The cotton candy dissolves on my tongue as Baba’s laughter cuts through the festival noise. Not his usual tired chuckle after long nights sweeping Mumbai’s streets—real laughter, bright as the mela lights above us. His teeth flash in the neon glow, and for once, the permanent exhaustion has lifted from his face.
[Subject’s Mental State Analysis]
Current Emotions: Joy (78%), Hope (92%), Underlying Anxiety (23%)
Memory Clarity: Crystal
Status: Last Happy Moment
[Time Until Primary Incident: 00:05:54]
I stop in the act of mouthing cotton candy and stare at the strange words hanging in the air for a moment. I’m distracted by my father’s voice, causing me to blink. In the space of that blink, the words disappear and everything is as it was before.
Some kind of special effect, I think. Nowadays, they can do all kinds of things with laser projectors. Probably some advertising gimmick.
“Aai! Look at your son, Lakshmi!” Baba calls to my mother. “Almost twelve and still eating like a small child!”
But even as he teases, he licks pink sugar from his own fingers, savoring this rare luxury.
My brother Arun rolls his eyes—fifteen and already too grown for such things—but I catch him watching the candy anyway.
I hold out my stick, offering to share, but he shakes his head.
Since he began hanging with that older group of chawlie boys, he’s grown more distant and introverted. I miss the Arun he was before: that Arun would have thanked me for sharing and pretended to eat it all until I protested.
At least my little sister Asha knows better than to refuse. She grins at me with pink-stained teeth, wearing the only frock she owns for this special occasion. Aai spent an hour oiling and plaiting her hair before we left, making sure we’d look our best for Baba’s celebration.
[Family Unit Analysis]
- Father (Designation: “Baba”): Recently promoted
- Mother (Designation: “Aai”): Primary caregiver
- Brother (Designation: “Arun”): Protective/Distant
- Sister (Designation: “Asha”): Bonded ally
Survival Probability as Unit: [CALCULATING...]
[Time Until Primary Incident: 00:05:39]
I glance around to try to spot the source of the peculiar floating words: a projector installed in some discrete place, flashing these strange advertisements in the air? Some kind of new device, working off a smartphone? Or some entirely new kind of technology?
Patil, a guy in the chawl who can procure anything for the right sum, was talking about some kind of Virtual Reality goggles that enable you to immerse yourself in a video game in which the phantom creatures are part of the real world around the user. But I’m not wearing any goggles and I don’t see any other way for the words to be projected.
The mela spreads out around us in a riot of color and light and motion. Paper lanterns sway between poles like strings of captured stars, their patterns reflecting off the metal skeleton of the Giant Wheel—the biggest Ferris wheel I’ve ever seen, stretching so high it seems to scrape Mumbai’s perpetually hazy sky.
[Time Until Incident: 00:03:47]
I frown at this new message as a mouthful of cotton candy melts on my tongue. A blink makes it go away, and I shrug. Best to just ignore the messages. Or advertisements. Or whatever they are.
Probably some high tech gimmick for some new virtual reality device. The kind of gadget that the likes of us can’t even dare to dream of affording. I’ll learn to ignore it the way I ignore foods at the store which I know we can never afford to buy. Even if they are essential.
“You’re spoiling them,” Aai says to Baba, but she’s smiling too.
I can’t remember the last time I saw all of us happy at once.
An outing and celebration like this is so rare, I can only remember one previous occasion that even comes close to it, and even that is a vague, faded memory from many years ago.
My mother’s laughter at something my father says makes me smile too. Seeing her happy makes me feel happy too.
Usually there''s always something: Aai''s cough from the kerosene smoke that fills our one room when she cooks, or Arun''s quiet anger after someone at school called him a slumdog, or the bone-deep exhaustion in Baba''s eyes after another day of cleaning other people''s filth.
But today is different. Today everything changes. I see the change in Baba’s eyes now, the way they light up, reflecting the colored lights of the mela, in Aai’s smile, rarer than fresh marigold flowers at Diwali, and just as lovely.
Today, the Naman family is floating on a cloud of hope and aspiration.
[Warning: Timeline Convergence Detected]
[Causal Nexus Forming]
[Fate Lock Engaging]
[Time Until Primary Incident: 00:03:04]
“Let me spoil them a little, no?” Baba puts his arm around Aai’s shoulders. “Today we celebrate! Your husband is now officially employed by the Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai!”
He says the words like they’re made of gold. “A proper government job, with benefits! All those years of organizing, of fighting for our rights—see? Change comes slowly, but it comes.”
[Subject’s Future Probability Matrix Shifting]
Previous Life Path: Limited
New Potential Paths Unlocking: [REDACTED]
Warning: Critical Moment Approaching
[Time Until Primary Incident: 00:01:08]
I blink this one away impatiently. “And now we can afford two rooms in the chawl?” I ask through a mouthful of dissolving sugar. We’ve been sharing a single room—all five of us—for as long as I can remember.
