keep up. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”
Dev smirked faintly. “Lead the way, Shadow Dancer.”
As the train neared its next stop, the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on them both. Vishakha knew the Aaraksha Facility would be her most dangerous mission yet—but it wasn’t just Aryan or the Shadow Order she had to face.
She had to confront Amrita.
And this time, she wasn’t sure if she would walk away unscathed.
The harsh sunlight of the Thar Desert reflected off the rust-colored sands, stretching endlessly into the horizon. Vishakha and Dev moved cautiously, their presence shielded by the rocky outcrops dotting the landscape. The motorcycle they had procured was left behind a few kilometers ago, hidden under a tarp. The rest of the journey would be on foot to avoid detection by the Shadow Order’s surveillance.
Dev was breathing harder than he probably wanted to admit, sweat trickling down his temple as he trudged behind Vishakha. She, on the other hand, moved with ease, her years of training making her strides purposeful and unyielding.
“You’re lucky I didn’t charge extra for desert conditions,” Dev muttered, wiping his brow.
Vishakha didn’t slow down or glance back. “If you can’t handle this, go back. I can do it without you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dev replied, waving a hand dismissively. “You know, you could try saying thank you once in a while. Builds morale, I hear.”
“I’m not here to boost morale,” she said curtly.
Dev sighed. “Noted.”
They reached the top of a small dune, where Vishakha crouched and gestured for Dev to do the same. Below them, the terrain opened up into a shallow basin, and at its center, partially camouflaged by the desert’s natural contours, was the Aaraksha Facility.
Even from this distance, it was an imposing sight. The facility sprawled like a metal-and-glass fortress, its architecture blending sleek modernity with an unnerving sense of secrecy. Tall watchtowers equipped with automated turrets flanked the perimeter, and the outer walls shimmered faintly, suggesting an energy barrier.
“Looks cozy,” Dev said, peering through the binoculars he had brought. “They’ve ramped up the defenses since I was last in the game. See those towers? Motion-sensitive. The moment you step within range, the turrets will light you up.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Vishakha replied, her gaze sharp as she assessed the facility’s layout.
Dev adjusted the binoculars, scanning the surrounding area. “There’s an auxiliary access point on the west side—an old maintenance hatch. It’s off-grid, but getting there means crossing open ground. If we’re spotted…”
“We won’t be,” Vishakha interrupted, her tone matter-of-fact.
Dev lowered the binoculars, giving her a skeptical look. “You always this confident, or is it part of the Shadow Order training?”
“It’s part of knowing what I’m capable of,” Vishakha said, standing. She slung her bag over her shoulder, the faint glint of her katars visible at the edges of the flap. “What else did you find about the network?”
Dev sighed, pulling a small tablet from his pack. “The data from the train confirmed what we already suspected. Aryan’s sleeper agents are embedded in critical sectors—government, corporate, military. They’ve been quietly redirecting resources to fund and protect the Sutradhar Project.”
He tapped the screen, pulling up a map. “But here’s the interesting part. The network isn’t centralized. Aryan’s using independent nodes to keep it operational. Even if we take out this facility, there are backup hubs in Bengaluru and Varanasi that can reinitialize the system.”
Vishakha frowned. “So this isn’t the endgame.”
“Not quite,” Dev admitted. “But it’s a start. The Aaraksha Facility is the heart of the operation. Take it down, and we cripple Aryan’s ability to expand the network. At least for a while.”
Vishakha nodded, her mind already calculating the next steps. “What about Amrita?”
Dev hesitated. “If she’s here—and I’m guessing she is—she won’t be in the open. Aryan knows you’ll come for him, and she’s his insurance policy. Expect her to show up when you’re least prepared.”
“I’m always prepared,” Vishakha said, though the knot in her stomach betrayed a flicker of doubt.
Dev gave her a sideways glance. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. She’s your sister. This isn’t just another mission for you.”
Vishakha’s jaw tightened. “She made her choice. And I’ve made mine.”
Dev didn’t push further. He returned his attention to the facility, adjusting the zoom on his binoculars. “We’ll need to move at sundown. Less patrols, better shadows. Until then, we should lay low.”
Vishakha nodded, her gaze fixed on the fortress below. The Aaraksha Facility loomed like a symbol of everything she’d fought to escape, its cold, impenetrable walls a stark reminder of the Shadow Order’s reach.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the desert, Vishakha tightened her grip on her bag.
Tonight, she would strike.
The desert sun bled into the horizon, its fiery hues swallowed by the encroaching shadows of night. The Thar Desert, once blinding and relentless, now felt like a different entity—cool, vast, and cloaked in an uneasy stillness. The Aaraksha Facility below stood illuminated by spotlights, its sleek towers cutting stark silhouettes against the dimming sky.
