I was three years old when I first saw the fire.

Not in reality, but in a dream, a dream so vivid that it felt like I had lived through it, breathed in the suffocating smoke, and felt the heat sear my skin. I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, my small hands trembling as they clutched at the fabric of my blanket. But in that moment of terror, I knew exactly where I had to go.

"Papa..." My voice was small, quivering.

I ran barefoot through the dimly lit corridor, the cold floor sending chills up my spine. The flickering light from my father’s study cast long shadows as I approached the only person who could make me feel safe.

He was sitting by the window, as he always did, a book resting on his lap, lost in thought. His face was partially illuminated by the glow of the lamp beside him, his expression serene yet distant. I never understood why he spent so much time staring into the night.

When he saw me, his sharp gaze softened. He set the book aside, reaching out for me. Without hesitation, I climbed onto his lap, burying my face into his chest. He smelled of old paper and sandalwood, a scent that I’d always associate with home.

"What happened, babu?" His voice was calm, soothing.

I sniffled, gripping his robe tightly. "Bad dream... fire... Papa, you weren’t there."

For the first time, his expression faltered. It was brief, just a flicker of something in his eyes before he masked it with a reassuring smile.

"It was just a dream," he said, stroking my hair. "Dreams can’t hurt you."

I wasn’t convinced. "Will you ever leave me alone, Papa?"

He chuckled, shifting his posture. "Only a bad parent would leave their child."

I hesitated before whispering, "Then... is Mummy bad?"

I had never seen her. Only vague flashes of warmth, a soft touch, a blurry face I could never fully remember.

My father’s smile wavered. "No, babu. Your mother loves you very much. She’s just... out for work."

He said it as if he were convincing himself more than me. I was too young to understand what the pain in his eyes meant, but I felt it.

I had calmed down by then, but I still needed to tell him. "Papa, I saw lots of fire. And you... you weren’t there."

His fingers tensed against my back. The silence stretched too long before he spoke again, this time with an unusual urgency.

"Babu, will you do something for Papa?"

I nodded eagerly.

He took a deep breath. "No matter what you see, no matter what dreams you have, don’t tell anyone. Keep them to yourself. Promise me."

I didn’t understand why, but his voice was different, serious, pleading. So, I nodded. "I promise."

Satisfied, he kissed my forehead, pulling me closer as he gently patted my head. The rhythmic motion lulled me into sleep, safe and sound in his arms.

That was the last time I ever felt safe.

Days later, my world burned.

I woke to the very fire I had seen, surrounding me in an inferno of collapsing walls and suffocating heat.

"Papa lied..." I choked through sobs, crawling toward the door, the wood searing my palms.

The fire swallowed everything. My home, my father, my belief that dreams were just dreams. I should have known better. I saw it happen before it did. And yet, I couldn’t stop it.

I was alone.

They found me hours later, buried in the wreckage, a terrified child with nothing left. My grandfather took me in, bringing me to Uttarakhand, where the mountains swallowed my cries.

For years, I waited. First, with hope. Then, with denial. Then, with the numbing acceptance that my father was never coming back. And my mother, wherever she was, never would either.

I had friends, people around me, but I was never with them. There was always a wall, an invisible space between me and the rest of the world. My premonitions never stopped. I kept them to myself, just like my father told me to.

Until one day, I broke the rule.

There was a boy, not quite a friend, but not a stranger either. Over time, he became someone I saw often enough to acknowledge, someone whose presence felt familiar. And somehow, that was enough for him to leave an imprint on me. My premonitions were always tethered to those around me, surfacing only when my thoughts lingered on someone a little too long.

Then, one night, I saw him, standing at the edge of a road, a flash of headlights, the sickening crunch of metal against flesh. I jolted awake, heart pounding, the image seared into my mind. He was going to die.

I didn’t want that to happen. Maybe I was foolish, maybe I was desperate to prove to myself that fate wasn’t unshakable. That I wasn’t powerless. I ran to his parents, breathless, pleading, begging them to listen.

They laughed. They mocked me.

"You’re making up stories." "Stop scaring people." "Get lost, kid."

Days later, their son died exactly as I had seen.

No one believed me. No one ever would.

And so, I stopped telling anyone. Stopped trying. Stopped caring.

Because what was the point of knowing, if I could do nothing? What was the point of seeing, if no one would listen?

My grandfather was the only one who never dismissed me. But even he couldn’t stop time. His body withered, weakened, and eventually, he too left me behind.

I was seven. Alone again. Too scared to be left in this cruel world again.

My father’s words, ‘only a bad parent leaves their child’ echoed in my head. Maybe he was wrong. Or maybe he had never planned to leave. Maybe fate had taken him away against his will. But if that was true... then fate was my enemy.

And then at my grandfather’s funeral, I met my cousin for the first time, Dhrithra. He was my age, yet he looked at me with disdain, as if I were filth.

My Tauji approached me, his presence towering. "Kriday, let us take care of you."

It was a statement, not a request.

I didn’t trust him. But I had no choice. I had nothing left.

And so, I left my past behind, stepping into an uncertain future, carrying a burden no child should ever bear, 

The weight of knowing.

I had always thought of my precognition as a curse, seeing the future and being powerless to change it. But lately, I have started testing its limits. If I couldn’t alter the outcome, could I at least use it to my advantage?

