I was three years old when I first saw the fire.
Not in reality, but in a dream, a dream so vivid that it felt like I had lived through it, breathed in the suffocating smoke, and felt the heat sear my skin. I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, my small hands trembling as they clutched at the fabric of my blanket. But in that moment of terror, I knew exactly where I had to go.
"Papa..." My voice was small, quivering.
I ran barefoot through the dimly lit corridor, the cold floor sending chills up my spine. The flickering light from my father's study cast long shadows as I approached the only person who could make me feel safe.
He was sitting by the window, as he always did, a book resting on his lap, lost in thought. His face was partially illuminated by the glow of the lamp beside him, his expression serene yet distant. I never understood why he spent so much time staring into the night.
When he saw me, his sharp gaze softened. He set the book aside, reaching out for me. Without hesitation, I climbed onto his lap, burying my face into his chest. He smelled of old paper and sandalwood, a scent that I'd always associate with home.
"What happened, babu?" His voice was calm, soothing.
I sniffled, gripping his robe tightly. "Bad dream... fire... Papa, you weren't there."
For the first time, his expression faltered. It was brief—just a flicker of something in his eyes before he masked it with a reassuring smile.
"It was just a dream," he said, stroking my hair. "Dreams can't hurt you."
I wasn't convinced. "Will you ever leave me alone, Papa?"
He chuckled, shifting his posture. "Only a bad parent would leave their child."
I hesitated before whispering, "Then... is Mummy bad?"
I had never seen her. Only vague flashes of warmth, a soft touch, a blurry face I could never fully remember.
My father's smile wavered. "No, babu. Your mother loves you very much. She's just... out for work."
He said it as if he were convincing himself more than me. I was too young to understand what the pain in his eyes meant, but I felt it.
I had calmed down by then, but I still needed to tell him. "Papa, I saw lots of fire. And you... you weren't there."
His fingers tensed against my back. The silence stretched too long before he spoke again, this time with an unusual urgency.
"Babu, will you do something for Papa?"
I nodded eagerly.
He took a deep breath. "No matter what you see, no matter what dreams you have—don't tell anyone. Keep them to yourself. Promise me."
I didn't understand why, but his voice was different—serious, pleading. So, I nodded. "I promise."
Satisfied, he kissed my forehead, pulling me closer as he gently patted my head. The rhythmic motion lulled me into sleep, safe and sound in his arms.
That was the last time I ever felt safe.
Days later, my world burned.
I woke to the very fire I had seen, surrounding me in an inferno of collapsing walls and suffocating heat.
"Papa lied..." I choked through sobs, crawling toward the door, the wood searing my palms.
The fire swallowed everything. My home, my father, my belief that dreams were just dreams. I should have known better. I saw it happen before it did. And yet, I couldn't stop it.
I was alone.
They found me hours later, buried in the wreckage, a terrified child with nothing left. My grandfather took me in, bringing me to Uttarakhand, where the mountains swallowed my cries.
For years, I waited. First, with hope. Then, with denial. Then, with the numbing acceptance that my father was never coming back. And my mother, wherever she was, never would either.
I had friends, people around me, but I was never with them. There was always a wall, an invisible space between me and the rest of the world. My premonitions never stopped. I kept them to myself, just like my father told me to.
Until one day, I broke the rule.
There was a boy, not quite a friend, but not a stranger either. Over time, he became someone I saw often enough to acknowledge, someone whose presence felt familiar. And somehow, that was enough for him to leave an imprint on me. My premonitions were always tethered to those around me, surfacing only when my thoughts lingered on someone a little too long.
Then, one night, I saw him, standing at the edge of a road, a flash of headlights, the sickening crunch of metal against flesh. I jolted awake, heart pounding, the image seared into my mind. He was going to die.
I didn't want that to happen. Maybe I was foolish, maybe I was desperate to prove to myself that fate wasn't unshakable. That I wasn't powerless. I ran to his parents, breathless, pleading, begging them to listen.
They laughed. They mocked me.
"You're making up stories." "Stop scaring people." "Get lost, kid."
Days later, their son died exactly as I had seen.
No one believed me. No one ever would.
And so, I stopped telling anyone. Stopped trying. Stopped caring.
Because what was the point of knowing, if I could do nothing? What was the point of seeing, if no one would listen?
My grandfather was the only one who never dismissed me. But even he couldn't stop time. His body withered, weakened, and eventually, he too left me behind.
I was seven. Alone again. Too scared to be left in this cruel world again.
My father's words, 'only a bad parent leaves their child' echoed in my head. Maybe he was wrong. Or maybe he had never planned to leave. Maybe fate had taken him away against his will. But if that was true... then fate was my enemy.
