Chapter Seven : Threads of the Mind

? The Boy Who Fought Too Long

They took turns watching him.

By day, Suraj and Riya would sit outside the shed, sharpening weapons they barely knew how to use, cooking whatever they could find, never going far.

By night, Anya would sit beside Arjun — who still hadn't spoken a word since that evening by the fire. His body was healing. But his mind?

It was somewhere else.

Sometimes he'd mutter things in his sleep. Names they'd never heard. Creatures that didn’t exist. At least, not here.

And almost every night, he screamed.

Not loudly. But with a rawness that made them all sit up, hearts pounding, as if the mountain itself were crying through him.

One night, after a particularly long scream, he opened his eyes — confused, breathless — and asked one thing:

> “Did I make it back?”




---

? Cracks in the Leather

While the others tried to keep the hut livable, Anya spent her hours with the books — the legacy and the diary.

The Legacy Book still wouldn't open. It sat there like a dead thing. Rough leather. No pages. No weight.

But the diary was her map — Arjun’s entries, messy, sometimes barely readable, but full of survival.

And frustration.

> “Tried again. Nothing works. I don't understand how any of this connects.”



> “Maybe it needs belief? Maybe I’m not meant to do this. I can fight. But that’s all.”



That sentence stuck with her.

Anya, curious and sharp, thought maybe it did need belief. But it also needed understanding — patterns, language, rhythm. Things Arjun never cared about.

So, one day, she tried. She placed her hand on the Legacy Book, closed her eyes… and whispered what she thought was an activation word.

Nothing.

Except for a flicker of warmth. A brief pulse, like a heartbeat. But only once.

The others didn’t notice.

Anya didn’t tell them.

> “It’s not mine,” she whispered. “But I think I know who it belongs to.”




---

? The Mountain Doesn’t Let Go

After two weeks, Riya and Suraj got restless.

They wanted to try going down again. Arjun hadn’t spoken a full sentence, but their supplies were running low, and they needed to plan.

They mapped the forest as best they could. Left breadcrumbs. Dug notches in trees.

They walked down. For hours.

But after what felt like a full day’s hike, they circled back — to the hut. To the fire. To the shed.

Suraj punched a tree. Riya stared in shock.

> “We didn’t turn,” she kept saying. “We never turned. It bent us.”



The mountain wasn’t letting them go either.


---

? A Month Later

On the 31st day, Arjun woke up just before dawn — fully.

No fever in his eyes. No shaking hands. No screaming.

Just stillness.

And silence.

Anya sat beside him, half asleep, wrapped in a blanket.

“Anya,” he said, voice low.

She jerked awake. Blinked.

“...You’re here.”

He nodded. Then whispered, “I thought you were a hallucination.”


---

? The Truth

That morning, they all sat around the fire again — like the first time, only different.

Arjun had changed.

So had they.

He explained it all — the three years, the fear, the feeling of being watched every night, the whispers in the trees, the constant battle to stay human.

Then came the harder part.

“My parents,” he said. “They weren’t from the city. They were born here. And I… I’m not just their son.”

He looked down. “I’m their firstborn.”

Anya looked at him sharply. But said nothing.

Then, slowly, he reached behind him and took out the Legacy Book. Still cracked. Still sealed.

“I think it’s time you read it,” he said.

Anya stared. “Arjun… I’m not—”

“I couldn’t open it,” he said. “You almost did. That night.”

Anya froze. “You knew?”

He smiled, weakly. “The mountain tells me things sometimes.”

Then he placed the book in her hands.


---

? A Book That Breathed

The second her fingers touched it — the book pulsed.

A heartbeat.

The cover softened. Then split open. Not like pages turning — more like unfolding.

The shed trembled.

The air thickened.

Suddenly, what looked like a 50-page diary expanded into a tome almost as tall as her torso. It fell into her lap with a thud so loud even Kartik jumped.

It was heavy — physically and magically.

10,000 pages, maybe more.

Each one filled with diagrams, ancient runes, shifting patterns that changed when you blinked.

Anya’s fingers trembled.

Even Arjun stared, wide-eyed.

“I’ve never seen this part before,” he said. “Not once. Not even when I touched it.”

Anya swallowed.

> “Because you weren’t ready.”

Chapter end