The night in the Solar Kingdom was unnervingly still. A silence that pressed against his thoughts, suffocating them. Sam sat atop the tiled roof of Sanjana’s house, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The golden glow of the First Zone shimmered in the distance, but his mind wasn’t on politics anymore.
His mind was on her.
Azhini—or was it even her anymore?
Every day, she slipped further away, her presence morphing into someone else’s. Sanjana wasn’t just a disguise anymore. She was real.
And that terrified him.
---
He had gone to the First Zone, thinking he would uncover useful information. Instead, he returned more confused than before.
The political divide was clear—The Modernists and The Traditionalists.
The Modernists preached progress, advocating trade with Venus, alliances with Guru, and the scientific advancements of Kethu. They sought external influence, embracing change.
The Traditionalists clung to the past, rejecting outsiders, fearing the influence of Rahu and Kethu, and treating their kingdom’s customs as sacred.
And yet, the Traditionalists were the ones who had accepted Arkan.
That fact shook Sam. He had assumed the progressive faction would be more open-minded, more welcoming towards the people of the Third Zone. But they weren’t.
Instead, they ignored them completely.
To them, the Third Zone wasn’t even worth debating.
"They are ruled by them. They have their duties to do, if they forget that and greed for more, then who will do them?"
That was the sentiment among the Modernists. Their concept of "progress" didn’t include the lower zones. Their battle for power was only for the elites.
Sam had left the First Zone with a bitter taste in his mouth. He had planned to tell Azhini—to warn her.
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But when he returned, he realized… her situation was far worse than the First Zone itself.
---
Her sleep patterns had changed.
Azhini had never been the type to follow a rigid schedule. She would work for days without rest, then sleep at odd hours, often in a chair or on a pile of books. But now? She woke up exactly at 5 AM. She slept precisely at 9 PM.
Her belongings, once scattered with a scientist’s absentmindedness, were now meticulously arranged. Even her sword—a weapon she had barely touched before—was sharpened daily.
She spoke to Ishaan, her elder brother, with the ease of someone who had known him her entire life. Their interactions were no longer strained, no longer hesitant.
And the final, undeniable proof?
When Ishaan injured himself during sword training, she reacted instantly—not with feigned concern, not with calculated words, but with genuine fear.
Her panic, her desperation, her trembling hands as she tended to his wound—none of it was an act.
Sanjana was no longer a role she was playing. Sanjana was who she had become.
And the worst part?
She was distancing herself from him.
---
Then came the final blow.
She told him about Adhitya.
Her voice was different when she spoke of him. And her expression…
Sam had seen that look before.
A look that spoke of trust, admiration—longing.
And it shook him to his core.
At first, frustration boiled in him. Was she friend-zoning him for some unknown stranger?
But as he thought deeper, the frustration turned into something else—fear.
She wasn’t just falling for someone. She was forgetting who she was.
Forgetting why she came here.
Forgetting what was real.
---
So he asked her.
And her answer shattered everything.
"Why do you think that I’m Azhini and not Sanjana?" she asked, her voice calm, her eyes unreadable. "What if my real identity is Sanjana? What if I’ve always been her?"
Sam felt a chill crawl up his spine. "What the hell are you saying?"
"You know I attempted suicide once." Her voice was eerily clinical. Detached. Like a doctor diagnosing a patient. "What if my mind created this ‘game world’ as an escape mechanism? What if I convinced myself that I was from another place just to cope with my past?"
His pulse pounded in his ears. "No. That’s not—You told me this was a game. You made me leave my Nexus and follow you. We need to find the gems and end this before—"
She clutched her forehead, her breath uneven. "Sam, listen." She exhaled sharply, as if fighting against a headache. "I am suffering from Depersonalization Disorder. I feel disconnected from reality, so my brain might have fabricated this ‘other world’ to cope. And you—"
She turned to him, her gaze steady. Too steady.
"You could be a hallucination. A delusion I created to survive."
Sam felt his breath hitch.
For a moment, he couldn’t speak.
Then, finally, he let out a hollow chuckle. "You think I’m some imaginary friend?"
She didn’t answer.
His fists clenched. "Well. That’s just perfect."
Taking a step forward, he spoke in a low, measured voice.
"You think this world isn’t real? You think I’m not real? Then let me tell you something real, Azhini."
His expression hardened.
"You have six years. Half a year is already gone. If you lose yourself here, your real body will die. And if you don’t find a way out, you’ll be reborn in this world again and again—a cycle of nine lives. After that?"
He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"You’ll be erased. Forever."
She stood there, silent.
Unmoved.
That was when he knew.
She was already slipping away.
He let out a self-mocking chuckle and turned away. "It’s always your choice, Azhini." His voice softened, almost resigned. "Stay here or move forward. Just… don’t forget what you came for."
And with that, he walked away.
---
He should feel relieved. He had done his part. Warned her. Given her the facts.
Then why did it feel like he was the one disappearing?
"Am I… over-invested in a player?" he muttered to himself.
He had spent too long thinking of her as Azhini. But if she was no longer Azhini, then…
Then what was he supposed to do now?
For the first time, Sam didn’t have an answer.
And that terrified him.