And then at my grandfather's funeral, I met my cousin for the first time, Dhrithra. He was my age, yet he looked at me with disdain, as if I were filth.
My Tauji approached me, his presence towering. "Kriday, let us take care of you."
It was a statement, not a request.
I didn't trust him. But I had no choice. I had nothing left.
And so, I left my past behind, stepping into an uncertain future, carrying a burden no child should ever bear—
The weight of knowing.
I had always thought of my precognition as a curse, seeing the future and being powerless to change it. But lately, I have started testing its limits. If I couldn't alter the outcome, could I at least use it to my advantage?
Dhrithra, my cousin, was an arrogant brat, drunk on the power his father wielded. He despised me, looked down on me, and never missed a chance to remind me of my insignificance. I had done my best to stay out of his way, but fate had a cruel sense of humor.
A school trip had been organized, and Tauji had ordered Dhrithra to take me along. He resisted, protested, but ultimately, he had no choice.
"Why do I need to babysit that lowborn?" he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.
"He is your cousin, and I believe you can at least think of him in a better way," Tauji responded, calm and unwavering.
Dhrithra scoffed. "Fine. I'll take him, but if anything happens to him, I'm not responsible." He stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
I had been watching from a distance, hidden in the shadows. I knew he was planning something, some petty way to make the trip miserable for me. But I didn't care. Because this time, I had already seen what was going to happen.
And I was going to use it.
The morning of the trip, I woke up with a strange sense of anticipation. My dream—no, my vision, had played on a loop in my head all night. I knew what was coming. I knew the exact moment it would happen. More or less it will be test on how can I better use this ability for the best
Dhrithra and I left for school at noon. The bus ride was loud, filled with the chatter of excited students. I kept my distance, watching. My eyes occasionally flickers toward Dhrithra, who was basking in the attention of his followers. He was untouchable in his own mind, invincible.
The location chosen for our trip was a nature reserve on the outskirts of Faridabad, Surjakund, Also known as Death valley, a place of beauty, but also danger. Dense forests, uneven trails, and steep cliffs.
And that was where it was going to happen.
In my dream, I had seen it clearly.
Not Dhrithra.
Shishta.
She had been in my grade since the beginning, always present, yet always just out of reach. I never let myself think too much about her, but something about her presence lingered, like a whisper in the back of my mind. And now, my precognition had anchored itself to her.
The vision had come the night before, sharp and unrelenting.
I had seen her fall, just in the action of falling, not yet dead but the cliff from which she falls off is too steep.
Because I forced myself to wake up mid way. So, I wanted to test if the outcome can be decided purely based on how I plan out.
The trip is going to be a bumpy one for sure and also, it will decide my fate as well.
It wasn't perfect. But it was a start. I had seen her fall—just the motion, not the end. Not yet dead, but the cliff was too steep. But I forced myself awake before the vision could finish.If I could wake up before the end, maybe I could change it. Maybe fate wasn't absolute.
Tonight, I would find out.
"Hey Dhrithra, isn't he your cousin?"
Vishesh, ever the snake, smirked as he pointed at me. His voice was low enough to seem innocent but loud enough to sting.
Dhrithra's eyes flickered toward me for a fraction of a second before his expression hardened. "I'm not related to him. He's just a freeloader my father pitied. And could you shut up? Don't make it obvious."
I could hear the pity in his voice, deeper than the words themselves. He wanted to convince himself more than he wanted to convince Vishesh.
Vishesh chuckled, nudging another boy as if sharing a private joke. My fists clenched, but I stayed silent. I knew what came next, I had already foreseen it.
The group huddled closer, whispering among themselves, their scheming just beyond my hearing range. But it didn't matter. I had already listened to this conversation before.
We arrived at the camp just as the last light of the sun faded. The teachers, busy organizing sleeping arrangements, weren't paying close attention.
Neither was I.
I drifted away from the group, letting my steps take me beyond the immediate campgrounds. It wasn't aimless wandering, I needed to confirm something. The forest was dense, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. I let the solitude settle over me, knowing I couldn't stay out for long.
By the time I returned, the students were lining up for a final headcount.
Perfect timing.
No one had noticed my absence.
But something was off.
I caught the sharp gaze of Mr. Dhyan, the PT teacher, sweeping over the students. His brows furrowed. A moment later, he turned to Miss Samhelna. "The count is off."
The realization rippled through the group like a cold wind. Then, right on cue, one of Dhrithra's friends sprinted toward the teachers, breathless and panicked.
"Dhrithra is missing!"
Miss Samhelna paled. Mr. Dhyan didn't waste a second—he grabbed a flashlight and strode toward the forest.
The murmurs turned into small waves of concern. Some students suggested looking for him, but none were willing to act.
None except Shishta.
"We should go after him."