“Yes, beta.” Baba ruffles my hair. “Two rooms! And a gas cylinder for your Aai, so she won’t have to breathe that kerosene smoke anymore. Maybe even a small second hand television, eventually.”
The line for the Giant Wheel moves forward, and we shuffle closer to what will become our last moment of normal life. Above us, the massive wheel turns against the darkening sky, its skeleton outlined in blinking lights that paint patterns against the clouds.
[ALERT: DIMENSIONAL BREACH IMMINENT]
[Timeline Lock Engaged]
[Subject’s Life Path: Redirecting...]
[The System Awakens]
[Time Until Primary Incident: 00:00:07]
I frown.
These messages are starting to annoy me now.
I blink this one away as well, and crane my neck, trying to see the very top where the Ferris wheel seems to almost merge with an overhanging cloud, and that’s when I see it:
A crack in the sky.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
[DIMENSIONAL BREACH DETECTED]
Quantum Point: Alphaverse planet#CH972,
Location: Country Class: India, City Class: Mumbai
Type: Class-5 Reality Fracture
Warning: Unauthorized Incursion
Threat Level: [MAXIMUM]
A line of blinding white light splitting the purple evening like a knife wound in reality itself. And through that wound, something is coming.
I raise my hand to shield it, feeling the light pierce my brain like a needle.
At first I think it’s a trick of the Ferris wheel’s lights, like when Aai’s sari catches the sun and makes rainbow patterns on our walls. But the crack grows wider, and wider, and the darkness pouring through it isn’t like any darkness I’ve ever seen. It moves. It has texture, like ink in water, or smoke that’s alive.
“Baba?” My voice comes out small. Nobody seems to notice yet—the line keeps shuffling forward, music still pounds from the speakers, children still shriek with delight from the top of the wheel. “Baba, look—”
Then the first shapes emerge.
[HOSTILE ENTITIES EMERGING]
[Threat Analysis]
Type: Necro-Dragon
Size: 47 meters wingspan
Abilities:
- Reality-warping flight
- Hyperthermal breath
- Metal-rending claws
- Lava-drip saliva
- Psychic assault
Weakness: [INSUFFICIENT DATA]
Warning: Subject severely under-leveled for current encounter
Tutorial Recommendation: FLEE
Recommended Action: [ERROR - NO SURVIVAL SCENARIO FOUND]
They’re too big to be real. Like mountains with wings, but mountains made of shadow and bone and things I don’t have words for. Each one is bigger than our entire chawl block. As they pour through the wound in the sky, I can see riders on their backs—figures in black robes and hoods whose eyes glow with sickly green light, like the phosphorescence that sometimes grows on rotting fish in the market.
The music stops.
The whole mela seems to hold its breath.
From our spot near the Ferris wheel, we have a clear view across Chhatrapati Park maidan to the city beyond. The British-era buildings along Cadell Road look like toys beneath the massive shapes wheeling in the sky. The dragon-things spread out across Mumbai like a closing fist.
The first blast of orange fire hits the statue of Chhatrapati, reducing it to metal slag instantly. The molten metal splashes to the base, white hot puddles forming on the concrete apron and spilling over to the bare ground.
[Damage Analysis]
Weapon Type: Necro-Plasma
Temperature: 15,000°C
Effect: Matter/Reality Dissolution
Defense Required: Currently Impossible
Subject Current Defense Rating: 0
A highrise building across from the park is struck by another flame blast.
The structure doesn’t just break—it melts, flowing down its sides like candle wax. I hear the screams even from here, see tiny figures at the windows as the floors collapse inward and are consumed by the heat.
More dragons dive between the buildings, breathing that impossible fire. Buildings crumple. The Chhatrapati gate splits in half and crumbles to fragments. All around us, Mumbai begins to burn.
“Ramji bachchao!” Aai’s prayer mingles with a thousand others as the mela crowd realizes what they’re seeing.
A dragon banks around a blocky government building, its merged rider-body pulsing with a corona of energy. The colonial-era stone edifice explodes outward, raining burning debris across the crowded street, crushing cars and buses like flimsy tin cans, killing their occupants. The air itself seems to recoil, shimmering waves spreading outwards from the swooping, lunging monstrosities.
That’s when one of the dragons breaks formation. It wheels around the collapsed hulk of the Himalaya Bridge, banking toward Chhatrapati Park. As it draws closer, I can see it more clearly—and I wish I couldn’t. The dragon and its rider have merged into something that hurts my eyes to look at, like two photographs overlapped wrong. Their edges blur together, green light pulsing through their joined form like sick heartbeats.
The thing’s dual heads—dragon and human-thing melted together—fix on our crowd with eyes that glow like radiation. Steam rises where its claws touch the air itself, and I smell something burning before it even reaches us, like the whole world is catching fire.
The thing’s eyes find me first—all of them, dragon and rider both—and something reaches into my mind like fingers made of ice. I taste metal and smell colors that don’t exist. The world stretches and warps around me as thoughts that aren’t mine flood my head.
Then it opens its mouths.
The first blast of orange fire heads straight for us.
