It had been three days since the meeting with Zeesham was scheduled for today. Akash had now shifted entirely to the lab, living in the room just adjacent to it to carry out research whenever he wanted. His once meticulous bedroom was now a chaotic mix of research papers, chemical vials, and electronic gadgets. The hum of machines and the soft glow of computer screens replaced the natural light, casting an eerie, almost otherworldly, atmosphere. Akash immersed himself in his work, the weight of urgency pressing down on him like a physical force.

Anirudh and Ishan continued their training as usual, each day a relentless pursuit of strength and skill. The training ground had become their battlefield, each session a war against their own limits and doubts.

On this particular day, Anirudh's training focused on general motor flexibility and muscle conditioning. The air in the training room was thick with the smell of sweat and the echo of his exertions. Such sessions rarely required Lector's presence, leaving Anirudh to push his limits in solitude. The absence of Lector's critical eye was both a relief and a burden, forcing Anirudh to rely entirely on his inner drive, resisting all the pain in every corner of his body with the help of his self-promise to revenge the demise of his dear friend.

Meanwhile, Ishan found himself in an eerily quiet training room, a stark contrast to the usual clamour of soldiers. The silence was unsettling. As he entered, he was greeted by Vanya, who invited him to the table with a graceful wave. The tantalizing smell of pancakes wafted through the air, teasing his senses. Although the smell of pancakes was dwelling below his nose but he took each step forward with a sharp glaze for any surprise attacks. He approached cautiously, eyes scanning for any signs of a trap, but there was nothing. No sudden movements, no hidden threats. He was on guard, leaving no blind spots but to his surprise, nothing happened, no one popped up. He reached the table and pulled out the empty chair opposite Vanya, his movements deliberate and guarded.

Vanya leaned in to pour tea for him, her smile as sweet as the aroma of the pancakes. She was as beautiful as always, her presence almost otherworldly. Ishan remained puzzled, his guard still up. "I don't tend to miss this tea, but why today?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

Vanya met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a sense of tenderness that seemed to seep into his very soul. "You deserve a gift, Ishan," she said softly. Rising from her chair, she moved behind him, her movements fluid and graceful. She bent down, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and neck. "You have been working very hard, dear," she murmured, her voice like a soothing balm.

Ishan tried to turn his head to see her, but Vanya's fingertips lightly held him in place. He felt a shift within him, a stirring of emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel. His focus had always been singular—to get stronger and save his brother. He always perceived Vanya as only his trainer. But now, something about Vanya's touch, her presence, made him pause. Her hands were delicate, their touch as gentle as the morning dew on flower petals. She felt so beautiful, so finely refined and elegantly crafted, like a porcelain figurine shaped by the hands of a master artisan.

How could someone be so perfect, so effortlessly enchanting? His heart beat faster, a blush creeping up his neck. He felt an inexplicable draw towards her, his resolve slowly crumbling. He noticed the curve of her lips, the way her eyes sparkled with an intensity that seemed to promise both comfort and danger.

His face softened, eyes widened, losing some of their guarded edge. He allowed himself to savour the moment, to bask in the attention she bestowed upon him. Her beauty was almost overwhelming, a siren call that threatened to drown his senses. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of being cared for, of being important.

Each touch, each glance, deepened Ishan's adoration for her. She spoke softly, her words wrapping around him like a silken web. "You deserve to be taken care of," she whispered, her lips close to his ear. "You deserve to be cherished."

During this time, Avyan was standing under the shade, while rain poured heavily in the garden in front of him. The drops fell with a relentless rhythm, creating a symphony that filled the air with a sense of melancholy. He watched as the rain turned the garden into a lush, vibrant paradise, yet felt none of its beauty.

Suddenly, he felt a breeze behind him, carrying an unworldly presence. "Why not step in? Rain in these peaks makes it no less than a paradise," Zeesham said in his heavy but calm and friendly voice.

Avyan, still unbothered, stared at the clouds, his face a mask of disdain. "I hate the rain," he muttered, his voice tinged with a quiet bitterness.

Zeesham shook his head, replying casually, "How could you hate the rain?" After being ignored, Zeesham moved to Avyan's side, his presence a steadying force. "Your training isn't going all well, it seems."