Miss Samhelna shook her head firmly. "Mr. Dhyan will find him. You're children. This is dangerous."
Shishta didn't budge. "He is our classmate. We can't just sit here and do nothing."
Miss Samhelna placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression soft but unwavering. "You have a kind heart, Shishta. But this isn't your responsibility."
The other students hesitated but ultimately backed down.
Not Shishta.
Her hands curled into fists, her jaw clenched in frustration. The teacher, satisfied she had quelled the rebellion, turned away.
That was her mistake. Because the moment Miss Samhelna looked elsewhere—Shishta ran.
I moved before I could think, chasing after her.
"Shishta! Stop!"
She didn't.
"Let me guide you!" I called out, my voice cutting through the night.
For the first time, she looked back at me, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "And how do you know where he is? Are you some kind of fortune teller?"
"Just a hunch." My voice was steady, but my mind spun with half-truths. "I saw him heading toward the denser part of the forest. He probably got lost there."
A lie.
The truth? I had followed Dhrithra earlier, just far enough to understand what he and his group were up to. I had listened, hidden in the shadows. I had even played a small trick—just a simple scarecrow illusion to split them apart. It worked too well.
Now, I had to retrieve what I had scattered.
Shishta hesitated. Then, she nodded. "Show me the way."
I led, my pace measured, my mind racing.
I had prepared for this. Before leaving camp, I had taken a moment to approach Miss Samhelna. "Do you have the sports gear with you?" I had asked.
She had given me a curious look but nodded, handing me the compact, collapsible safety device. "Why do you need this?"
"Just a precaution," I answered smoothly.
Now, that precaution was about to be tested.
We neared the cliff.
I kicked a stone backward intentionally but ensuring that it feels accidental
It banged right at the target I was aiming at, Shishta's ankle. It struck.
She groaned a bit and eventually lost balance. The pathway was narrow so she couldn't regain her balance.
Off, she fell.
The moment unfolded exactly as I had foreseen. But this time, it is fair to say it moved according to my will.
I yanked the sports gear from my pocket and hurled it toward her. She hesitated, and must have been wondering 'how?' but soon the realisation of time ticking got her and She reached for it, fingers brushing against the material. A sharp click and she pushed it near her neck.
The device expanded and warped around her neck and head extending till her elbows and back
Her descent slowed.
She landed fifteen feet below, battered but alive.I scrambled down after her, my breath ragged. "Shishta!"
She was on her side, hands and ankles scraped, but her eyes were still burning. She met my gaze and then—
She shoved my hand away.
"I'm fine. Go get Dhrithra."
"But—"
"Go! Dhrithra Needs you more.."
I realised the primary purpose of all. I need to bring that Idiot to my side so he don't make my life any more difficult than it already is.
The night air burned my lungs as I sprinted through the dense forest, my legs trembling from exhaustion. My mind reeled from what had just happened, and counter measures I took. Is it ethical? But She couldn't have been alive if I didn't attempt that.
I had changed the future.
Not entirely. Not enough to erase the fall. But enough to shift its course, enough to ensure she survived.
Which meant fate wasn't absolute. It could be bent. Twisted. Redirected.
And if I could do it once, maybe just maybe, I could do it again.
But first, I had to find Dhrithra.
My breath came in ragged gasps as I pushed through the undergrowth, guided by the knowledge I shouldn't have had.
And then I saw him.
A lone figure curled at the foot of a massive tree, his frame shuddering with quiet sobs. The boy who had always carried arrogance like a shield, now stripped of it, reduced to nothing but raw fear and loneliness.
"Dhrithra!"
His head snapped up at the sound of my voice.
For a fleeting second, his teary eyes widened in disbelief. Then, before I could brace myself, he lunged at me, his arms locking around me with desperate force.
His grip was crushing, clinging as if I were the last solid thing in a world that had just collapsed beneath him.
"I—I'm glad you're here."
His voice cracked between heavy, uneven sobs. His breath trembled against my shoulder, and for the first time, there was no arrogance, no sneer—just a boy who had been utterly, terrifyingly alone.
No one had ever seen Dhrithra like this. No one had ever held him like this.
So I did.
I held him until the shaking subsided, until the quiet hiccups of his sobs faded into deep, steady breaths. Until his grip loosened, though he never truly let go.
And in that silence, something shifted.
Something neither of us spoke about.
But we both felt it. By the time we made our way back, Shishta was waiting.
She had somehow managed to sit up despite the bruises, her body battle-worn but her spirit unyielding. The moment she saw us, she exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if to say, Finally.
She was strong in ways I couldn't yet comprehend.
A warrior, through and through.
Dhrithra and I helped her to her feet, and together, the three of us trudged back toward the camp, the weight of the night still clinging to our skin.
