Billi Bong

Anaya and Aryan ran through the dimly lit streets of Noida, their hearts pounding in their chests. The wind howled behind them, and shadows danced on the walls, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

As they turned a corner, Anaya pulled Aryan into an alley, her breath coming in short gasps. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide with fear. “We need to hide,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their pounding hearts.

Aryan didn’t argue. He followed her into the darkness of the alley, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t begin to answer. Who were these people who had cursed them? And why were they so determined to keep them apart?

Anaya led him to a rickety old door at the end of the alley. She pushed it open, revealing a secret hideout—a dimly lit room filled with candles and the scent of incense. In the center of the room sat a small table, upon which rested a dusty old book and a faded photograph.

Anaya closed the door behind them, her eyes never leaving the photo. “This is our only hope,” she said, her voice trembling. “If we can break the curse, we can finally be together.”

Aryan approached the table, his curiosity piqued. He picked up the book, his fingers tracing the old, worn pages. It was a book of spells, he realized, with symbols and sigils he had never seen before.

“Can you read this?” Anaya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I… I don’t know,” Aryan admitted. “It’s in a language I’ve never seen before.”

Anaya sighed. “I thought as much. We need to find someone who can help us. Someone who can read these ancient texts.”

Aryan nodded, his mind whirling with possibilities. “We need to find a scholar, someone who studies this kind of thing.”

“Exactly,” Anaya replied, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “And I know just the person.”

She led him back out into the night, her steps sure and her determination unwavering. They raced through the streets, weaving in and out of crowds, their hearts pounding in their chests.

Finally, they reached a small library on the outskirts of town. Anaya pushed open the door, revealing a dimly lit room filled with rows upon rows of dusty old books. A frail old man sat behind the counter, his eyes closed as he read a book.

Anaya approached him, her voice trembling. “Excuse me, sir,” she said. “I’m looking for someone who can help me translate an ancient text.”

The old man looked up, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “And what text might that be?” he asked.

Anaya pulled out the book from the alley, opening it to reveal the first page. The old man’s eyes widened in surprise. “My, my,” he said. “This is indeed an ancient text. I may be of some help.”

Anaya and Aryan exchanged relieved glances. They followed the old man to a small study room in the back of the library, where he pored over the book, muttering to himself in a language Aryan couldn’t understand.

Hours passed, the room growing dimmer as the sun set and the night crept in. Finally, the old man looked up, his eyes shining with excitement. “I believe I have figured out how to break the curse,” he said. “It will be a dangerous quest, but if you’re willing, I can help you.”

Aryan looked at Anaya, their eyes locking. “We’re in,” he said. The adventure had just begun, and they were ready to face whatever lay ahead, together.

-Mr. Pen