Part 2 – The Heart of the Sun People
The morning after the attack, the jungle felt different—quieter, as if holding its breath. Mist curled through the trees, and the air carried the weight of something ancient watching them.
Rohan, Meera, and Aarav packed quickly, knowing Vikram Raaz would not be far behind. Rohan slipped the brass pendant—the key—around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt. Every instinct told him that once they stepped into Aaryan, there would be no turning back.
The map’s final symbol led them down into the valley they had glimpsed the night before. As they descended, the forest gave way to ruins—half-buried pillars, shattered statues, and massive stone walls entangled with roots. Golden sunlight spilled through the canopy, glinting off something ahead.
They reached an enormous stone gate carved with two suns, one above the other. In the center was a circular depression, exactly the size of Rohan’s pendant. Meera stepped forward, her voice trembling with awe.
“This is the Gate of the Sun People,” she whispered. “It hasn’t been opened in hundreds of years.”
Rohan took a deep breath and slid the pendant into place. The mechanism groaned, ancient gears turning. The suns rotated slowly, and with a rumble like distant thunder, the gates began to part.
A rush of warm, perfumed air swept past them, carrying the scent of sandalwood and something metallic—gold.
Beyond the gates lay a sight that took their breath away.
The city of Aaryan spread before them, bathed in sunlight. Golden spires pierced the sky, reflecting dazzling light in every direction. Marble streets wound between lush gardens, fountains still flowing with crystal-clear water. But despite its beauty, the city was silent. Too silent.
As they stepped inside, Aarav muttered, “Feels like it’s waiting for something… or someone.”
They moved cautiously, noting the strange symbols etched into the streets. Meera recognized them as warnings—glyphs describing tests of worthiness.
The first came quickly. Crossing a wide plaza, Rohan felt the ground shift beneath him. Tiles began to sink, and spears shot upward from hidden gaps. They sprinted, leaping between safe tiles, each movement guided by Meera shouting directions. One misstep and they’d have been skewered.
The second test was subtler. In the Hall of Mirrors, golden walls reflected their images endlessly. The map showed a way out, but every path looked identical. Aarav spotted the trick—a faint draft that guided them through the correct corridor. Without it, they might have wandered forever.
The third test stopped them cold.
At the city’s heart stood the Temple of the Eternal Sun. Its entrance was guarded by a massive golden statue of a warrior holding a spear. The moment they approached, the statue’s eyes glowed, and it came to life with a grinding roar.
Rohan’s instincts screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go. The statue swung its spear, smashing the ground where Aarav had stood a moment earlier. Meera yelled, “Look for the sun symbols—there must be a pattern!”
Rohan spotted them—small carvings on the temple steps. He shouted for Aarav to distract the guardian while he moved across the steps in the correct sequence. The final tile clicked under his foot, and the guardian froze, then stepped aside.
Inside the temple, the air shimmered with golden light. At the center, on a pedestal, lay the Heart of the Sun People—a fist-sized orb of pure gold, etched with intricate lines that seemed to move like flowing sunlight.
But they weren’t alone.
Vikram Raaz stepped from the shadows, his rifle aimed directly at Rohan. His two remaining men flanked him, one limping from the pitfall incident.
“I’ll take the Heart now,” Vikram said coolly. “Hand it over, and maybe I’ll let you live.”
Rohan glanced at Meera and Aarav. Their eyes said the same thing: Don’t give it to him.
Rohan stalled. “You know the legends. The Heart isn’t just treasure—it’s power. It chooses its keeper. Are you sure it will choose you?”
Vikram smirked. “Power belongs to the man strong enough to take it.” He stepped forward, but the moment his fingers touched the orb, a searing light flared. He screamed, clutching his hand, and the orb rolled toward Rohan.
Without thinking, Rohan caught it. The moment he did, the orb pulsed warmly in his hand, and the golden light enveloped him. The walls trembled, dust falling from the ceiling.
Meera’s voice was urgent. “The city is sealing itself! We have to go—now!”
They sprinted out as pillars cracked and streets split apart. Vikram shouted after them, but the collapsing city cut him off. The gates began to close, the suns grinding back into place.
Rohan, Meera, and Aarav leapt through just as the gates slammed shut behind them. The valley shook, and when the dust cleared, Aaryan was gone—vanished beneath the jungle as if it had never been there.
They stood in silence, hearts pounding. Rohan opened his hand. The Heart of the Sun People lay there, its glow dimmed but still warm.
Aarav grinned. “So… what now? Sell it to a museum? Hide it forever?”
Rohan looked toward the horizon. “The Heart chose me. That means its story isn’t over. And neither is ours.”
Far away, deep in the jungle, a faint, cold voice echoed in Rohan’s mind—Vikram Raaz, swearing he would return.
The adventure wasn’t finished. It had only just begun.