Avyan turned abruptly, his face contorted with anger, his body trembling with rage. "Well? What do you mean by well? It hasn't even started!" He stepped forward, now directly standing very close to Zeesham and looking down at him. "How am I supposed to do anything if I cannot even climb up a damn pole? And what kind of training ground is that? It makes no sense!" His anger clouded his thoughts, stripping away his usual cool demeanour.

Zeesham stood there calmly, letting Avyan vent his frustrations. His steady gaze never wavered, absorbing the torrent of emotions pouring from the young man in front of him. Avyan's voice rose, filled with a mix of desperation and fury. "I have been watching my friends put their lives on the line each day to achieve a shared goal, facing near-death experiences every day. I, on the other hand, am stuck doing push-ups and crunches. I think Pulkit doesn't understand the lives on the line, the risks that we are under. He is incompetent."

Avyan's words came out in a rush, his breath quickening with each sentence. "I don't know how strong he is, but considering your urgency, I definitely know that he will not be able to handle Raezi alone. In fact, all the Marshalls collectively can't. I realized this the day we reached here. If you could, you would have handled this situation by now with the help of the all-mighty Grand Marshalls, but no! You guys did not just call us because our loved ones were involved; you need our help. But why us? There sure are more experienced soldiers on your side who could have replaced us in the training. The matter is something else. You are hiding something from us!"

Zeesham maintained a calm smile on his face, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding and patience. Avyan's frustration boiled over, his voice breaking with the intensity of his emotions. "Tell me!!" he shouted, his fists clenched at his sides, his entire body trembling.

The rain continued to fall around them, each drop a testament to the storm raging within Avyan. Zeesham remained still, his presence a calm island amidst the chaos, waiting for the tempest to pass. The sound of the rain created a heavy, oppressive atmosphere, accentuating the tension between the two men. Zeesham took a step back, his eyes never leaving Avyan's.

"Shared motive, you say? I don't believe it," Zeesham began, his voice steady and penetrating. "Everyone has a different reason to be better. Anirudh aims to become strong enough to kill Lector. Ishan wants to save his brother, and Akash, his sister. But not you."

Avyan's eyes widened, a flicker of shock breaking through his anger. He hadn't expected this. Zeesham's words cut through him like a blade, revealing truths he had buried deep within himself. "You have a resentment in your heart, child. You cannot decide. Although your friend's death has been hard on you, you have different ways. You are not the person who seeks revenge."

Zeesham took a step closer, his blue eyes locking onto Avyan's with an intensity that was both disarming and compelling. "But the deepest turmoil within your heart is," he paused, watching as Avyan turned his head away in resentment, "you are not even sure if you want to save your grandpa."

Avyan's heart sank. The truth of Zeesham's words hit him like a punch to the gut. Sweat dripped from his face despite the freezing surroundings, mingling with the rain. His breath caught in his throat, and his vision blurred momentarily as emotions he had long suppressed surged to the surface. The world around him seemed to slow, the relentless patter of the rain now a distant echo.

He grew silent, his mind racing as he tried to process Zeesham's words. His motivations, once clear and unwavering, now seemed muddled and confused. He remembered his grandfather's stern yet kind face. As he stood there, drenched and trembling, Avyan's facade of strength and certainty crumbled. He felt exposed, vulnerable. Zeesham's insight had pierced through the armour he had so carefully constructed, leaving him defenceless.

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Zeesham watched him with a knowing look, his expression softening. "It's alright to feel conflicted, Avyan. It's human," he said gently. "But you must confront these feelings, understand them. Only then can you find true strength and purpose."

Avyan swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the rain. He felt a tear mingle with the rain on his cheek, a small symbol of the internal struggle raging within him. He had always prided himself on his resolve, his clarity of purpose. But now, faced with the stark truth of his own heart, he realized just how fragile that resolve had been.

Old memories started to resurface again, memories that had been buried under ignorance long ago. Avyan lived in the rural areas where life was simple and streamlined. As a child, he was little and tender, his eyes cute and glowing with innocence. He lived in a loving family with his parents and grandfather. He remembered his mother's loving and gentle hands that used to feed him and nourish him, her touch always filled with warmth and love. His father, a mixture of strictness and kindness, balanced discipline with affection. They both loved Avyan deeply and unconditionally.

