Eternal Storm: Volume 1 – The Awakening

The thought lingered in Aryan's mind long after the cafeteria had emptied.

Am I just seeing this war? Or am I meant to be a part of it?

As he walked through the hallways, heading towards his next class, that question refused to leave him. He had felt the changes in himself—his intelligence, his perception, even his ability to respond in ways he never could before. It was as if his mind was evolving, pushing past old limitations. But why? Was it the necklace? Or was it something even deeper?

By the time school ended, he had gone through the motions of the day without even realizing it. His mind was too preoccupied with the recurring dreams. The battlefield. The warriors. The different figures who wore the necklace each night.

And so, that night, when he finally lay down to sleep, he already knew what awaited him.

The moment his eyes shut, the world around him dissolved.

Aryan found himself standing once again on the battlefield. The war raged as it always did—chaos unfolding in every direction. The air was thick with the scent of burning metal and blood. Strange creatures clashed against warriors of all kinds—humans, aliens, beings he couldn't even begin to describe. The sky above was split by streaks of light, weapons clashing, explosions igniting in the distance.

But tonight, something was different.

Aryan's gaze locked onto the figure who bore the necklace this time. It wasn't an alien. It wasn't a soldier.

It was an old man.

The man stood at the center of the chaos, unmoving as warriors fell around him. He wore long, tattered robes, his face lined with deep wrinkles, yet his eyes were sharp, filled with wisdom and something else—sadness. The black necklace rested against his chest, glowing faintly with strange shifting symbols, just like Aryan's.

Aryan tried to move closer, but his body felt sluggish, as if he were walking through thick air.

The old man finally turned to him. His gaze met Aryan's, and for the first time in all these dreams, someone acknowledged his presence.

Aryan's breath caught in his throat.

The old man stared at him for a long moment before speaking. His voice wasn't loud, yet it cut through the chaos of battle like a blade through silence.

"You are not ready for this."

Aryan felt a sudden weight press against his chest, as if an invisible force had struck him. He gasped, stumbling backward.

The dream blurred, twisting around him. The battlefield, the sky, the warriors—it all began to fade into darkness.

Then, nothing.

Aryan's eyes shot open.

His body was drenched in sweat, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. He sat up, gripping the edge of his bed, his mind racing.

That had never happened before.

Every night, the dream had been the same—only the wearer of the necklace changed. But this time, the dream ended with a message.

"You are not ready for this."

Aryan swallowed hard. Was it a warning? A test? What did it mean?

As he sat there, staring at his hands, he realized something else.

The dreams… had stopped.

For the next several nights, no matter how much he tried, he did not dream of the battlefield again. No warriors. No changing figures. No old man.

Nothing.

It was as if something had severed the connection.

And Aryan had no idea why.

Days passed, and life seemed to return to normal—or at least, as normal as it could be for him now. But even as he went about his routine, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Something was missing.

And then, one evening, curiosity led him back to the ruins.

The place where it had all started.

The asteroid crash site.

But when he arrived, he wasn't alone.

Aryan froze at the sight before him. Government officials in protective suits were moving around the crater, loading the remains of the asteroid onto large, armored trucks. Men in military uniforms stood nearby, watching over the operation. Scientists were taking samples, examining what was left.

His eyes narrowed. So they were investigating it after all.

Was this for research? Or was there something they weren't telling the public?

Aryan didn't stick around to find out. He turned away, walking back toward the city.

As he made his way home, something caught his eye.

A TV screen in a store window was displaying the news. A reporter stood in front of a police barricade, her voice urgent.

"The city is facing its highest crime rate in years. Gangs have begun resurfacing, and authorities believe a new wave of organized crime is taking control. Police sources report that these groups are more dangerous and unpredictable than ever before. Citizens are advised to stay alert and avoid suspicious areas."

Aryan frowned. He had noticed the shift—people seemed more on edge lately, shops were closing earlier, and the number of police patrols had increased. But he hadn't realized it had gotten this bad.

Just as he was about to walk away, a familiar voice called out.

"Aryan? Is that you?"

He turned.

Aadhya was standing a few feet away, her hands in her jacket pockets.

"You're out pretty late," she said, stepping closer.

Aryan glanced at the TV screen again before looking back at her. "I could say the same to you."