The moment we crossed the threshold, the teachers pounced.
Miss Samhelna's face was a storm of worry and fury, while Mr. Dhyan's usually stern expression darkened further. The scolding rained down on us like relentless blows—words of disappointment, of recklessness, of how we could have gotten ourselves killed.
Dhrithra stood beside me, silent, shoulders hunched. Shishta, even in her wounded state, took it head-on, unflinching.
In the end, our punishment was set.
Dhrithra and I were confined to our tents for an entire day.
A small price to pay for what we had gained.
That night, as we sat inside the dimly lit tent, the air thick with the weight of everything that had happened, Dhrithra spoke.
"You came for me."
It wasn't a question. Just a realization. I didn't respond immediately. I wasn't sure what to say.
Then, in the quiet, he muttered, "Thank you."
I turned toward him, half-expecting some kind of smirk, some attempt to rebuild his usual armor. But he only looked at me with something softer, something genuine.
Something I had never seen before.
From that moment on, Dhrithra wasn't just a name attached to a past I had tried to ignore.
He was a friend.
And for the first time since my father, I felt like I had someone I could rely on.
Back to Present ---Another Timeline maybe
The laughter of my classmates echoed around me, the crisp mountain air carrying their voices as we stood by the serene expanse of Tso Moriri. The lake shimmered under the early morning sun, a picture of perfect tranquility. It felt real. Too real. But I knew better.
This wasn't my reality.
I had traversed into another timeline.
The realization hit like a surge of static in my mind, this was my third awakening.
The first was premonition, the ability to foresee definitive events.
The second was precognition, the ability to foresee anything.
And now, the third drifting, traversing through parallel worlds and influencing teh consciousness of current me.
I had woken up here, in this reality where things had shifted just enough to be different.
Our class stood assembled in front of our stay, a modest guest house with Tibetan-style architecture. The crisp air suddenly grew heavy as our professor, his face unusually grim, cleared his throat to make an announcement.
"The jeep trailing us was hijacked last night. Head Constable Pranay has been captured. His whereabouts are unknown."
The news struck like a thunderclap.
Chirjivan, usually one of the quieter students, let out a strangled sob. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge of his jacket. Pranay was his brother.
He had vanished into uncertainty.
A knot tightened in my stomach. The definitive event in this timeline wasn't about me, Shishta, or even Dhrithra. It was Pranay's capture.
I had tried to prevent it. I had tried to rewrite the script.
And yet, here we were.
My ability wasn't omnipotent. I could alter variables, but the outcome always demanded balance. If I had saved more people in my original timeline, something had to give.
The thought chilled me.
How many lives had I truly changed? How many had I saved? And at what cost?
Unlike the previous two times, I was aware. Conscious. I wasn't just a passive observer, I could think, act, influence.
But steering an entire reality? That was uncharted territory.
I needed to get back.
And the only person who could help me figure out what had happened in the original timeline was Dhrithra.
Wherever he was.
Original Timeline
Dhrithra's senses returned in fragments.
A dull throbbing pulsed at the back of his skull, and his body felt like it had been wrung dry. The air around him was thick with antiseptics, sweat, and something faintly metallic—blood?
He forced his eyes open.
The canvas roof above him swayed slightly, casting restless shadows against the dim light. He could hear murmurs beyond the tent walls, hushed and urgent. The rustling of boots against gravel. The distant crackle of a walkie-talkie.
He tried to push himself up.
Pain flared through his limbs, sharp and unforgiving. Before he could move further, a voice sliced through the silence.
"Don't move yet."
The words sent an involuntary chill down his spine.
His gaze snapped sideways to meet the man who had spoken.
A towering figure stood before him, exuding raw authority. His white shirt, crisp and tucked neatly into khaki pants, barely creased. The boots—polished to a mirror shine—were planted firmly, as if he owned the ground beneath them. A thick mustache framed his hardened expression, and behind his black shades, Dhrithra could sense an unwavering, calculating gaze.
This wasn't just some officer.
This man was someone high up. Someone dangerous.
Dhrithra swallowed, his throat dry.
His mind struggled to catch up, piecing together what had happened.
Dhrithra's breathing quickened. What happened? How did he end up here?
His eyes darted back to the man, who had yet to move, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Who are you?" Dhrithra asked, his voice hoarse.
The man smirked. Slowly, he lowered his shades just enough for Dhrithra to see the sharp glint in his eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
"Let's talk about how you got here, kid."
Dhrithra's pulse hammered in his ears. His breath was uneven, his body still reeling from exhaustion, but in that moment, one thing was crystal clear—
Whatever had happened to him, whatever had changed...
It had put him in the crosshairs of something far bigger than he could have ever imagined. And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, the officer added—
"You definitely did wake up from the dead."