The air in Rajasthan carried a strange familiarity, as if it whispered forgotten names through the rustling leaves. Vihaan and Myra wandered through the city, visiting the places that had appeared in their dreams.
The old market street, the temple by the lake, the narrow alleys leading to what once was a grand palace—all of them felt eerily known. They didn't need maps. Their feet carried them where they were meant to go.
One afternoon, they found themselves outside an old bookshop, its wooden sign weathered by time. Something about the place tugged at Vihaan's memory. Myra, too, hesitated before stepping inside.
The moment they entered, an elderly man behind the counter looked up, his gaze lingering a little too long. His eyes widened slightly, but he masked it with a polite smile.
"Welcome," he said, his voice steady but curious.
Vihaan and Myra exchanged a glance.
The shop was filled with aged books, some so old their spines barely held together. Myra's fingers grazed over a shelf, stopping at a book titled The Lost Histories of Rathore Estate. Her heart skipped a beat.
"You seem familiar," the shopkeeper suddenly said. "Have we met before?"
Vihaan hesitated. "I don't think so. We just arrived in the city."
The old man studied them carefully. Then, as if making a decision, he gestured to a younger man in his twenties who had been sorting books nearby.
"This is my grandson, Arjun," he introduced. "I am Viren." His next words sent a shiver down their spines. "My great-grandfather was Professor Virender."
Vihaan and Myra stood frozen.
Professor Virender—the man who had once helped Satya and Saanvi uncover the truth.
Arjun stepped forward, eyeing them with curiosity. "It's strange," he admitted, tilting his head. "You look just like the people in my great-grandfather's old sketches."
Vihaan and Myra's breath caught.
"What do you mean?" Myra asked carefully.
Viren sighed, stepping out from behind the counter. "Perhaps… this is fate bringing you here," he said. "Maybe you are meant to know the rest of the story."