Aadhya smirked. "I was just wandering around. Needed some air." She nodded toward the screen. "Guess I'm not the only one noticing things are getting worse."

Aryan crossed his arms. "Yeah. It's like the city is changing overnight."

She studied him for a moment. "And what about you? What are you doing out here?"

Aryan hesitated for a second before replying. "I was at the ruins."

Aadhya's eyes narrowed slightly. "The ruins? You mean the asteroid crash site?"

He nodded.

She tilted her head. "Why?"

Aryan thought about lying, but something in her expression told him she wouldn't buy it.

"Just… checking something," he said vaguely.

Aadhya didn't push, but he could tell she wasn't satisfied with that answer.

After a moment, she sighed. "Well, whatever you're wrapped up in, don't get yourself into trouble, okay?"

Aryan gave a small, humorless chuckle. "No promises."

Aadhya rolled her eyes. "Of course."

They stood there in silence for a few seconds before she spoke again.

"Hey, Aryan."

He looked at her.

She hesitated, then said, "If you ever need someone to talk to… you know, about whatever's going on… I'm around."

Aryan blinked, caught off guard by her words.

For the first time in a while, he didn't know what to say.

Aadhya gave him a small smile, then turned and walked off into the night.

Aryan watched her go, then glanced back at the TV screen one last time.

A gang war. Rising crime. The government investigating the asteroid.

Everything was shifting.

And Aryan had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

Aryan watched as Aadhya disappeared into the night, her figure fading between the pools of streetlight. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the empty sidewalk where she had been.

Her words still lingered.

"If you ever need someone to talk to… I'm around."

It was such a simple thing to say. And yet, it unsettled him.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone had offered to understand him.

But how could she?

Even he didn't understand what was happening to him.

His eyes drifted back to the television screen in the store window. The news anchor continued speaking, but Aryan barely registered the words. The images told the story well enough—crime rates rising, officials scrambling for control, warnings to citizens.

But Aryan knew—none of this had anything to do with him.

Whatever was happening in the city was its own chaos, driven by forces beyond his concern. His battles weren't fought in the streets. His war was something else entirely—something older, something unseen, lurking in the remnants of his vanished dreams.

The world was shifting.

And so was he.

Aryan finally turned away and started walking home.

The night air was colder than before, or maybe it was just his thoughts weighing him down. His mind replayed everything—the government officials at the asteroid site, the old man's warning, the dreams suddenly disappearing.

Why now?

Why had the dreams stopped after that last vision?

"You are not ready for this."

The words echoed in his mind, deeper than just a memory. They felt like a lock clicking into place, sealing something away.

Was he truly not ready? Or was someone—or something—keeping him from seeing more?

As he passed through the quieter streets, a strange sensation crawled up his spine.

That feeling again.

Someone watching.

Aryan's steps slowed. His eyes darted around the dimly lit road, scanning the alleys, the parked cars, the rooftops. Nothing. But the feeling didn't go away.

It wasn't just paranoia.

He knew someone was there.

He could feel it.

His hands clenched at his sides. The necklace beneath his shirt felt heavier than usual, almost as if it were reacting to his unease.

And then—

A whisper of movement.

Aryan turned sharply, his pulse spiking. But the street behind him was empty.

Nothing.

Only the wind rustling through the trees.

Slowly, he exhaled, forcing himself to move again. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe his mind was still trapped in the dream world, unable to fully separate reality from the visions.

Or maybe…

He wasn't the only one paying attention.

When Aryan finally reached home, the house was silent, his parents already asleep. He stepped into his room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

For a long moment, he just stood there.

Staring at the closed door.

Waiting.

Nothing.

No movement outside. No footsteps. No shadows shifting beneath the streetlights.

And yet, the unease remained.

Slowly, he reached beneath his shirt and pulled out the necklace. The metal was cool against his skin, its surface glowing faintly in the dark.

It looked the same as always. And yet, tonight, it felt different.

He tightened his grip around it.

Whatever was coming…

He had a feeling it wasn't going to wait for him to be ready.

With one last glance at the window, Aryan let the necklace drop back against his chest, climbed into bed, and closed his eyes.

For the first time in days, he didn't expect a dream to come.

But something told him…

The real nightmares were just beginning.

END OF CHAPTER 8