His grandfather was a towering figure of warmth and joy in Avyan's life. Avyan cherished their long walks along the river in the mornings, where they would often sneak hidden snacks and sweets, giggling behind Avyan's mother's back. His grandfather's laughter was infectious, his stories enchanting. He would shield Avyan from his father's scolding, his presence a constant source of comfort and laughter. He adored his son and daughter-in-law, often cracking jokes to keep the household mood light and cheerful. An old golden conversation he had now resurfaced in his mind again-

Avyan and his grandfather walked side by side along the riverbank, the early morning sun casting a golden glow over the landscape. The river sparkled in the soft light, its gentle murmur a soothing backdrop to their steps. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the earthy scent of the wet ground and the faint fragrance of wildflowers. Avyan, with his small hand clasped in his grandfather's, felt a deep sense of peace and security.

They reached their favourite spot, a large, flat rock by the water's edge, and sat down. Avyan's grandfather pulled out a small cloth bundle from his pocket, revealing a few hidden sweets. With a wink and a smile, he handed one to Avyan, who accepted it eagerly, his eyes lighting up with joy.

As they savoured their treats, Avyan's grandfather gazed out at the river, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he turned to Avyan, his eyes twinkling with wisdom and warmth.

"Avyan," he began, his voice gentle yet firm, "there's something important I want to tell you. It's a lesson that has guided me through many of life's challenges."

Avyan looked up at his grandfather, his curiosity piqued. "What is it, Grandpa?" he asked, his voice full of innocent eagerness.

His grandfather smiled and placed a hand on Avyan's shoulder. "Life," he said slowly, "is like this river. It flows continuously, sometimes calm and gentle, other times rough and turbulent. No matter what, it keeps moving forward. And just like the river, we must learn to keep moving forward, no matter what obstacles we encounter."

Avyan listened intently, his eyes wide with understanding. "But what if the river gets blocked by a big rock, Grandpa? What does it do then?"

His grandfather chuckled softly. "That's a very good question, Avyan. When the river encounters a big rock, it doesn't stop. It finds a way around it, over it, or even under it. The river is persistent and adaptable. We must be the same in life. When we face obstacles, we shouldn't let them stop us. Instead, we should find a way to overcome them, to adapt and keep moving forward."

Avyan nodded slowly, processing his grandfather's words. "So, if something bad happens, I shouldn't give up. I should keep trying to find a way, just like the river?"

"Exactly," his grandfather replied, his eyes shining with pride. "And remember, Avyan, sometimes the most difficult challenges teach us the most valuable lessons. They make us stronger and wiser. So, don't be afraid of obstacles. Embrace them as opportunities to grow."

Avyan felt a deep sense of inspiration and determination welling up inside him. He looked out at the river, seeing it in a new light, as a symbol of resilience and perseverance. "I understand, Grandpa. I'll remember to be like the river, no matter what happens."

His grandfather smiled, his heart swelling with affection for his grandson. "That's my boy," he said, giving Avyan's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're going to do great things, Avyan. Just keep moving forward, one step at a time."

As they sat together by the river, the bond between them grew even stronger, rooted in the shared wisdom of generations. The river flowed on, a timeless reminder of the lessons of life, and Avyan felt ready to face whatever the future held, knowing he had the strength and resilience of the river within him.

However, due to his tender age, Avyan did not notice the inner conflict developing in the family. His grandfather had left the town for a couple of months for an urgent meeting at the central meteorological department. During this time, his father became entangled in a bad circle of friends. To fit in, he started drinking liquor and smoking cigarettes. He often came home drunk after spending time with his friends, unable to handle his liquor well. This resulted in frequent fights between his parents. What started as heated arguments soon turned physical, shattering the once loving and caring family.

Avyan's idyllic childhood memories now contrasted sharply with the turmoil that followed. He could recall the nights his mother would wait by the window, anxiety etched on her face, as she waited for his father to return. The smell of alcohol would permeate the house, mingling with the scent of dinner left untouched on the table. His father's slurred words and unsteady gait were stark reminders of the man he was becoming.