Vishakha adjusted her dark scarf, pulling it snug over her face to shield herself from the biting evening wind. Dev crouched beside her, his fingers dancing across the tablet that contained the facility’s schematics.
“Motion sensors, automated turrets, and roving drones,” Dev muttered, highlighting various points on the screen. “The west maintenance hatch is still the best entry point, but getting there without tripping the alarms will require some… creative thinking.”
“Creative thinking doesn’t disarm a turret,” Vishakha said, her tone clipped.
“No, but this might,” Dev replied, holding up a compact device. The rectangular gadget was covered in wires and flashing diodes, its design amateurish but functional. “EMP charge. It’ll fry the sensors in a fifty-foot radius. Not a permanent solution, but it’ll buy us enough time to get inside.”
Vishakha took the device, weighing it in her hand. “What about the drones?”
Dev tapped the tablet again, zooming in on the patrol patterns. “The drones operate in predictable loops, but Aryan’s programmers are smart. Each one has random intervals to keep intruders guessing. Your best bet is to use the Cloak intermittently—don’t burn through the suit’s charge all at once.”
Vishakha nodded, tucking the EMP charge into her bag. She glanced at the facility below, her sharp eyes tracing the paths of the spotlight beams. “We move as soon as the patrol shifts. How long do we have once we’re inside?”
“Depends on how quickly you disable the central server,” Dev said. “Once the EMP goes off, the facility’s security team will know something’s wrong. I’ll stay on overwatch and guide you through the blind spots.”
“And if Amrita’s there?”
Dev hesitated, his expression softening. “You already know the answer to that.”
Vishakha didn’t reply. Instead, she turned her focus back to the facility, her fingers tightening on the straps of her bag.
“She won’t stop,” Dev added quietly. “Not until one of you does.”
Vishakha’s voice was calm, almost cold. “Then I’ll make sure it’s her.”
Dev didn’t press further. He knew better than to argue with her resolve. Instead, he shifted his focus to his equipment, ensuring the encrypted communication line was functional.
“Once we’re inside, the central server is our priority,” Vishakha said, her voice low but commanding. “If we take it out, we cripple the Sutradhar Project. Without it, Aryan’s sleeper agents lose their coordination.”
“And if the server is a decoy?”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” she replied.
The faint hum of drones reached their ears, growing louder as the patrol loop passed closer to their position. Vishakha crouched lower, her body tense but poised.
Dev handed her a small earpiece. “Stay on comms. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” she said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
Dev chuckled softly. “Not a chance.”
As the drones began to drift away, Vishakha rose to her feet. Her movements were fluid, precise, and silent as she descended the dune. Dev followed at a careful distance, his focus divided between the tablet in his hands and the fortress ahead.
The sand beneath their boots shifted, muffling their steps as they approached the facility’s western perimeter. The maintenance hatch came into view, a steel door set flush against the wall. Its unassuming appearance belied the layers of security hidden beneath.
Vishakha motioned for Dev to stop as she pulled out the EMP charge. She placed it carefully at the base of the door, its diodes blinking in a steady rhythm.
“Stand back,” she murmured.
Dev moved behind a nearby boulder, his head ducked low. Vishakha activated the device, its hum rising to a crescendo before releasing a muffled burst of energy. The lights in their immediate vicinity flickered and died, and the faint whir of sensors went silent.
“Go,” Dev said, motioning toward the hatch.
Vishakha moved swiftly, her fingers working deftly to override the mechanical lock. The door creaked open, revealing a narrow, dimly lit corridor. She slipped inside, her katars drawn, her senses on high alert.
Dev followed, his tablet clutched tightly as he sealed the hatch behind them. “The server room is two levels down,” he whispered. “Keep to the shadows.”
“Always,” Vishakha replied.
The corridor stretched before them, its sterile walls and harsh lighting a stark contrast to the rugged terrain outside. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, growing louder as a patrol approached.
Vishakha pressed herself against the wall, her body blending seamlessly with the shadows cast by the dim lights. Dev flattened himself behind a large pipe, his breathing shallow.
The patrol passed without incident, their boots clanking against the metal floor. As their footsteps faded, Vishakha gestured for Dev to follow.
“We’re in,” she said softly into the earpiece. “Next phase starts now.”
The Aaraksha Facility was vast and labyrinthine, but Vishakha’s mind was singular in its focus. With each step, the weight of her mission pressed heavier on her shoulders. She wasn’t just dismantling Aryan’s plans—she was stepping into the heart of the Order she had once called home.
And somewhere within these walls, Amrita was waiting.