Dhrithra, my cousin, was an arrogant brat, drunk on the power his father wielded. He despised me, looked down on me, and never missed a chance to remind me of my insignificance. I had done my best to stay out of his way, but fate had a cruel sense of humor.

A school trip had been organized, and Tauji had ordered Dhrithra to take me along. He resisted, protested, but ultimately, he had no choice.

“Why do I need to babysit that lowborn?” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.

“He is your cousin, and I believe you can at least think of him in a better way,” Tauji responded, calm and unwavering.

Dhrithra scoffed. “Fine. I’ll take him, but if anything happens to him, I’m not responsible.” He stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

I had been watching from a distance, hidden in the shadows. I knew he was planning something, some petty way to make the trip miserable for me. But I didn’t care. Because this time, I had already seen what was going to happen.

And I was going to use it.

The morning of the trip, I woke up with a strange sense of anticipation. My dream, no, my vision, had played on a loop in my head all night. I knew what was coming. I knew the exact moment it would happen. More or less it will be test on how can I better use this ability for the best 

Dhrithra and I left for school at noon. The bus ride was loud, filled with the chatter of excited students. I kept my distance, watching. My eyes occasionally flickers toward Dhrithra, who was basking in the attention of his followers. He was untouchable in his own mind, invincible.

The location chosen for our trip was a nature reserve on the outskirts of Faridabad, Surjakund, Also known as Death valley, a place of beauty, but also danger. Dense forests, uneven trails, and steep cliffs.

And that was where it was going to happen.

In my dream, I had seen it clearly.

Not Dhrithra.

Shishta.

She had been in my grade since the beginning, always present, yet always just out of reach. I never let myself think too much about her, but something about her presence lingered, like a whisper in the back of my mind. And now, my precognition had anchored itself to her.

The vision had come the night before, sharp and unrelenting.

I had always believed my precognition was a curse, showing me glimpses of the future but never letting me truly alter it. But today, I tested its limits. Today, I made a change.

It wasn't perfect. But it was a start. I had seen her fall, just the motion, not the end. Not yet dead, but the cliff was too steep. But I forced myself awake before the vision could finish.If I could wake up before the end, maybe I could change it. Maybe fate wasn’t absolute.

Tonight, I will find out.

"Hey Dhrithra, isn’t he your cousin?"

Vishesh, ever the snake, smirked as he pointed at me. His voice was low enough to seem innocent but loud enough to sting.

Dhrithra’s eyes flickered toward me for a fraction of a second before his expression hardened. "I’m not related to him. He’s just a freeloader my father pitied. And could you shut up? Don’t make it obvious."

I could hear the pity in his voice, deeper than the words themselves. He wanted to convince himself more than he wanted to convince Vishesh.

Vishesh chuckled, nudging another boy as if sharing a private joke. My fists clenched, but I stayed silent. I knew what came next, I had already foreseen it.

The group huddled closer, whispering among themselves, their scheming just beyond my hearing range. But it didn’t matter. I had already listened to this conversation before.

We arrived at the camp just as the last light of the sun faded. The teachers, busy organizing sleeping arrangements, weren’t paying close attention.

Neither was I.

I drifted away from the group, letting my steps take me beyond the immediate campgrounds. It wasn’t aimless wandering, I needed to confirm something. The forest was dense, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. I let the solitude settle over me, knowing I couldn’t stay out for long.

By the time I returned, the students were lining up for a final headcount.

Perfect timing.

No one had noticed my absence.

But something was off.

I caught the sharp gaze of Mr. Dhyan, the PT teacher, sweeping over the students. His brows furrowed. A moment later, he turned to Miss Samhelna. "The count is off."

The realization rippled through the group like a cold wind. Then, right on cue, one of Dhrithra’s friends sprinted toward the teachers, breathless and panicked.

"Dhrithra is missing!"

Miss Samhelna paled. Mr. Dhyan didn’t waste a second, he grabbed a flashlight and strode toward the forest.

The murmurs turned into small waves of concern. Some students suggested looking for him, but none were willing to act.

None except Shishta.

"We should go after him."

Miss Samhelna shook her head firmly. "Mr. Dhyan will find him. You’re children. This is dangerous."

Shishta didn’t budge. "He is our classmate. We can't just sit here and do nothing."

Miss Samhelna placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression soft but unwavering. "You have a kind heart, Shishta. But this isn’t your responsibility."

The other students hesitated but ultimately backed down.

Not Shishta.

Her hands curled into fists, her jaw clenched in frustration. The teacher, satisfied she had quelled the rebellion, turned away.

That was her mistake. Because the moment Miss Samhelna looked elsewhere, Shishta ran.

I moved before I could think, chasing after her.

"Shishta! Stop!"

She didn’t.

"Let me guide you!" I called out, my voice cutting through the night.

For the first time, she looked back at me, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "And how do you know where he is? Are you some kind of fortune teller?"

"Just a hunch." My voice was steady, but my mind spun with half-truths. "I saw him heading toward the denser part of the forest. He probably got lost there."

A lie.

The truth? I had followed Dhrithra earlier, just far enough to understand what he and his group were up to. I had listened, hidden in the shadows. I had even played a small trick, just a simple scarecrow illusion to split them apart. It worked too well.

Now, I had to retrieve what I had scattered.

Shishta hesitated. Then, she nodded. "Show me the way."

I led, my pace measured, my mind racing.