The first blast of volcanic flame hits the Giant Wheel. Metal screams as the massive structure begins to melt. Whole cars full of families dissolve into slag, their screams lost in the roar of otherworldly flame. The wheel’s support struts buckle, and the whole thing starts to tip toward the crowd.
“Run!” someone shouts, and the spell of stillness breaks.
[Structural Analysis]
Giant Wheel Status: CRITICAL
Mass: 228 tons
Trajectory: Impact in 12 seconds
Affected Area: 78 meters radius
Survival Chance in Impact Zone: 0%
[Skill Check: Movement]
Agility: 2/100
Speed: 3/100
Reaction Time: 7/100
Status: Physical Parameters Insufficient
WARNING: Current stats cannot support survival
The mela erupts into chaos. Thousands of people try to flee at once, but there’s nowhere to go. The dragon-thing’s wings create hurricane gusts as it lands, sending tents and stalls flying like paper toys. I see the chaat seller lifted off his feet, still clutching his ladle, before he disappears into the darkness.
[Environmental Effect: Dragon Wind]
Force: 248 km/h
Your Weight: 27 kg
Required Stability: 85
Your Stability: 1
Status: [CRITICAL FAILURE IMMINENT]
“This way!” Baba grabs my arm. The cotton candy is still stuck to my other hand as we run. We make it three steps before the next blast of fire cuts through the crowd behind us.
I make the mistake of looking back. A whole family—parents and three children—catches the edge of the blast. Their clothes ignite first, then their hair, then their skin begins to bubble and peel like paint in the heat. They’re still running as they burn, leaving trails of melting flesh behind them. The smallest child stumbles and—
Aai yanks my head forward. “Don’t look, beta.”
But there’s nowhere to look that isn’t horror. The carousel horses are melting, their painted smiles turning to screaming grimaces as they drip onto the children still strapped to their backs. The ring toss booth explodes, sending burning stuffed animals raining down like comets. A group of teenagers tries to hide behind a steel shipping container, but the dragon’s fire turns it into an oven, cooking them alive inside.
The smell is everywhere—burning hair, melting plastic, cooking meat. The cotton candy in my hand has melted completely, pink sugar running down my arm like blood.
More people run past us: a woman holding a charred bundle that might have been a baby, an old man whose glasses have melted into his face, two boys about my age supporting their grandfather between them. The dragon’s fire catches them all. They die running, or crawling, or huddled together. Some try to hide under tables or behind stalls, but the fire finds them anyway. It melts through metal and stone like they’re made of wax.
[Mass Casualty Event]
Deaths in Range: 847
Deaths Witnessed: 23
Subject Death Probability: 99.997%
“We can’t outrun it,” Arun says, his voice cracking. He’s right. I can see people who ran faster than us, who got further away. The dragon is toying with them, picking them off one by one, almost lazy in its cruelty.
[Tactical Analysis]
Current Strategy: Flight
Success Chance: 0%
Alternative Options: 1
Survival Route: [DETECTING...]
That’s when I see it—a sheet of corrugated asbestos that fell from one of the stalls, propped against a concrete barrier at an angle. Big enough for three people. Asbestos doesn’t burn—I know this from the sheets covering our chawl. They cause cancer. People die of lung cancer from breathing asbestos particles. But they don’t burn.
[Intelligence Check: PASSED]
Observation Skill: +1
Problem-Solving: +2
Survival Instinct: Evolving
System Note: First sign of potential
“There!” I pull Aai’s hand. “Under that—”
The dragon lands right in front of us, its claws melting divots in the pavement. This close, I can see how rider and beast have fused into something impossible. Their flesh flows together like wax, orange light pulsing through their joined veins. Steam rises from their multiple mouths as they all turn to look at us.
recognition/interest/death
[Neural Bridge Forming]
Connection Type: Impossible
Duration: 2.3 seconds
Effect: Permanent
Change Status: Initiating
The alien thoughts hit me again, stronger this time. Behind them I feel something vast and cold and hungry, older than cities, older than civilization. It reaches into my mind with terrible curiosity, like a scientist examining a bug before pulling off its wings.
“Keep running!” Baba pushes us toward the asbestos sheet. “I’ll—”
The dragon’s heads rear back. Orange fire builds in their throats.
“Aai!” I drag her under the asbestos sheet. Arun tumbles in beside us. The space is small, cramped, hot with our panicked breathing. Through the gap between sheet and ground, I can see Baba still standing there. Why isn’t he running? Why isn’t he—
There’s no heroic last stand. No final words. Just my father’s body coming apart in the otherworldly flames, like a candle left too long in the sun. His skin bubbles and runs like wax. His bones show through as luminous volcanic flames eat him from the inside out. The permanent silver tooth he was so proud of—the one he saved three months’ wages for—melts and runs down what’s left of his chin.
Aai’s hands clamp over my eyes but it’s too late. The image is burned into my mind forever: my father dissolving in dragon fire the same day he finally won his dignity.
And we’re going to be next.