The fights grew more intense over time. Avyan remembered cowering in his room, the walls unable to muffle the sound of his parents' shouting. His mother's voice, usually so gentle, now filled with anger and hurt. His father's responses were equally volatile, fueled by the toxic influence of alcohol. The tension in the house was palpable, a constant, oppressive presence that even a child as young as Avyan could feel.

One night, the memory etched into his mind with painful clarity, Avyan was at his neighbour's house, playing with one of his friends, oblivious to the storm brewing at home. His mother was cooking dinner when she heard the doorbell. Two men entered the house, carrying his father, drunk once again. They left him at the door, and his mother, enraged, started shouting at her husband. She still held a knife in her hand, a symbol of her ongoing struggle to keep the family together. She wanted him to abandon his bad habits and return to being the loving husband, father, and son he once was. However, in his tipsy state, his father started to push her aside.

The situation escalated quickly. During the struggle, the knife inadvertently pierced his mother in a vital organ. She cried out in pain, but no one noticed in the chaos. His father, too intoxicated to comprehend the severity of the situation, lost consciousness. When he woke up a couple of hours later, he was soaked in blood.

His eyes fell on the lifeless body of his beloved wife, the knife still embedded in her stomach. He let out a heart-wrenching cry, the realization of what had happened hitting him like a tidal wave. He picked up her lifeless body, hugging her tightly, shouting her name with tears streaming down his face, his throat choked with grief. The unbearable pain of his actions and the loss of his wife overwhelmed him.

Unable to bear the weight of his guilt and sorrow, he stumbled up to the rooftop. The night was dark, the rain pouring down as if the heavens themselves were weeping. With a final, anguished scream, he jumped, ending his life.

Avyan sat on the edge of the shade, rain pouring all over him, the memories of his grandfather flooding back with painful clarity. He recalled the day his grandfather had rushed home upon hearing the tragic news, his face etched with anguish as he knelt by the freshly dug graves of Avyan's parents. The image of his once-strong grandfather breaking down in tears haunted Avyan's mind—it was the last time he saw those tears.

After that day, everything changed. Avyan, too young to grasp the depth of the loss and grief, witnessed his grandfather's transformation. The gentle touch that had comforted him during their walks by the river turned rough and harsh. His grandfather's once patient demeanor gave way to agitation and frustration. Where there had been warmth, now there were scoldings and harsh words. Avyan, bewildered and scared, bore the brunt of his grandfather's pain. Every mistake, no matter how small, was met with scoldings and sometimes even beatings.

His grandfather's absences grew longer and more frequent, leaving Avyan in the care of his nanny without explanation. The house, once filled with laughter and love, now echoed with tension and fear. Avyan sought refuge in his studies, burying himself in books to escape the harsh reality at home. His focus shifted entirely to academic achievement, a desperate bid to leave his grandfather's house as soon as he could.

The trauma of those years took its toll on Avyan. To protect himself, his young mind buried the memories of the loving family moments deep within a void, leaving only the scars of his grandfather's harsh discipline. He grew distant, emotionally guarded, unable to reconcile the loving grandfather of his early childhood with the harsh disciplinarian he had become.

Avyan's memories flooded back in vivid detail, each scene a knife twisting in his heart. He saw his mother's gentle smile, his father's stern yet kind eyes, his grandfather's infectious laughter. The simplicity and joy of those early days had been irrevocably shattered, leaving him with a deep-seated resentment and a gnawing sense of loss. The rain continued to fall around him, each drop a reminder of the storm that had torn his family apart. He stood up from the ground, now fully wet under the rain, he looked back but Zeesham was not there. A note was left on the ground that read, "Pulkit will find strength in you when you find a motive within you.

PS- gtg. You'll find all the answers soon"

The challenges ahead loomed large, but Avyan faced them with a newfound courage. He would no longer run from his emotions or hide from his memories. Instead, he would harness the pain of his past as fuel for his journey forward. Avyan made a silent promise to himself. He would forge his own path, guided by the lessons of resilience and strength learned from his grandfather. The river, ever-flowing and unwavering, whispered a promise of renewal and transformation. The journey ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to embrace it, knowing that each step forward would lead him closer to healing and inner peace.

He now had a clear motive in his mind, to save his grandpa and kill Raezi.